"No, cancer cells have their own pattern of behavior which is very pretty and, of course, no longer at all deadly. You do not have cancer; but the cells of your kidneys, for instance, are doing something I've never seen live kidney cells doing."
"And what is that?" he said, as if he really couldn't care less.
"Nothing in particular. This is unheard of indeed. Kidney cells are busy little widgets doing a tremendous job night and day. Like the individual muscle fibers of the heart, they work on year after year with no vacations, no coffee breaks, secure in the knowledge of their purpose."
"No pseudo-sermons, please, Father!" Father Phillip's voice was stern. "You don't have to Peter Rabbit up biology for me."
"A scholar indeed to have heard of Peter Rabbit," I laughed but he did not smile. Then I asked, "Do you want to see how real kidney cells—yours—-are behaving? I have a projecting microscope in the basement. Do you want to see what's going on?"
"Not particularly. If you think you can cure me, go ahead and try."
"Are you willing to pray for your own recovery?"
"No!" He spat out the word with a ferocity that seemed to surprise even himself.
"Then I am going to sermonize indeed. And you are going to listen, my dear little kidney cell."
"Oh, go ahead. But I warn you that I know something that will cancel it all in advance." He had developed more force of personality than he had showed since I came in.