“I’m sorry, Meg.

She made it sound so convincing, and the only thing in my head was my numbers, how all that waiting was down to me.”

“Why didn’t you pick up the phone to me?” I said.

And there it is.

That is the question.

Not how could you believe her. Not how could you ask a doctor for a test. Not how could you drive across town to Brian’s house.

I had four and a half hours in that bed to decide which question I was going to ask my husband and I got exactly one, because you only ever get one — the first one is the only one that gets a true answer, and everything after it gets an answer that has been shaped by the first.