Page 41 of Just One Night Together
“I do. Let me just shut the door.” Damon closed the door to the F5F office and sat at his desk, fighting a bad feeling. He’d been restless after leaving Haley’s place and had only managed to doze for an hour or so before heading to the club. He had a sense of pending doom and that had kept him vigilant.
He had a feeling he was going to learn why in the next few minutes.
“As you know, we’ve been pursuing an increasingly aggressive course of treatment with your mom, since the first round of chemotherapy had little discernible effect.”
“It was still spreading,” Damon said.
“It is still spreading, Mr. Perez. Unfortunately, your mother’s leukemia is particularly resistant to treatment. We’re not seeing much progress at all.”
“Is there any reason why that might be?”
The doctor sighed. “Well, there are still a lot of variables that we haven’t identified. We do find acute myeloid leukemia more resistant to treatment in adults over sixty years of age, which your mom is. The other variables that are known don’t seem to apply. She never smoked.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She’s certainly not male and she hasn’t had cancer before. There’s no exposure to radiation in her history, is there?”
“Not that I know of.”
“It’s impossible to say exactly why we’re not making progress, but her blood work makes it very clear.” He paused. “I am not certain how much will be gained by beginning the next course of chemotherapy.”
“I thought there was always a chance of improvement...”
“There is always a chance, Mr. Perez. The universe works in mysterious ways. But there are also statistical probabilities, and there is your mom’s quality of life to consider, as well as her comfort.” He cleared his throat when Damon didn’t speak. “I see that you have already arranged the power of attorney.”
“Yes, my mom insisted on it when she was home in the fall.”
“It’s probably wise to have those details arranged while everyone is thinking clearly. It means, though, that you have a decision to make, Mr. Perez, regarding your mother’s care from this point onward.”
“You think treatment should stop.”
“I am looking at six month’s of data, Mr. Perez, and the only thing that I see making a difference in your mother’s health and welfare is the calming effect of therapeutic massage.”
Damon nodded and bowed his head, then realized the doctor couldn’t see him. “I see,” he said and it was hard to force the words free.
“She was talking in her sleep this morning to someone named Marco,” the doctor noted.
“My dad.”
“And has he been to visit her?”
“No. He’s been dead for thirty years.”
“I see. Is there anyone else your mother would enjoy seeing again?”
Tears pricked at Damon’s eyes. He was being warned and he knew it. “Maybe a few people. Can you give me a timeline on this?”
The doctor hesitated for only a moment. “When we reach this point, Mr. Perez, sooner is always better.”
“I understand.” Damon struggled to think clearly. “And if you don’t continue with the next phase of chemo, what happens?”
“I think you know what happens, Mr. Perez, although I don’t think chemo is going to make any difference to the end result. Or even, really, to the timeline. The main difference will be in your mother’s comfort.”
“Will she come home?”
“Would someone be with her all the time?”
“No. I have to work.”
