So what else do we do? We help women in many other ways, at every stage of their lives. Lots of women find us for prenatal care, but others come for urinary-tract infections, Pap smears, breast exams, IUD fittings—any traditional gynecological procedures. Some pregnant women come to discuss drug abuse, alcohol abuse, physical abuse. In our hospital, we get plenty of those. It’s challenging, but in a weird way it’s rewarding. A lot of women, especially the young ones and the ones with addiction problems, are scared about taking their baby home. So we talk, and we’re never in a hurry. I’ll listen to them until they’re talked out.

I’ve dealt with abused women, and I’ve dealt with couples who come to every appointment together. I’ve helped poor women find the right social services, and I’ve worked with two famous actresses, two famous authors, and a circus performer who makes her living as a bareback rider. (In her sixth month of pregnancy, she switched to being a clown.)

Today I’ve got a classy Upper East Side gal, as if where you’re from makes anything different in giving birth. This woman, one of my overeducated pregnant patients, is here to discuss the torment of a cyst on her ovary. I know that an ovarian cyst during pregnancy is one of life’s extraordinary tortures. I am truly sympathetic. But there’s not a lot I can do to help. Telling her to feast on binge-worthy TV episodes doesn’t seem like much of a help. I can almost actually feel the woman’s pain.

Sheila Gross talks with tears in her eyes. That’s how much it hurts. “It’s like I swallowed a razor blade. It’s got to be more than a cyst, Lucy. I know it is. I think it’s probably kidney cancer. I was on the internet…”

Ah. The magical phrases: I was on the internet and I was on WebMD and My cousin told her gynecologist about it.

I hold Sheila’s hand. “Listen. I told you before, and I’ll tell you again. It’s a cyst. We have the x-rays to prove it. Yes, it’s just about the most painful thing that can happen during a pregnancy, except for the birth itself. But there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. You could take Tylenol, but that won’t help a whole lot. And it’s actually better that you don’t. Now, eventually—”

Sheila interrupts. “It’s kidney cancer. I don’t want to sound like a crazy lady, but I’m really sure.”

“No. It’s not kidney cancer.”

“I’m sure that it’s kidney cancer. The pain in the back, right where the kidneys are…”