Free Cell by Robin Cook Page B

discussed, it’s a very difficult cancer to treat. Its location and anatomy are . . . problematic. We have done the best we can. If the biopsy confirms that these new lesions are the same cancer, then we will have to be aggressive.”
    â€œWill that mean more chemo?”
    â€œI’m afraid it does.”
    â€œBut the chemo is killing me! It already compromised my kidneys, I’m still undergoing dialysis. On a less frequent basis than before but . . .”
    â€œThere are a lot of arrows left in our quiver, Greg. If more chemo is needed, we will choose agents that don’t have kidney toxicity.”
    â€œLike what?” Greg wanted specifics. His goddamn life was on the line.
    â€œI can’t say exactly what that might be. Not yet. Let’s wait and see what we are up against.”
    â€œHow much time do I have?” Greg pressed.
    â€œThe biopsy has yet to be done—”
    â€œHow much time if the biopsy is positive?”
    â€œI can’t say.”
    â€œGuess!” he demanded. Dr. White was not going to get away with hemming and hawing. Not today.
    â€œI’ve never been right when forced to give a guess in such a situation, but let’s just say that it would be a good time to get your affairs in order. I’m sorry, Greg, but you are just going to have to buck up.”
    The comment hung in the air.
    â€œBuck up?” Greg repeated mockingly. “After all I have been through and you’re telling me to ‘buck up.’ Worse, you’re being evasive. But it’s okay. I’ll contact iDoc when I get home and get what I need.” Greg knew he was being confrontational, something he had not done up until that moment, but now he didn’t care. He was sitting on the business end of a death sentence.
    â€œI am not being evasive. The answers to your questions are unknowns,” Dr. White replied. He was aware that Greg was part of the first cohort to use iDoc. He had been impressed with the app since the number of off-hour phone calls had dropped significantly. Emergency room visits and requests for office visits from others in the program had plummeted, too. “But let me remind you that iDoc hasn’t gotten the results of the MRI yet. I received the preliminary report by calling the radiology resident. When iDoc does receive the results, please let me know if it offers any new perspective. As I understand it, its algorithm has significant resources of knowledge available. So in the event that I’m missing anything, I would welcome hearing about it.”
    He started making notes on a digital tablet. “But most important, we have to ascertain what these liver lesions are. We need to schedule a biopsy and a series of pre-biopsy clotting studies.”
    â€œiDoc can do the clotting studies the morning of the biopsy,” Greg said.
    â€œI’ll give you the script anyway,” Dr. White replied without looking up. He continued typing into his device.
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    G reg had never felt so helpless. Even in the last go-round of chemo he had always had hope. If hope was still alive anywhere inside him now, it was doing an excellent job of hiding. Greg’s iDoc chimed in with a short selection of Bach’s Cello Suite no. 1. The music normally had a calming effect on him, but not today. Recognizing that iDoc wanted to talk, Greg moved to a quiet corner of the hospital’s hallway and clicked ANSWER on the app. His doctor immediately appeared.
    â€œHello, Greg. May we talk? You are on speakerphone.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’ve just been apprised of your last MRI study. I am sorry to have to tell you that there were several abnormalities seen as reported by one of the more senior radiology attendings. Would you like to talk about this now or later?”
    â€œNow,” Greg said without hesitation.
    â€œWould you like me to be frank or just