She turned her head weakly. Dr. Harrison was sitting in a chair by her bedside. He looked exhausted, his surgical scrubs wrinkled, but his eyes were kind.
“The surgery was a success,” he said softly. “We removed the tumor completely. There was a lot of internal bleeding, but your heart is strong, Margaret. You survived. The pathology report confirmed it was entirely benign. You are going to make a full recovery.”
“A recovery,” Margaret repeated, her voice hoarse. “For what? To go back to an empty house? To look at a crib that will never hold a child? I am sixty-five, Doctor. My miracle was a tumor. There are no second chances for me.”