But then the worst thing happened. The doctors said I needed surgery. My last chance. But the risks were huge—I might simply not wake up.

I was lying in the pre-op room when my husband came in. He had some papers in his hands.

— We need to talk, — he said in a cold voice.

— This can wait, — I tried to smile. — The doctor said I mustn’t worry.

— No. I have to say it now. I’m tired of waiting.