A week and a half ago, I sat at my desk staring at a blank computer screen wondering if the lump in my throat would shrink in size. I pleaded with it: Please go away, please, please, please. I have somewhere to go and I never have somewhere to go. Slowly, I felt its rebuttal in the form of my dinner slowly crawling up my esophagus, inching to my mouth. I ran to the toilet, ready to throw up whatever wanted to come up. As I stared at the toilet water, I shut my…