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“Yeah, sounds good.”
He grins, nods, then heads toward the door.
“Wilson.”
Henry spins back around. “Yeah?”
I exhale. “What do you know about liver cancer?”
A wrinkle forms on his forehead. “Uh, it sucks?”
I stand, pushing my desk chair away. “I’m serious, man. Like treatment, outcomes. Stuff like that.”
“I’mpre-med, Adams. They teach us about cell structure and the periodic table. I’m not an oncologist.”
I deflate. “Okay. Nevermind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“No. Forget it.”
He shoots me one last concerned, curious look, then leaves.
I drum my fingers against the desk, then unlock my phone and pull up the number for Walker-Moore Memorial Hospital. I’m on hold for a few minutes before a tired-sounding woman answers and then transfers me to the Oncology department. A man answers, then transfers me a second time, to the doctor who is supposedly treating my mother.
I spend every second of the fifteen-minute process second-guessing making this call.
There’s a click, then a man’s voice says, “Dr. Meyers speaking.”
I clear my throat. “Hi. My name is Holden Adams. I was told you’re treating my mother. Lana Harris?”
Her last name is a guess. She and my dad never got married, but I have no idea if she is now.
“Yes, she’s a patient of mine.”
“How long does she have?”
I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.
Dr. Meyers sighs. “I’m afraid I can’t share any patient information. That’s all kept confidential.”
“I’m her son.”
The words burn like acid coming out, a truth I’d adamantly deny under any other circumstance.
“Regardless of your relation, she needs to agree to any information being shared. The hospital has a legal obligation. If you’d like, I can contact your mother and request her permission?”
Part of me wants to let this doctor reach out to her. See how she reacts to me giving a shit about her health. But the rest of me knows she won’t agree, and I’ll get nowhere.
“I heard she needs a transplant. I’ve been doing some research online, and I…is it true you can donate a liver and live through it?”
Silence. I can hear the hesitation in it as the doctor deliberates whether or not to respond. I wonder how well he knows my mom. How long he’s been treating her. If he had any idea she has kids.
“Yes, that’s true,” he finally says. “The liver is an incredible organ. With a living donor, we take about half to transplant. There are risks involved, like with any surgery, but the donor’s liver will regenerate to its normal size. After a recovery period, they’re able to live a normal life. And save a life.”
“And is it true that family members are often matches?”
A longer silence this time.
