“Yeah, I know.”
“Didn’t you mention two possible protocols? One was much more conservative, just taking enough of a section to replace the most damaged portion. That would leave him compromised, but it shouldn’t be fatal.”
“Yes, that was one of the approaches. Maybe that would be enough to take care of the worst of this without…sacrificing him. Sort of like a healthy person donating a kidney. They compromise themselves somewhat, but still have the other.” Jeremy paused, gathering the nerve to ask his next question. “Amanda, I know this is a huge imposition, but if I do this, I’m going to need a little help while I recover. I hate to ask this of you, but I can’t very well hire someone, given the circumstances.” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
Amanda paused for a long time before answering. “I would need to rearrange my schedule, but I think I could manage it. I imagine you wouldn’t be up to running up and down those stairs for at least a little while afterwards.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can be there. You shouldn’t be alone for this.”
Jeremy felt the first and only shred of reassurance he’d felt in some time. “Thanks, Amanda. I really appreciate you doing this. I’ll get things arranged and let you know the schedule.”
After he hung up, Jeremy sat for a moment and let his decision sink in a bit before calling Glen. Having Amanda to help him through it was more than he could have hoped for, but even the more moderate surgical approach still didn’t sit right when he dared to look into his conscience.
He called Glen and asked him to bring Tim to his office to confer on an important matter, then he sipped some more water and tried to prepare himself for the reality of actually committing to this decision.
Moments later, Glen and Tim stepped into his office.
“What’s up?” asked Glen.
Jeremy explained the morning’s events and why he had asked them to come to his office.
“Well, if it’s progressed that acutely, why not address it in one procedure—take the entire large and small intestine?” Glen sat forward in his chair, his eyes positively alight with excitement at the prospect.
“That would mean death, or at minimum an extremely unnatural and painful existence for the Subject.” Jeremy shook his head. “I’m just not prepared to go that far. I’m barely prepared to even take this step.”
“Well, aren’t you having the unnatural and painful existence right now?” Glen folded his arms as Tim sat silent, his lips pressed tightly together.
“That doesn’t mean I have the right to inflict it on someone else. No, I don’t want to discuss that version of the procedure. I want the most conservative possible, to try to solve my problem and still leave him in the least compromised condition.”
Glen waved a dismissive hand and took on a patronizing tone. “All right, if that’s how you feel. Given what you describe, I think we’ll be having that discussion at some point anyway.”
“I’ll deal with that if and when it comes up. So, what do we need to do to prepare?”
Tim spoke up. “Jeremy, you look horrible. I think the first thing to do is some pre-op blood work, of course, but we also need to get some fluids into you. You’re certainly dehydrated, and it would be too dangerous to proceed until that’s cleared up.”
Glen nodded. “That sounds sensible. We should also put you on some stronger steroids temporarily just to get your tract calmed down so you can build a little strength back up. I wouldn’t want to operate with you in an active flare-up situation unless there was no other choice. Let’s get conditions as optimal as possible first.”
“How soon for the procedure, then?”
“Let’s plan on a week out, and work on building you up in the meantime.” Glen glanced at Tim, who nodded in agreement.
Jeremy wished he felt better about his decision. Not only was he undertaking something beyond his ethical comfort zone and inherently risky, but he also was being forced to place his trust—and his life—in the hands of the very two people who had concealed the project from him in the first place.
CHAPTER 23
“Just lie back on the table, Jeremy.” Tim turned to the counter at the side of the treatment room and prepared the IV kit.
Jeremy lay down and rolled up his right sleeve. The heavy steroids had calmed the pain and irritation in his bowels, but of course such doses were not something that could be tolerated by the body for very long. Still, he was grateful for the relief for now.
Tim turned around, hooked a bag of saline on the bracket above the head of the gurney, then placed a tourniquet on Jeremy’s arm. “You ready?”
Jeremy nodded. He hoped Tim was good with needles, because he hated them. He already felt woozy from being dehydrated and full of steroids in the first place.
He flinched as Tim jammed the needle home into the vein on his upper wrist. He then taped it down, removed the tourniquet, and adjusted the flow of the saline.
“All right. Now just rest there. This should take maybe an hour to infuse. I’ll check on you in a while and we can see if this will do it, or if another bag would be advisable. You OK?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, just relax. I’ll be back in a while. There’s a panic button over on your left if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
Tim left the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Jeremy settled his head on the paper-covered pillow and closed his dry and tired eyes. The saline felt cool and tickled slightly as it flowed into his vein. He welcomed it. After the repeated gut-tearing bouts of diarrhea he’d had in recent days, he felt as if no amount of water he could try to drink would get to his tissues and refresh him like this.
He tried to relax, tried to focus on positive thoughts. He looked forward to seeing Amanda again, though he certainly would have preferred to see her under far different circumstances. How strange it would be to have her in his house taking care of him, given that they had split up mainly because she didn’t want to end up caring for someone incapacitated by a debilitating disease.
And of course, there was the elephant in the room. The Subject. The unwitting donor. Whatever you wanted to call him. It was probably too late to question whether he had a right to this transplant without becoming a complete hypocrite—even more so than he already felt himself to be. The wheels were in motion; he’d made the choice, such as it was. Jeremy supposed the best he could do was to be sure the Subject was kept as comfortable as possible, and given the best available care to recover from the procedure. He tried to make peace with that position and doze a little.
After a while, Tim returned to check on him. “Perfect timing. Bag’s just about empty.” He pinched the skin on the back of Jeremy’s hand to test his hydration. “Well, it’s better than you were. How do you feel?”
“I think a little better. I’d like to get up and move around now anyway.”
“OK, we can give you some more later if we need to.” Tim quickly slipped the needle out and taped a piece of cotton over the site. “There. Let me help you sit up. Don’t get up too quickly.” Tim cranked the gurney so that it elevated Jeremy’s torso at about a 45-degree angle. “Rest like that for a few minutes.”
“I really do feel quite a lot better than earlier today.”
Tim chuckled. “Well, that wouldn’t take much. You really looked like shit when you called us in.” He raised the back of the gurney just a bit more, and changed to a less conversational tone. “Jeremy, I know you’re not completely comfortable with the idea of the procedure. I understand. I think it’s a huge advance that can bring a lot of relief to patients if we were to commercialize it, still…it’s disconcerting, on the edge.” Tim looked off into the distance.
Jeremy was somewhat surprised at Tim’s admission. He had just supposed that Tim and Glen were completely in concert on the project. But, now that he thought more about it, Glen was the more vocal one. Maybe they weren’t equally committed after all.
<
br /> Jeremy rolled his sleeve down. “Hey, thanks, I’m feeling all right now. You don’t need to babysit me anymore.” He smiled.
“OK, thanks. I do need to get to some work in the cultivation room. We’ve got some more new starts in there to check on.” Tim left the room.
Jeremy was relieved to see him go. He wanted to be alone so he could take care of something he needed to do.
Jeremy glanced up and down the hallway to be sure he would have a little bit of private time, then he opened the door to the Subject’s enclosure and stepped inside.
He softly shut the door behind him and stood staring at the Subject, who had been sitting on the padded shelf that served as both seating and bedding. Upon seeing Jeremy enter, the Subject stood and moved to the front of his cell. He grasped the bars and quietly stared back at Jeremy. He seemed to expect something.
Jeremy stepped about halfway to the Subject and looked into his eyes. He wondered what he was thinking, if he was thinking. What sort of things went through his head? He looked so vulnerable behind those bars, dressed in that surgical gown. Did he have wants, desires? Could he even conceptualize such things? Surely he had basic drives, like the need to eat and drink. Like the desire to be free from pain. Jeremy winced as he thought of what the Subject would soon undergo. For his benefit.
Jeremy stepped even closer. The Subject did not move away. Instead, he returned Jeremy’s stare, almost as if he knew him. Is he searching my eyes for a clue to why I’m here? A chill chased up Jeremy’s spine. Soon they would be joined, in a strange sort of way. On an impulse, Jeremy reached out, tentatively, and lightly touched his fingertips to those of the Subject. He instantly wished he hadn’t, as he experienced a strange sort of thrumming on his fingertips where they contacted the Subject.
The Subject gently grasped his fingers in his hand. And then he smiled.
Startled by the Subject’s move and the strange sensation in his fingers, Jeremy flinched and reflexively snatched his hand out of the Subject’s grasp, as if he’d accidentally touched a cobra.
Looking as if he was going to cry, the Subject recoiled and sat back down. He then rolled over to face the wall as he curled into a fetal position.
Jeremy didn’t know what to say or do, and so he quietly left the room and closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to encounter Glen or Tim, so he quickly headed back to his office so he could be alone to reflect on what had just happened.
Maybe that was it. White Coats are good. No White Coat, not good. Can’t trust.
The Subject looked closely at the hand Not White Coat had touched. How strange it had felt. White Coats had never touched his hand like that. White Coats cleaned him. White Coats changed his clothes. White Coats never touched without a purpose.
What was the purpose of No White Coat touching him?
The Subject could not understand; he became uneasy.
He curled up even tighter, then fell asleep for a while.
CHAPTER 24
Amanda hung up the phone. Why the hell did I let him talk me into that? Now I’ve let myself get sucked into this thing. Great, just great. She’d have to do some serious scrambling to juggle her work schedule to accommodate such an absence.
And then there was Rick.
They’d already made plans for their weekend away, and she’d have to cancel it. Surely he’d not be thrilled with that hassle and disappointment. It had been all they’d been talking about since he nailed the reservations. They’d planned to drive to a fancy lakeside cabin in Wisconsin. She shrugged. At least they wouldn’t have plane reservations to redo as well.
But what to tell him? Her true reason for cancelling had to be kept secret—even if the patient didn’t happen to be her former boyfriend. The mysterious sick girlfriend would have to resurface. The continuity would likely bolster the story’s credibility, and she could lean on it being some female issue to avoid getting into details.
She took a deep breath to prepare herself for a nice, elaborate—and hopefully successful—lie, picked up her phone and dialed.
“Hey, Rick, how’re you doing?”
“Fine. What’s up?”
Amanda closed her eyes and hoped she could pull it off. “Well, um, remember my old girlfriend who had the medical issues a couple of months back?”
“Yeah, what about her?”
“Well, she’s having problems again. This time she needs surgery. I need to go back and stay with her for a while.”
“When?”
“That’s the problem. I’ll need to be there over the time we’re scheduled to go to Wisconsin.” Amanda held her breath. She knew he’d be pissed; it was only a matter of how much.
“Are you serious? I’ve already made the reservations and put down the deposit.”
She replied quickly to try to sidetrack his rising anger. “I know, I’m sorry, but the scheduling just worked out that way.”
“Since when are you a nurse, anyway? Are you the only one who can do this? Maybe she should just hire someone to help her.”
Amanda hadn’t thought ahead to this line of objection. She struggled to come up with a quick, yet credible, response. “Well, it’s serious enough she will need some help getting around, but not so bad I can’t handle it. Given the sort of problem it is, I just don’t think she’d be comfortable with a stranger in the house.”
“Well, maybe there’s a compromise. Maybe she can get paid help just for the weekend we’re in Wisconsin. Couldn’t that work?”
Knowing her position had a serious flaw, Amanda tried again. “Well, I really can’t talk about what her problem is, but she would be really, really uncomfortable with a stranger in her home with her, even for that short time. She really needs me the whole time. It’s hard to explain.” She hoped that would do it.
“Well, this is an awfully big favor you’re doing her, I’d say. You’ve never even mentioned this friend to me before, yet she’s someone you’re willing to drop everything for to assist like this—twice now. I’ll have to meet her sometime when she’s better. What’s her name, anyway?”
“Yeah, maybe someday. Her name is Jen. You know, I need to go. I have a lot to do to rearrange my work in the meantime.” Amanda hoped Rick would forget about his newfound desire to meet her friend—and that she wouldn’t get tripped up on the name in some later conversation.
“All right. Take care and keep me posted, OK?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” Amanda hung up and let out a long breath. She did not need all this intrigue in her life.
Amanda scowled as she clicked off the remote. A major snow storm was fast approaching right through the route she would have to travel. She wished she had been able to get on the road before now, but she had to go into work most of Saturday to prepare for her absence. Her work generally involved long hours, which made it all the more difficult to arrange to be gone for possibly several weeks on such short notice.
She shrugged. Might as well put that behind her now. She’d wrapped things as best she could with work and with Rick, and it would just have to suffice. She returned to her bedroom, where a large bag lay open on her bed and clothes lay strewn everywhere. She checked her watch. Not even getting a good early start on the day. Her inability to decide on what to pack and just get it done reflected her underlying misgivings about the whole situation.
On so many levels, she wished she hadn’t agreed to help. She didn’t like lying to Rick and making him cancel their plans on such short notice. She’d had to push off some work deadlines that gave her cause for worry. Even more, she feared getting drawn back into Jeremy’s life, especially now that he was involved in such a questionable experiment.
But what choice did he really have? It sounded like his condition was deteriorating rapidly—just as it had with his mother. His decision was a life-or-death matter. And ethical qualms aside, it was still going to be a tricky procedure. He’d need help while he recovered. How could she have said no?
Still, she wondered if she’d experience any profe
ssional backlash, should her involvement ever come to light. Granted, she was only caring for him after the procedure and had nothing to do with the underlying experiment, but…did she have any professional duty to report it? She’d never found herself in a situation remotely similar to this, and so had no idea.
And yet, that was part of the attraction. Ivan’s boldness and vision in setting the project up and driving it this far—even after his death—tantalized her. She could never admit that to Jeremy, given how he felt about his father. But Ivan had set up what might be the answer for Jeremy’s severe Crohn’s. It was, frankly, brilliant, and she wanted to witness it, to see it succeed.
She glanced out her window. Storm clouds blocked the mid-day light, making it look as dark as early evening. She had to get on the road now, else risk delay by getting caught in dangerous conditions. Jeremy’s surgery was tomorrow.
Amanda pulled another, smaller bag from her closet, flung it onto the bed beside the larger one, and proceeded to just toss all the clothes into them as fast as she could. Time to quit screwing around. She’d lived in Minnesota long enough to know things on the road could get ugly—and fast.
She set the bags down by the front door, then hurried through her apartment, making sure she’d turned everything off and secured things suitably for being away for a couple of weeks. She could call the landlady to check on things if she ended up being gone longer.
Only about twenty minutes into the drive, Amanda lost her race with the weather. Big, fluffy snowflakes began slapping against the windshield. To anyone who didn’t live somewhere like Minnesota, these would resemble the innocent, picture-postcard sort of flakes. The snow globe kind. But Amanda knew better. These were the most dangerous kind. She glanced at the temperature gauge in her dash. Thirty-two. Just as she feared.
Warmer snow meant deeper drifts because the snow itself was not compact, and the snow would be heavy and sticky because of its increased moisture content. This would be the kind that would accumulate on the wipers, eventually rendering them useless. Amanda mentally calculated the added travel time from having to stop periodically to knock the blades free of the accumulation so they would actually function.
The Janus Legacy Page 8
