this go for eight or nine months. Your husband and family need you, Mrs. Parker, more than they need another baby.” It was all so coldblooded and so simple, like the razor-sharp edge of a scalpel. She still couldn't believe what she was hearing. “I'd like to suggest that we schedule your biopsy for a week from next Monday and you come in to see me before that to discuss the options.”
“There don't seem to be very many of those, or am I missing something?”
“I'm afraid not, at this point anyway. First we have to see what you've got there. And then we can decide what to do about it. But you should know that my preference is almost always mastectomy in the case of early cancers. I want to save your life, Mrs. Parker, more than your breast. It's a question of priorities. And if you have a malignancy that deep in your breast, you may be a lot safer, and better off, without the breast now. Later, it may be too late. It's a conservative stance, but it's one that has proven to be reliable over the years. Some of the newer, riskier views can be disastrous. Doing a mastectomy early on could well be a great deal safer. And if indicated after the surgery, I'd want to start an aggressive course of chemotherapy four weeks after the surgery. This may sound frightening to you now, but six or seven months from now, you'll be free of the disease, hopefully forever. Of course, I can't recommend that to you now. We'll have to see what the biopsy tells us.”
“Would I still be able to …” She could hardly bring herself to say it, but she knew she had to. She wanted to know, since he had been so free about suggesting an abortion if she were pregnant, “…would I be able to conceive afterwards?”
He hesitated, but not for long. He had been asked this question before, though usually by younger women. At forty-two, most women were more interested in saving their own lives than in having babies. “It's possible. There's about a fifty percent sterility rate after chemotherapy. But it's a risk we'd have to take, of course. It could do you grave harm not to have it.” Grave harm? What did that mean? That it would kill her not to have chemo? It was a nightmare. “You'll have time to think about all this, during your trial. And I'd like you to make an appointment whenever possible. I'll try to accommodate your schedule as best I can. I understand from John Anderson that you're a very busy attorney.” He almost cracked a smile, but not quite, and Alex wondered if this was the “human” side John Anderson had referred to. If so, it was very small in comparison to the cold-blooded technician and scientist he was the rest of the time, when he was not being “human.”
He scared her to death with his icy factual explanations, but she also knew of his excellent reputation. What she needed was an excellent surgeon, if it turned out that she had a tumor and it was malignant. And she could have Sam to boost her spirits.
“Is there anything else I should explain to you?” he asked, and surprised her with the question. But all she could do was shake her head. It was worse than what she'd heard the day before, and he had completely overwhelmed her. She could already imagine herself without her left breast, and undergoing chemotherapy. Did that mean she would also lose her hair? She couldn't bring herself to ask him. But she had known women who had been through it, and worn wigs, or had the shortest of short haircuts. She knew what everyone did, that if you had chemotherapy, you lost your hair. It was just one more affront to a rapidly growing list of terrors.
She left his office in a daze, and when she got back to her own office, she wasn't even sure what the doctor looked like. She knew she had spent an hour with him, but suddenly his face was blank, along with almost everything he had said except the words tumor and malignancy, mastectomy and chemotherapy. The rest was an indistinguishable blur of sounds and noises.
“Are you
“There don't seem to be very many of those, or am I missing something?”
“I'm afraid not, at this point anyway. First we have to see what you've got there. And then we can decide what to do about it. But you should know that my preference is almost always mastectomy in the case of early cancers. I want to save your life, Mrs. Parker, more than your breast. It's a question of priorities. And if you have a malignancy that deep in your breast, you may be a lot safer, and better off, without the breast now. Later, it may be too late. It's a conservative stance, but it's one that has proven to be reliable over the years. Some of the newer, riskier views can be disastrous. Doing a mastectomy early on could well be a great deal safer. And if indicated after the surgery, I'd want to start an aggressive course of chemotherapy four weeks after the surgery. This may sound frightening to you now, but six or seven months from now, you'll be free of the disease, hopefully forever. Of course, I can't recommend that to you now. We'll have to see what the biopsy tells us.”
“Would I still be able to …” She could hardly bring herself to say it, but she knew she had to. She wanted to know, since he had been so free about suggesting an abortion if she were pregnant, “…would I be able to conceive afterwards?”
He hesitated, but not for long. He had been asked this question before, though usually by younger women. At forty-two, most women were more interested in saving their own lives than in having babies. “It's possible. There's about a fifty percent sterility rate after chemotherapy. But it's a risk we'd have to take, of course. It could do you grave harm not to have it.” Grave harm? What did that mean? That it would kill her not to have chemo? It was a nightmare. “You'll have time to think about all this, during your trial. And I'd like you to make an appointment whenever possible. I'll try to accommodate your schedule as best I can. I understand from John Anderson that you're a very busy attorney.” He almost cracked a smile, but not quite, and Alex wondered if this was the “human” side John Anderson had referred to. If so, it was very small in comparison to the cold-blooded technician and scientist he was the rest of the time, when he was not being “human.”
He scared her to death with his icy factual explanations, but she also knew of his excellent reputation. What she needed was an excellent surgeon, if it turned out that she had a tumor and it was malignant. And she could have Sam to boost her spirits.
“Is there anything else I should explain to you?” he asked, and surprised her with the question. But all she could do was shake her head. It was worse than what she'd heard the day before, and he had completely overwhelmed her. She could already imagine herself without her left breast, and undergoing chemotherapy. Did that mean she would also lose her hair? She couldn't bring herself to ask him. But she had known women who had been through it, and worn wigs, or had the shortest of short haircuts. She knew what everyone did, that if you had chemotherapy, you lost your hair. It was just one more affront to a rapidly growing list of terrors.
She left his office in a daze, and when she got back to her own office, she wasn't even sure what the doctor looked like. She knew she had spent an hour with him, but suddenly his face was blank, along with almost everything he had said except the words tumor and malignancy, mastectomy and chemotherapy. The rest was an indistinguishable blur of sounds and noises.
“Are you