When my doctor told me, my eyes watered but I didn’t cry. I asked questions. I held it together and breathed slowly until I got to the car. I always insisted on going to these appointments alone, insisted I could handle it so I needed to do that now. I breathed more and I didn’t cry. I thought about how to tell my husband. I thought the words a few times, and then I called him. I thought the words over and over, but when they finally came out of my mouth, the sound of them was too intensely real to hold back the tears: I told him they found something in my lungs. He said he was coming home. We talked about how to tell my parents. I told him I had some errands to run and then I’d be home, too.

I called my mom. I sounded upbeat…