“Your mother told me that if I called you, you’d quit your job up in Canada — and it would be my fault if we lost the house,” Gwen admitted.

“No house on earth is worth more than your life,” I told her.

Once she was stable enough, the surgeons removed the tumor and tested her lymph nodes.

The days of waiting in hospital hallways were terrifying, but I was no longer helpless or far away. I was right there — to hold her hand, pay every bill, sit with the specialists.

The pathology came back better than we’d feared: the cancer hadn’t spread to the surrounding tissue.

She’d still need chemotherapy and regular monitoring, but her odds of a full recovery were high. Gwen wept with relief when the oncologist told us.