Elena Ramirez met us in the second-floor surgical consultation room at three fifteen.

She was fifty-two, wearing a crisp lab coat over dark green scrubs, her graying hair pinned back neat and tight.

Grace sat on the edge of the exam table, pulling her gray sweatshirt sleeves down over her thumbs until only her fingernails showed.

Dr.

Ramirez rested a hand gently on the edge of the metal bed frame as she spoke, looking straight into Grace’s eyes.

“We’re going to do a simple laparoscopic procedure on Thursday morning at seven thirty,” Dr.