Chapter 9
The silent doctor returns, the male doctors following behind. Bryan is lying down, but when he sees her, he slides up and rests his back against the headboard. Jos and I had been talking, remembering things from when we were all happy and healthy—before the break-up. If he wasn’t dying I don’t think I could have forgiven her, but I can’t cause Jos a lifetime of grief for this one mistake. She thought she was looking out for her brother, and I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same to protect Maggie.
Dr. Scribbles clears her throat. Sean finds a place at the back of the room and leans his broad shoulders against a wall. Constance stands front and center. “Well?” Her voice is strained, tight. She doesn’t want to tell her sister that her son is truly dying.
Dr. Plaid and the other guys nod to Dr. Scribbles and her notepad. She looks around the room slowly from face to face, before clutching the notebook to her chest. “I know everyone is on edge waiting for an answer, so I’m not going to come to it slowly—he is dying. Every indication shows that the tumor is growing rapidly, causing the pain, dizziness, and vision disturbances. We know you were told that the location of his tumor makes it inoperable, but I disagree. It is operable.”
As soon as she says the words, everyone reacts in their own way. Sean pushes off the wall, demanding more details. Constance demands to know why his previous doctors claimed it was inoperable. Bryan leans forward, like he’s reaching for a dream that can’t be real. I know that look and it scares me. There was something in the doctor’s tone, something she didn’t get to say because everyone started talking. I grip Bryan’s hand and squeeze. We look at each other, too afraid to hope.
The female doctor tries to speak, but everyone is talking at once. Then there’s a high pitched whistle. The doc with the goatee pulls his fingers out of his mouth, bows his head to his associate, and says, “Continue, Dr. Sten.”
The woman is calm, but the Ferros unnerve her. I can see it in her eyes. She sucks in air and explains. “Listen, they were right and they were wrong. Performing the surgery to remove the entire tumor will kill him before the cancer gets the chance, but—and this is the part where I ask you to remain silent until I’m finished—there is a procedure that can be done to remove part of the tumor. By removing it in pieces, it would allow us to go in and take away the parts that aren’t surrounding a crucial part of the brain. If that surgery goes well, we can try the final surgery and completely remove the growth. It’s a prudent way to buy more time and make certain that we can remove the tumor. It’s wrapped itself around parts of the brain that will cause extreme trauma if the surgery doesn’t go well. Untreated, the tumor will kill him anyway. With surgery, he might live.”
Bryan is the first to speak, “Might?”
“The odds are still very slim, Mr. Ferro.”
Thoughtfully, Bryan asks, “Why wasn’t this option suggested previously?”
“Your previous doctors did not make this suggestion because this option wasn’t available to us before now.” Dr. Scribbles looks at Constance, unsure if she should say anything else.
Constance rolls her eyes and swats a hand. “I had an acquaintance at the FDA expedite approval of a new project. It had been tabled due to the millions of dollars in old medical equipment it would render obsolete, were it available for use. I then gave a generous donation to our hospital to buy the machine. My acquaintance is taking care of the part where the government has been dragging its feet.”
“What are the odds of success?” Jos asks, timidly. She looks so small, so afraid.
Dr. Sten looks over at her. “Not very good, I’m afraid. We don’t have enough data yet and every surgery has risks. This one has more than others because of the location of the growth.”
Sean asks, “Why break it into two separate surgeries? Why not try to do it all at once? Especially if the risk is so high.”
Dr. Goatee answers. “It’s a precaution and buys us more time.”
I’m missing something. Why do they need more time? I’m about to ask, but Bryan beats me to it. “You’re not telling us something. I have a feeling Aunt Connie knows, but I need to be the one who decides, so tell me.”
Dr. Sten places her clipboard down and walks toward us, stopping at the foot of the bed. “There’s a chance your first doctor was right, that even with the new machine, we can’t reach the growth. We’re hoping that removing a piece of the mass will slow the cancer. Giving us more time, allows us to come up with more options, more treatments. However, if the cancer is more invasive than we’d thought—“
“Then you risked his life for nothing.” Sean closes his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not simple, Mr. Ferro. Nothing about this is easy.” Dr. Sten looks over at Bryan. “You have so little time left.”
“Yeah, but this could take it all away and I don’t want to waste any of it. That’s what you’re telling me, right? That if I do this, I may die anyway. And if you don’t remove all of the tumor, it’ll just come back. Do I understand you correctly, doctor?” His last words are angry, but he’s trying to hide it.
Jon has been staring out the window. He turns and nods. “That’s exactly what she’s saying.”
Dr. Sten’s voice softens. “I can’t tell you what to do. We only recommend surgery when the benefits outweigh the risks. In your case, the surgery is too new to know for certain. You may recover fully.”
“Or he could die on the table.” Sean is the master of bluntness.
Constance finally speaks up. “How long does he have?”
“A few weeks, maybe less. There’s another problem.” Dr. Sten looks over at the men.
Doc Plaid explains, “He’s ripe for an aneurism. He can’t move, been sitting or sleeping most of the day. Considering the rate at which that tumor is growing in his head, he could leave us at any time now.”
The room is silent. No one speaks. Prickles line my arms and neck. I want to yell at them and tell them they’re wrong, so I bite my lip. The silence grows deafeningly loud until Bryan speaks. “So, I’m already dead. In which case, I should have the surgery. Is that your recommendation?”
They nod.
Bryan looks away and pulls his hand from mine. He pushes his hair out of his face and stands. I have no idea what he’s doing or what he’s going to say. “It’s strange, you know. I don’t feel like I’m dying, not right now. And the problem is, I’m not ready to leave yet. You’re asking me to give up the little time I have left when the odds aren’t in my favor anyway. If I was your kid, what would you do? If you had what I have, would you choose the surgery or live the last few minutes of your life the way you wanted?” He’s standing in front of them, sincerely asking, but the doctors don’t speak. Bryan works his jaw and his anger bursts free. “Answer me! I deserve that! There is no way in Hell you should ask me to do something that you wouldn’t do yourself!” His fists are balled at his sides.
I don’t expect anyone to answer, but surprisingly, Dr. Sten speaks, her voice soothing, “I would do it, even with the risk. It’s trading minutes for a lifetime. If things went well, you’ll have a chance to start a family, to love the people you care about. If things go wrong on the operating table, well, you were dead anyway. To me, it’s worth the risk. That’s why I lingered. In your position I would choose surgery. My colleagues disagree, but I couldn’t keep this option from you. I would choose it myself.” She smiles kindly at him. “Knowing my answer won’t help you make yours, Bryan. But it’s the best we can offer you, and it’s better than nothing.”
Bryan stiffens as she speaks. Pain is flooding his body. I jump up and pull him back to the foot of the bed. “Sit. Here.” I hand him more medicine. Bryan looks over at me with glassy eyes. He blinks once, hard, and a tear rolls down his cheek.
“I was supposed to watch out for you.”
Keeping my voice as steady as possible, I hang my arm across his shoulders and pull him into my side. “You’ll always be watching out for me, whether you’re here or there.”
My words choke him up more. He tries to pull away, but I won’t let go. The cup of water is knocked out of my hand and his pills roll across the floor as he buries his face into my shoulder. “I’m not weak,” he whispers.
“No one thinks you are,” I whisper back. We stay like that for a few moments. Everyone is watching us, waiting for Bryan’s answer. When he pulls away from my shoulder, he puts on his fake smile and stands.
Padding to Dr. Sten, he offers his hand. She takes it and shakes. “I don’t understand.”
“While all of you spoke truthfully, Dr. Sten, you told me how you felt and why. Will you be the doctor performing the surgery?”
She nods. “There will be several of us, including my colleagues present here today.”
“But you will be the lead doctor, right?” She nods. “Then set it up.”