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isn’t serious or to act all stiff-upper-lip around
     each other. But we caught this early, and there’s every reason to be optimistic.”
    Buddy let out a breath.
    “Mr. Levine,” Dr. Truman said.
    “It’s Buddy,” he corrected her.
    “Well, Buddy, I believe Kathleen is going to be around for a long time. And I’m not
     feeding you a line.”
    Buddy and Kathleen nodded.
    Quickly, but not too quickly, Dr. Truman reviewed the options. Since the biopsy had
     confirmed DCIS, they had to decide between wide excision with radiation or mastectomy
     — with or without reconstructive surgery.
    “Dr. Cooperman didn’t say anything about a mastectomy,” Kathleen said, alarmed.
    “Yes, she did,” Buddy corrected quietly.
    “That is a more radical choice,” said Dr. Truman, “but some women choose it to avoid
     the radiation, or just for peace of mind.”
    Kathleen reacted instantly, instinctively: no mastectomy.
    “That’s fine,” Dr. Truman said, and explained that if the margins around the excision
     were cancer-free, there would be no need for further surgery.
    “And if the margins aren’t cancer-free?” Kathleen asked.
    More surgery, Dr. Truman said gently, but cautioned against getting too far ahead
     of the facts. “At this point, I want you to be perfectly clear that you do not have
     the kind of disease that killed your sister. Your sister had inflammatory breast cancer,
     which is rare. Back in the 1970s, it was almost always fatal. But that is not your
     diagnosis.”
    “I understand,” Kathleen said. “But I want you to do the surgery, the excision. Will
     you? Will you do it?”
    “Sue Cooperman is a very good surgeon, Mrs. Levine.”
    “Please,” said Kathleen, leaning forward in her chair. “I know you’re busy, but it
     would mean the world to me if you could do it.”
    The doctor started to explain that her schedule was very busy when she noticed the
     yellow Post-it note on Kathleen’s chart. “You have an inside track here, but the fact
     is, I don’t control my own OR schedule. Dr. Cooperman could probably operate much
     sooner. You’ll have to make that decision yourselves.”
    At the desk, Ellen looked at the computerized calendar, pinching her mouth over to
     one side. “Gee, the best I can do for you is the very end of June. But I’ll call if
     there’s a cancellation. It happens. Not often, but once in a while, and you’re right
     at the top of that list. So you be ready and keep a good thought.”
    Kathleen tried to smile and said, “I’ll do that.”
    But in the elevator, she started to panic. How could she get through two more months
     with this thing inside her? Maybe she should let Dr. Cooperman do the surgery. But
     Dr. Truman had made her feel so much more taken care of. So . . . cradled.
    She wanted to talk about it on the way home, but the traffic was bad and Buddy was
     too tense to pay the kind of attention she needed.
    When Jack heard her dilemma, he said, “I’ll try to get an extra day off and come home
     next week.” Hal spent an hour on the phone with her, going over the pros and cons.
     Finally, he declared that medically there was probably no harm in waiting for Dr.
     Truman, but if it would drive her crazy, she should schedule the surgery with Dr.
     Cooperman.
    Kathleen felt as if she were wearing a lead cape. She couldn’t bear waiting nine weeks.
     Still, she needed Jane Truman to take care of her. And yet, she was also convinced
     that it made no difference which doctor did the surgery. Kathleen was certain they
     would find more cancer. She knew it in her bones. No question.
    She tried calling Jeanette again, but hung up as soon as the answering machine switched
     on.
    After another sleepless night, she made an appointment to have Dr. Cooperman do the
     surgery on May 9. But the following day Ellen called to say there had been a last-minute
     cancellation. Next Monday. Six days away. In the meantime, she would have to come
     down to Boston for a