“Calm down, please. I’m sorry. Really. Please, let me explain.”

“You… I don’t… you…,” she stammered, so furious she couldn’t even put together a coherent sentence. But then she did: “I shouldn’t even be here. I should have just passed this off on the attending. But I wanted to be the one to tell you.” She grew quiet and her eyes hardened. “See this?”

She held up a negative above his head.

It looked like a sonogram to Kettleman. “Am I pregnant?”

That did it. Caught off guard, Samuels laughed despite herself. And it completely ruined the moment for her. One joke, one little attempt at levity, and he was suddenly human to her again. It let all the air out of her tires.

“No, you’re not pregnant,” she said quietly.

Kettleman smiled, eyes warm and friendly. And apologetic. “You’re a professional, I should have respected that. I am so—”

“It doesn’t matter. Whoever you really are, whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t matter any more.”

“No, really. Please let me—”

“Mr. Kettleman, this is a tumor,” she said, tapping the negative. “You have cancer.” She gave that a moment to sink in before continuing. “You’re scheduled for release at 9am, but they’ve already set up a consultation with an oncologist at Mayo. You can go straight from here to there.”

Kettleman was quietly processing. After a moment: “What kind of cancer? And what’s the prognosis?”

“The tumor is in the lower part of the esophagus,” she said softly. “As for the prognosis, I’m not an oncologist. They’ll have to run tests.”

She was holding back, Kettleman was sure of it. She’d come in with murder in her eye, looking to exact some satisfaction. And this was how she was going to get it. But she’d lost her nerve, come to her senses, and reverted back to being a physician.

“I understand cancer isn’t your specialty,” he said. “But… should I be worried? Is it bad? Is it treatable?”

Rage had been replaced by rational thought and Dr. Samuels was feeling exposed. Dangerously exposed. She’d overstepped the attending, just by entering the room. Dr. Patel was going to be furious when he discovered his patient already knew about the tumor. Whatever reprimand she received was going to be compounded by the fact that she had not yet turned over the letter from the patient’s attorney.

She had to get out of this room. Fast.

“Yes, cancer can be serious,” she answered, sliding the negative back into the oversized envelope. “Your oncologist will need to run tests to be more certain of the type of cancer, and what types of treatment are available.”