What’s wrong?” Maggy asked her ashen-faced son, who’d dropped by on his way to work. Michael, 33, stared at the ground. “I don’t know the right way to say this, Mom, but…” he said, hesitating. “You’ve got to do something about your health. You’re my best friend, and I’m afraid you won’t live through the year.” He looked up, tears in his eyes. Maggy felt her throat tighten. “Oh, honey,” she whispered. “I…” But there were no words to comfort him. “Truth is, I don’t see much hope for myself,” she finally said. Michael glanced up with such pain in his face that it took Maggy’s breath away. Her instinct was instant: Make his hurting stop! Suddenly, words were coming out of her mouth she never intended: “I’ll find a…
