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As Dr. Hippo’s first appointment this morning, I walked through his office door on time. I gave him a firm handshake, as if that would change the biopsy result, and sat in the chair across from his desk. My knee bounced.
“Good morning, Mr. Silver.”
“Please tell me you have good news for me this morning, Doc.”
“I have good news and bad news. Which one would you prefer to hear first?”
Fuck.
I pulled a breath in through my nostrils. “Let’s start with the bad again.”
“While you’re a match for Kensi, you’re not a candidate for her because of a chronic disease called hairy cell leukemia, or HCL.”
“Did you just say leukemia?”
“I know it sounds scary and overwhelming, but let me assure you, ninety percent of HCL patents live to their normal life expectancy. In fact, most die from something completely different. Your biopsy revealed point 0.2% of hairy cells. That’s what we call early detection.”
“What kind of treatment am I looking at? Chemo?”
“The low ratio of hairy cells requires no treatment. Your bloodwork will be monitored every two months.”
God, could he suck any more air out of the room?
“Hairy cell leukemia grows at an extremely low rate, but your immune system works overtime, causing chronic fatigue.”
Apparently he could.
“The diagnosis also explains your enlarged spleen, which could present itself as pain underneath your left ribs.”
I sat open-mouthed and replayed his words in my head.
“Well, how long until treatment?”
“That varies by patient. Six weeks, months, or even years from now is possible. I’ll refer you to a homeopath. Keeping fit, healthy, and not stressed is one key to beating this disease.”
“Not stressed? You’re aware of what I do for a living, Dr. Hippo. My two-year-old has an autoimmune disease, and my seven-year-old needs of a liver transplant. I think I’m ready for the good news.”
I gripped the chair arms and my knuckles whitened. He waited until my fury settled, and I was grateful for his understanding.
“The good news is the potential donor I mentioned last week matches with all of Kensi’s markers.”
“All eight?”
“Yes. The donor is ready for surgery on Monday.”
I shot up from my seat. “That’s a perfect match. Are you serious?”
“Yes. I don’t joke about patient care, so yes, I’m serious.”
“This is a miracle, isn’t it?”
“I often think of anonymous donors as angels because of their altruistic nature.”
“Whoever it is, you tell him or her they have my full gratitude. Thank you, Doctor Hippo.”
“You’re welcome. The secretary will email you all the details, and good luck.”
I left his office with the worldleukemiaringing in my ears, yet I couldn’t resist an upbeat step. Kensi was getting her liver. I sat down at a corner table as the two doctors I’d asked to meet passed through the side door.
