Read Chapter 7: — MARGARET

Margaret Bennett arrived at St Gabriel's University Hospital wearing a navy coat, red lipstick and the expression of a woman who intended to negotiate with cancer.

She had spent most of her career in public administration and had the habit of asking questions in numbered lists.

"One," she said to Daniel when Clara introduced them, "why does everyone keep saying PET as if I am a household animal? Two, why do I need something radioactive put inside me? Three, should I be frightened?"

Clara groaned. "Mum."

"What? He looks prepared."

Daniel was prepared.

He had spent two nights reading.

But instead of reciting a textbook, he drew a rough sketch on the back of a café receipt.

"Tumours often use glucose differently from normal tissue," he explained. "A PET scan can use a tiny amount of a radioactive glucose-like tracer to show areas using more than expected. The CT gives anatomy. The PET gives information about activity. Put them together and you get a better map."

Margaret examined the drawing.

"So the bad cells are greedy."

"Sometimes. Not always. That's why the scan isn't a verdict by itself."

"And the radiation?"

"Real, but controlled. The question isn't whether there is zero risk. Medicine almost never gives zero. The question is whether the information is worth the exposure in your situation. Your team believes it is."

Margaret looked at Clara.

"He explains things better than you."

"He's had forty-eight hours to rehearse."

Daniel smiled.

The scan later showed widespread nodal disease.

The image changed the mood of the whole family.

Margaret did not cry when the consultant discussed biopsy and treatment. Clara did.

Daniel watched the scan on a workstation and understood, for the first time, that medical images were not abstract patterns.

Every bright focus belonged to someone's mother.

Every report would enter a room where people were waiting.

That knowledge frightened him more than radiation ever had.

It also drew him closer.