“If you want my opinion, I think you’re overthinking,” Chet said. “To me, the associations you mention sound like just a couple of tragic coincidences rather than a conspiracy. As for Laurie’s situation, would you like me to make some calls? I’m relatively certain I could find out what’s happening with her surgery. My experience is that to-follow cases are always delayed because OR schedulers want the patients to wait, not the doctors, if you know what I mean. If I find out for you, you won’t be sitting here stewing.”
“Thanks, but I suppose I could call myself,” Jack said. “But I’m hesitant. Stupidly enough, I’m superstitious about calling whether it’s you or me. I know that sounds crazy, but what can I say.”
Suddenly Jack’s mobile rang loud enough to make him jump. “It’s Laurie’s surgeon,” Jack said to Chet after taking a peek at the screen. Chet flashed a thumbs-up and left. Jack clicked on the call and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello, Doctor,” he said, trying to sound upbeat while crossing his fingers. It was a throwback gesture to his childhood. He’d never met Claudine Cartier but knew of her by reputation. She was one of the busiest general surgeons.
“Hello, Dr. Stapleton,” Claudine said. In his hypersensitive state, she sounded upbeat, which was encouraging. “I wanted to let you know that Laurie is in the PACU and is doing just fine. Everything went well, including the endoscopic oophorectomy.”
“Fabulous,” Jack said. “What was the result of the breast biopsy?”
“The biopsy was positive,” Claudine said. “The preliminary path diagnosis is carcinoma with medullary features. It is not a common tumor, except with patients having the BRCA1 mutation.”
“I see,” Jack said, trying not to let his sudden disappointment and distress show. He’d hoped and trusted the biopsy would be negative or if it had to be positive that it would be a more benign, intraductal variety.
“There was also a microscopic amount of the tumor in the sentinel lymph node but none in the other of the half dozen or so nodes that were removed. I think that’s very encouraging, especially considering the small size of the primary tumor.”
“Did you do a total mastectomy on the involved side?” he asked.
“We did,” Claudine said. “And what we call a preventive mastectomy on the other side. And with the help of Dr. Roberta Atkins, a superb plastic surgeon, we did bilateral breast reconstruction. I’m very pleased with the final result, and I believe Laurie will be, too.”
“So, what’s next?” Jack asked. He felt a little weak and supported his head with his free hand, elbow on the desk.
“I will leave that up to Dr. Wayne Herbert, the oncologist,” Claudine said. “I believe he will be happy hearing about the small size of the primary tumor and the minimal nodal involvement.”
“How long will Laurie be in the PACU?” Jack asked.
“That’s up to the anesthesiologist,” Claudine said. “I’d guess an hour or so. The anesthesia went very smoothly, and Laurie woke up quickly.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Claudine said.
Jack disconnected the call and sat for a few minutes staring ahead. It certainly wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but in retrospect it wasn’t terrible news, and Claudine definitely sounded content. With a sudden need for human contact, Jack pushed back from his desk and hiked down the hall to Chet’s office.
“The news wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great, either,” he said, standing in the doorway.
“Come on in and tell me what you learned!” Chet said. He lifted a stack of case folders off his office chair and stashed them next to his microscope.
Jack stepped into the office and sank into the chair. He then summarized for Chet in a kind of depressed monotone what the surgeon had told him.
“I’d say that sounds like pretty good news to me,” Chet said. “Come on, man! Buck up! Small tumor, one node, hell, that’s child’s play for today’s oncologists. You should be glad it was found this early.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Jack said, trying to rally.
“When will you be able to see her?”
“In a couple of hours or so, is my best guess,” he said. “She just got into the surgical recovery room after a pretty lengthy anesthesia.”
“You know what you should do?” Chet said suddenly with conviction. “You should get your ass out of here. Go home, see your kids, and then when Laurie is back in her hospital room, go and see her! That’s what you should do. Otherwise you are going to drive yourself bananas sitting in that office of yours trying to keep your mind busy by looking at histology slides and filling out death certificates.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jack said. The idea of some exercise had a humongous appeal. So did seeing Emma and maybe even JJ, if he got home early enough. And there was always the chance of a bit of basketball. He stood up. “Thanks, Chet. I needed that.”
“Don’t mention it,” Chet said. “I’m sure Laurie is going to be fine. Why don’t you text her to give you a call as soon as she hooks back up with her mobile. She’ll get it when she gets back to her room.”
“That’s another great suggestion,” Jack said, and meant it. The fact that he’d not thought about doing it himself made him appreciate that he wasn’t thinking normally.
Chapter 38
May 11th
3:40 P.M.
Never had Jack gotten better advice. For the next thirty-four minutes he didn’t think about anything but the road and the traffic around him. With the air whistling through his bike helmet, he made great time riding north on First Avenue all the way up to 55th Street, where he turned westward. For a time, he even managed to hit the traffic lights correctly. Then when he finally entered Central Park where Sixth Avenue dead-ended into it, the ride was even more enjoyable. Since cars were no longer allowed in the park, Jack and the other bicyclists, joggers, power walkers, skateboarders, and even a few in-line skaters had the East Drive all to themselves. It was with reluctance that he exited the park at 106th Street and rode the half block down to his brownstone.
After climbing the ten steps up the stoop, he turned around and looked over at the basketball court. As he expected, there was no game yet since it was too early, although there were two people working on their jump shots. If he wasn’t intent on spending some quality time with the kids, he might have gone over and joined them. Instead he carried his Trek bike inside, then climbed the stairs up to his family’s apartment.
Once inside the apartment and while mounting the flight of stairs leading to the family room and kitchen, he could hear the calm voice of Emma’s speech therapist, Karen Higgens, whom he had met on several occasions. As the floor came into view, he could see Emma and Karen sitting at the dining room table having a snack while Caitlin was in the kitchen, doing the prep work for the children’s dinner. Not wanting to interrupt the therapy session, Jack gave the table a wide berth to get into the kitchen. Caitlin was ostensibly glad to see him.
“How is Laurie?” she whispered to avoid bothering Emma and Karen. Her concern for Laurie’s well-being was palpable. “Have you heard?”
“I did talk with the surgeon,” Jack said, also keeping his voice down. “I was told the surgery went well and that Laurie was in the anesthesia recovery area.” He didn’t elaborate, thinking that Laurie could share what she wanted to share.