'Do you know how long till I go?'Phil whispered to his consultant.
'It's hard to tell, but, with the size of the tumour, and how fast it is progressing, around 3-4 months minimum sir. I'm sorry I can't be more precise, but I will know when your latest test results come back from the lab.'
Phil was sitting across a desk from his consultant, Peter McConghie, and Sam was sitting on the other side of his. Tears were rolling down her face at an uncontrollable rate, yet she was making no noise at all. Just staring. Phil had been diagnosed with a brain tumour just over 14 months ago, and he and Sam had been together for about two and a half years. They were due to be getting married in September, except, his tumour was progressing a lot faster than expected, and you can't have a wedding if the groom is already dead. He had at least four months left, but that only brought him to early April. Today was the second of January 2008. This is the last year that Philip John Hunter would see. The last year in which he could watch Maddie and Alfie grow, and maybe live long enough to see his baby son or daughter be born the Sam in early May. No matter how much he thought about it, he would never see Alfie start school in September, or their baby's first Christmas.
'And you can't operate?' Sam asked at last.
'I'm afraid not. Mr Hunter's tumour is far to advanced for anyone in the medical institution in this country, or anywhere in the world to tackle. You would almost certainly die on the table.'
This answered Sam's next question before she had even asked it.
'I'm sorry,' Dr McConaghie continued 'There's nothing that we can do except give you medication that can prolong your life for a short time. We just have to wait and see what time will deliver.'
The car on the way back home was silent. Phil was sitting behind the wheel, yuck behind a little old woman trying to distinguish the window wipers from the indicator lights. Phil couldn't help but laugh.
'What are you laughing at?' Sam's face was still wet from tears.
'The old woman in front' he replied, smiling.
'How can you be laughing at a time like this? You're laughing at some old bag in front when you have just found out that you aren't going to reach your 37th birthday?' she shouted.
This really made Phil think. Phil had known about the seriousness of his tumour long before Sam had. Sam was still crying, but Phil had no tears left. He was prepared for death. He prayed to God each night while he watched Sam sleep that his death would be quick and clean. He would die with no pain in Sam's arms. He prayed to God to tell Sam how much he loved her and their unborn baby. Maddie .Alfie. His mum, Steve. To be forgiven by Cindy, Kate, Sam and their three children for all the hurt that he had caused. But above all this, he prayed for one more day, each night, so that he could say goodbye properly to Sam, and their baby, to Alfie, and to Madison, to his friends and colleagues, to his mum and Steve, and to anyone who would listen. He was dying, and he knew this, He was prepared for death. But he wasn't Ready. Not yet.