I don't really want to do this, but I feel I should, not sure why, just a feeling. I have to type, to get the thoughts out of my head. They are going through my head so quickly it hurts, I am getting a headache. I am crying as I type, my face is completely wet. I feel strange, cold but slightly sweaty. I feel weak, low in my strength. My face is hot. My hands are shaking, I can't control them, they seem not to be mine. My head is bursting, with tears, with shouts. Two hours ago; "Any chance that you might take out the stitches today?" I asked. "No, not today, you see, the results of the biopsy from the tumour are back." The surgeon had never called it a tumour before, it had always been called a lump. I did not say anything, I just looked at his face and waited for him to speak again. "It is called a sarcoma, it was 7.5cm in diameter, that is very big for a sarcoma. It was poorly differentiated, which means it had begun to split. It is a particularly angry type of sarcoma." Still, I sat there, I had no words. My wife was beside me, she was equally silent. The Book is a wakeup call to couples and families whose lives have been decimated by disease. It seeks to bridge the emotional gap that too often isolates citizens of sickness from their spouses, families, and friends.