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Hector read out loud, letting the words wrap me in an embrace. “Thirteen percent difference in remission between the control and experimental groups at six months. Carolina, the experimental group treatment is thirteen percent more effective than the standard of care. I can’t wait to see data from year three and year four. I bet you it could go up as much as fifty percent when it’s all done...Carolina? Are you okay?”
I bolted out of my seat and ran out of his office. Luckily, the bathroom wasn’t too far down the hallway from his office. I made it just in time to vomit. I rinsed my mouth, and when I exited the ladies’ room, Hector was leaning against the wall across from the door, his brows knitted together.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded and walked back to his office. I sat and tried to listen to whatever he was saying, but I couldn’t. My eyes prickled with tears. He said he thought this could be up to fifty percent better than the standard of care. That, plus all the advancements in medicine since I’d lost her, meant she could have beaten it if she had been diagnosed today instead of so many years ago. I tried to do the math in my head.Yes.I was confident she would have lived.
“Carolina.” Hector stared at me.
Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze. “Sorry,” I said. “I think I’m in shock.”
“It’s okay. Take a minute.”
After a long silence during which I tried to compose myself, he finally spoke.
“Who was it?”
“Who was what?”
“The loss that drove you to this mad battle against cancer.”
I pressed my lips together in thought, not sure I was ready for him to know so much. I didn’t like talking about it in general, not even to Dad, with whom I shared everything.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I very much want to know, Carolina.”
His eyes were so soft, so full of empathy, I couldn’t help myself.
“My mother.”
He nodded but didn’t ask any more questions.
“I’m sorry.” His glasses came off as he searched for whatever he was going to say next. “Please don’t get offended by what I’m about to say. It’s hard to put my feelings into words.”
“Okay . . .”
“I envy you. Not because you lost your mother, obviously that’s not what I’m trying to say. I only mean many people who lose someone do nothing about it. You decided to go into the toughest profession and fight for a spot in a competitive residency so that you could save another little girl’s mom.”
“No offense taken,” I said. “I think I understand what you are trying to say.”
“I also envy that you have a reason, a strong one, for doing this.”
“What? You don’t?”
“No. Not really.”
“So then, why did you decide to be a doctor and get into oncology?”
“See, this is where I find it tricky to explain myself. When I was younger, I was very concerned about my legacy. About what contributions I would make to the world before I died. I guess I still am, in a way.”
“I think that’s a great reason.”
“There is nuance there if you look carefully. It sounds noble to aspire to do good in the world, but no one ever admits the selfishness of the sentiment. All of us dreamers and would-be philosophers have the same thing in common: our bloated egos. You’d think we’d want to do good in the world for the world’s sake, but it’s more selfish than that. We do it for the personal satisfaction.” He grinned, pleased with his explanation. “See? Selfish.”
“I don’t think it’s selfish at all.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Had you been my mother’s doctor and been successful in saving her life, do you think I’d have given a rat’s ass about what led you to that success? Dr. Medina, you’ve done so much good in this field. I expect you will continue to do good in the latter half of your career. The patients you save—and theirfamilies—don’t care why you do it, so long as you fucking do it.”
