From the moment I started medical school and for years thereafter, my friends called about bladder infections, birth control, and the occasional poison oak or ivy. As we moved into our forties, those calls gave way to ones about aging parents. Now in my fifties, my friends have begun asking about themselves and their partners as well. Cancers mostly, though occasionally something neurological, a new diagnosis every four to six months.

I’m sorry to bother you with this, they say. Or: I know I...