Chapter 1

The day my mother was diagnosed, I called my husband seventeen times from the hospital corridor.

He was the Deputy Director of Cardiothoracic Surgery at the provincial hospital.

He finally picked up on the eighteenth call.

"Ethan, Mom's scan came back with a pulmonary nodule. Can you arrange a specialist consultation?"

He answered with barely concealed impatience:

"Three centimeters isn't necessarily malignant. Have her get a regular outpatient appointment and wait in line."

My mother was sitting on the metal bench outside the CT room, trying to comfort me.

"Don't put Ethan in a difficult spot. I'll wait in line, that's fine."

She was sixty-two years old.

Her hands shook as she clutched the envelope of CT films, yet her eyes were soft with reassurance.

I didn't cry.

Not until that evening, when I got home and found an express delivery package on the dining table.

It was a multi-department consultation request form from the provincial hospital.

Patient name: Sandra Hayes.

His college sweetheart's mother.

His own signature on it, with three departments co-signed.

Consultation time: tomorrow morning at eight.