When my phone buzzes me awake in the middle of the night, I know it is going to be bad news. The drunk dials of my 20s have been replaced by frantic revelations of cheating spouses, sick children, and new cancer diagnoses.
In middle age, nothing good happens after midnight.
Yawning, I shuffle to our kitchen, leaving my sleeping husband behind. By the time I fill a glass with water, I am alert, awake and oriented. I reread Chrissy’s words. There it is: acute myeloid leukaemia.
“Got any tricks to cure acute leukaemia, Dr. Wentworth?” my friend jokes.
Instead of responding to her humour, I demand her hospital room number. I’ll stop by on my way to work.
Immediately after hitting send, I sense my overreach and text again, apologising.
“I love that you didn’t ask,” Chrissy replies immediately. “I would have told you no.”
English (US)