At ten the next morning, I carried that folded sheet in my hand all the way into the St.

Jude Billing Office.

The waiting area smelled of hospital sanitizer and wet coats.

Brenda Brooks was standing behind the front counter, sorting a pile of yellow billing notices.

I walked right up to the glass partition and pushed the printed appointment slip through the slot at the bottom.

Brenda picked it up.

She straightened her blue lanyards as her eyes ran across the top of the page.

“This isn’t a St.