The train took only an hour. To Vincent, it felt endless.
Following the charge details, he raced to the inpatient building at Westbridge Cancer Center. The GI surgical unit was on the eighth floor.
A nurse stopped him at the station. "Who are you looking for, sir?"
"Meredith Lawson." He was panting, his chest heaving. "I'm her husband. Which room is she in?"
The nurse checked her screen, then looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "She's listed as no visitors, but she asked me to let you up if you came. Room 803. She just had an ESD and needs rest. Keep your voice down."
An ESD? His heart skipped. That usually meant the lesion had been caught early, or the pathological staging was more favorable than first thought.
He stepped softly as he approached Room 803. The door was aj
