I wasn't sure of the time. Three? Four in the morning? when the heavy bedroom door clicked open, and his large form entered the room. I wanted to sit up, to scream at him, 'Don't do this to me!' I wanted to beg him to not be so cruel, to beg and cajole if necessary. But my body remained frozen, my mouth clamped shut. He was right. There was nothing more to say until the diagnosis was absolute. Two weeks felt like an endless, slow-motion execution.

I blinked, fighting the urge to cry, terrified ...