“Catherine, I don’t want to bully you, but you have to understand that Tom has a good chance of beating this thing. A very good chance. I have patients who’ve led useful, full lives with leukemia. There are different types of medicine to control it. The one I plan to use with Tom is Interferon. It’s worked miracles with some of my patients. It will mean daily injections at first, but after we get the dosage adjusted, he’ll be able to give them to himself. When he recuperates fully from the operation, he can go back to work, and I swear to you that’s going to happen.” Then he added quietly, “But there is a problem.”

Now he looked stern. “This afternoon when you saw Tom in ICU, I understand you were pretty upset.”

“Yes.” She had tried not to cry but couldn’t stop. She’d been so worried, and knowing that he had made it through the operation was such a relief that she couldn’t help herself.

“Catherine, Tom just asked me to level with him. He thinks I told you it was hopeless. He’s starting to not trust me. He’s beginning to wonder if maybe I’m hiding something, that maybe things are worse than I’m telling him. Well, Catherine, that is simply not so, and your job is to convince him that you have every expectation that you two will have a long life together. He mustn’t get it in his head that he has a very limited time, not only because that would be harmful to him, but equally important because I don’t believe that’s true. In order to get well, Tom needs faith in his chances to get better, and a great deal of that has to come from you.”

“Spence, I should have seen he was getting sick.” Spence put his arms around her shoulders in a brief hug. “Listen,” he said, “there’s an old adage, ‘Physician, heal thyself.’ When Tom is feeling better, I’m going to rake him over the coals for ignoring some of the warnings his body was giving him. But now, go in there with a light step and a happy face. You can do it.”

Catherine forced a smile. “Like this?”