Jack.’
‘What?’
‘She can’t walk independently.’
‘Because she’s got a broken fucking leg,’ Molly said.
‘She has a broken leg because her bones are compromised by cancer. It’s too much.’
Molly and Jack shared a look of despair, then Molly shook it off. ‘Fine,’ she said.
Mr Dunne moved to stand.
‘Ah, where are you going?’
‘I thought we were finished.’
She snorted. ‘We’re only getting started. Jack, break out the sandwiches.’
Jack reached into the bag he was carrying. ‘Chicken and stuffing, ham salad or tuna mayo?’ he offered Mr Dunne.
‘I’ll take a ham salad,’ Mr Dunne said, conceding defeat.
‘Right. Bisphosphonate therapies, pros and cons,’ Molly said.
Forty-five minutes later, Molly was on her feet shouting about advances in hormone therapy, and accusing the Irish medical system of being both backward and corrupt. Mr Dunne remained calm and even-toned. He repeated that he understood their anger and frustration, then explained again why the particular therapy Molly was pitching wouldn’t work. Molly flopped back into her seat and flicked through her file until she realized she had exhausted every option.
‘Twenty-six trials! Twenty-six! One of them will take her. I don’t care how much it costs.’
‘Maybe, but if they do, it will be experimental, not curative and not palliative. It’s not what you want for her.’
The file fell onto the floor. She put her head into her hands and rubbed her temples, then met the doctor’s eye. ‘There has to be something we can do.’
‘There is.’
‘What?’
‘You can prepare her.’
Molly shook her head. ‘There has to be something else.’
Jack stood up slowly and took his wife’s hand. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’
Molly looked up at him, confused. ‘No, Jack, wait.’
‘It’s all right, Molls. We’ll keep looking.’ He glanced towards the doctor. ‘Sorry to take up your time.’
‘It’s fine, Jack. I understand.’
Molly hung her head and bit back her tears. ‘I’m sorry for shouting, Mr Dunne.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said.
‘We’re grateful for everything you’ve done.’
‘If you have any more questions you know where I am.’
Jack helped Molly from her chair and they walked out of the office, leaving the file on the floor.
They arrived at Rabbit’s door in time to hear her agonized cries and Michelle’s soothing words of comfort. ‘Hang in there, Rabbit, any second now.’
‘I can’t, I can’t – please help me.’
‘Nearly there,’ Michelle said, and Rabbit sobbed.
When Michelle emerged five minutes later, she walked into Molly and Jack, holding each other tightly. ‘She’s been suffering a little more breakthrough pain, but Mr Dunne’s team have been notified and we will fix it.’
‘I should go to her,’ Molly said.
‘She’s sleeping. She’ll be sleeping for a while. Why don’t you both get out of here? It’s a beautiful day and, God knows, we don’t get many of them.’
Molly looked to Jack for guidance.
‘I think that’s a good idea, Michelle,’ he said.
‘I just want to see her before I go,’ Molly said.
‘Of course.’
Michelle opened the door to reveal tiny Rabbit, lost in blankets and shallow breathing.
‘Her head looks bigger than her body,’ Molly said, moving closer, picking up a tissue and wiping the sweat from Rabbit’s brow.
‘It’s bloating,’ Michelle said.
‘It’s terrifying,’ Molly said sadly, then bent to kiss her daughter’s face.
They left her to sleep and sat in the car for a minute or two before Jack attempted to put the key into the ignition.
‘I think we should call in Michael Gallagher,’ Molly said.
‘Who?’
‘The seventh-son faith-healer.’
‘Oh, Molly.’ Jack rubbed his tired eyes.
‘I know what you’re thinking, but he has an eighty-five per cent success rate.’
‘He didn’t cure Johnny.’
‘He was in the fifteen per cent. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.’
Jack turned to
‘What?’
‘She can’t walk independently.’
‘Because she’s got a broken fucking leg,’ Molly said.
‘She has a broken leg because her bones are compromised by cancer. It’s too much.’
Molly and Jack shared a look of despair, then Molly shook it off. ‘Fine,’ she said.
Mr Dunne moved to stand.
‘Ah, where are you going?’
‘I thought we were finished.’
She snorted. ‘We’re only getting started. Jack, break out the sandwiches.’
Jack reached into the bag he was carrying. ‘Chicken and stuffing, ham salad or tuna mayo?’ he offered Mr Dunne.
‘I’ll take a ham salad,’ Mr Dunne said, conceding defeat.
‘Right. Bisphosphonate therapies, pros and cons,’ Molly said.
Forty-five minutes later, Molly was on her feet shouting about advances in hormone therapy, and accusing the Irish medical system of being both backward and corrupt. Mr Dunne remained calm and even-toned. He repeated that he understood their anger and frustration, then explained again why the particular therapy Molly was pitching wouldn’t work. Molly flopped back into her seat and flicked through her file until she realized she had exhausted every option.
‘Twenty-six trials! Twenty-six! One of them will take her. I don’t care how much it costs.’
‘Maybe, but if they do, it will be experimental, not curative and not palliative. It’s not what you want for her.’
The file fell onto the floor. She put her head into her hands and rubbed her temples, then met the doctor’s eye. ‘There has to be something we can do.’
‘There is.’
‘What?’
‘You can prepare her.’
Molly shook her head. ‘There has to be something else.’
Jack stood up slowly and took his wife’s hand. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’
Molly looked up at him, confused. ‘No, Jack, wait.’
‘It’s all right, Molls. We’ll keep looking.’ He glanced towards the doctor. ‘Sorry to take up your time.’
‘It’s fine, Jack. I understand.’
Molly hung her head and bit back her tears. ‘I’m sorry for shouting, Mr Dunne.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said.
‘We’re grateful for everything you’ve done.’
‘If you have any more questions you know where I am.’
Jack helped Molly from her chair and they walked out of the office, leaving the file on the floor.
They arrived at Rabbit’s door in time to hear her agonized cries and Michelle’s soothing words of comfort. ‘Hang in there, Rabbit, any second now.’
‘I can’t, I can’t – please help me.’
‘Nearly there,’ Michelle said, and Rabbit sobbed.
When Michelle emerged five minutes later, she walked into Molly and Jack, holding each other tightly. ‘She’s been suffering a little more breakthrough pain, but Mr Dunne’s team have been notified and we will fix it.’
‘I should go to her,’ Molly said.
‘She’s sleeping. She’ll be sleeping for a while. Why don’t you both get out of here? It’s a beautiful day and, God knows, we don’t get many of them.’
Molly looked to Jack for guidance.
‘I think that’s a good idea, Michelle,’ he said.
‘I just want to see her before I go,’ Molly said.
‘Of course.’
Michelle opened the door to reveal tiny Rabbit, lost in blankets and shallow breathing.
‘Her head looks bigger than her body,’ Molly said, moving closer, picking up a tissue and wiping the sweat from Rabbit’s brow.
‘It’s bloating,’ Michelle said.
‘It’s terrifying,’ Molly said sadly, then bent to kiss her daughter’s face.
They left her to sleep and sat in the car for a minute or two before Jack attempted to put the key into the ignition.
‘I think we should call in Michael Gallagher,’ Molly said.
‘Who?’
‘The seventh-son faith-healer.’
‘Oh, Molly.’ Jack rubbed his tired eyes.
‘I know what you’re thinking, but he has an eighty-five per cent success rate.’
‘He didn’t cure Johnny.’
‘He was in the fifteen per cent. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.’
Jack turned to
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