leukemia patients, it’s been known to work.”
“But you’ve got to make a decision,” the first surgeon said. “As soon as I opened Matt and saw what I was dealing with, I put him on hold. Don’t worry about him for now. The respirator and the other machines are keeping him alive. But I can’t leave him like that very long. You’ve got a decision to make.”
What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you? How about the worst question you ever faced?
“The options are this,” the first surgeon said. “I can leave the tumor as it is. I can close Matt up. The tumor will continue to grow. But Matt will be able to have a more or less tolerable summer, provided he gets enough pain medication. He will be dead by the fall.”
Donna’s face streamed with tears.
“And the alternative?” David breathed.
“I can go ahead with the surgery, take several more ribs than I hoped, probably all of his lung, leave the parts of the tumor I can’t get at, close him up, and hope that chemotherapy combined with a bone marrow transplant kills the rest.”
“But remember, the tumor’s especially resistant,” the second surgeon said. “The bone marrow treatment might not work.”
“And the treatment’s extremely severe, worse than anything he’s already been through. He could die from it,” the third surgeon said. “He might not even have the tolerable summer he’d have if we took the first option and stopped the operation right now.”
“I can’t keep Matt on hold up there forever,” the first surgeon said. “I’ve either got to stop the procedure or get on with it. Soon. ”
“How soon are you talking about?”
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to make up your mind. And this is a one-time-only decision. You can’t change your mind tomorrow or next week. Matt couldn’t survive another exploratory operation of this scope. And if the tumor gets any bigger, I’d have to leave much more of it inside him, which means the bone marrow treatment would have a great deal less chance of being effective.”
“Fifteen minutes?” David’s voice rasped as if his throat were packed with broken glass. “If you just sew him up right now, he’ll die for sure?”
“Sometime in the fall.”
“And if you take out what you can and go for the bone marrow transplant …?”
“He still might die, and you’d be denying him a tolerable summer. With the transplant, his summer would be a distress, to put it mildly.”
Donna kept weeping. Sarie seemed about to faint.
“Fifteen minutes?”
“Less than that now,” the first surgeon said.
“And a one-time-only decision?”
“Correct.”
“Tell me what to do!”
“I can’t. That’s why I came down here to speak with you. The situation’s too complicated. It’s up to you to make the choice.”
“I can’t”—David gasped for breath—“face Matt when he wakes up and tell him we did nothing. I couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. I couldn’t bear telling him that he doesn’t have a chance—that he’s going to die.”
David looked for agreement from Donna and Sarie. Cheeks raw with tears, they nodded.
“Go ahead and cut the sucker out,” David said. “Get as much as you can. We won’t give up. Matthew’s strong. He’s proved it before. He’ll prove it again.”
“Just so we understand each other,” the second surgeon said. “Whatever happens, it’s extremely important to your mental health that you never second-guess this decision. You made it in good faith. Never reconsider it.”
“Cut!” David said. “Get as much of that bastard tumor as you can!”
6
Another waiting room, this one outside Intensive Care. Matt’s operation, as predicted, took eight hours. The chief of the surgical team came into the crowded room and found a place to sit across from David, Donna, and Sarie. His eyes were red with exhaustion. He was scheduled to perform another operation within an hour.
“How bad?” David asked.
There must have been forty
“But you’ve got to make a decision,” the first surgeon said. “As soon as I opened Matt and saw what I was dealing with, I put him on hold. Don’t worry about him for now. The respirator and the other machines are keeping him alive. But I can’t leave him like that very long. You’ve got a decision to make.”
What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you? How about the worst question you ever faced?
“The options are this,” the first surgeon said. “I can leave the tumor as it is. I can close Matt up. The tumor will continue to grow. But Matt will be able to have a more or less tolerable summer, provided he gets enough pain medication. He will be dead by the fall.”
Donna’s face streamed with tears.
“And the alternative?” David breathed.
“I can go ahead with the surgery, take several more ribs than I hoped, probably all of his lung, leave the parts of the tumor I can’t get at, close him up, and hope that chemotherapy combined with a bone marrow transplant kills the rest.”
“But remember, the tumor’s especially resistant,” the second surgeon said. “The bone marrow treatment might not work.”
“And the treatment’s extremely severe, worse than anything he’s already been through. He could die from it,” the third surgeon said. “He might not even have the tolerable summer he’d have if we took the first option and stopped the operation right now.”
“I can’t keep Matt on hold up there forever,” the first surgeon said. “I’ve either got to stop the procedure or get on with it. Soon. ”
“How soon are you talking about?”
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to make up your mind. And this is a one-time-only decision. You can’t change your mind tomorrow or next week. Matt couldn’t survive another exploratory operation of this scope. And if the tumor gets any bigger, I’d have to leave much more of it inside him, which means the bone marrow treatment would have a great deal less chance of being effective.”
“Fifteen minutes?” David’s voice rasped as if his throat were packed with broken glass. “If you just sew him up right now, he’ll die for sure?”
“Sometime in the fall.”
“And if you take out what you can and go for the bone marrow transplant …?”
“He still might die, and you’d be denying him a tolerable summer. With the transplant, his summer would be a distress, to put it mildly.”
Donna kept weeping. Sarie seemed about to faint.
“Fifteen minutes?”
“Less than that now,” the first surgeon said.
“And a one-time-only decision?”
“Correct.”
“Tell me what to do!”
“I can’t. That’s why I came down here to speak with you. The situation’s too complicated. It’s up to you to make the choice.”
“I can’t”—David gasped for breath—“face Matt when he wakes up and tell him we did nothing. I couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. I couldn’t bear telling him that he doesn’t have a chance—that he’s going to die.”
David looked for agreement from Donna and Sarie. Cheeks raw with tears, they nodded.
“Go ahead and cut the sucker out,” David said. “Get as much as you can. We won’t give up. Matthew’s strong. He’s proved it before. He’ll prove it again.”
“Just so we understand each other,” the second surgeon said. “Whatever happens, it’s extremely important to your mental health that you never second-guess this decision. You made it in good faith. Never reconsider it.”
“Cut!” David said. “Get as much of that bastard tumor as you can!”
6
Another waiting room, this one outside Intensive Care. Matt’s operation, as predicted, took eight hours. The chief of the surgical team came into the crowded room and found a place to sit across from David, Donna, and Sarie. His eyes were red with exhaustion. He was scheduled to perform another operation within an hour.
“How bad?” David asked.
There must have been forty
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