Chapter 40:

DEACON

"Hey, Donnie. I heard you're feeling a little rough." I paused at the doorway to Mr. Crew's room, remembering something Emma had told me about giving patients a modicum of control by not entering before I asked permission. "Is it okay to come in and talk with you right now?"

The man in the bed turned his head slightly, wincing as though even that slight movement cost him strength. "Sure, doc. Come on . . . in. Join . . . the party."

I strolled in, carefully schooling my face to hide my dismay. Donnie Crew had been kicking ass in this second phase of his treatment for multiple myeloma. We'd harvested his stem cells, and then we'd blasted him with heavy-duty chemo to kill off as many of the cancerous cells as possible. He had tolerated all of that well. I had thought that we were on schedule for his transplant this week.