Page 105 of Misery and Ecstasy

He pulls up the old scan, placing it side-by-side with the new one. It’s like looking at a Polaroid from the 80s versus an image taken by the fucking Hubble.

I grind my teeth, my molar sawing away at my enamel as I try to contain my fury over the poor quality of the machine used at Park.

What if Royce never reached out to Morwyn?

What if we’d just accepted the fate that Dr. Reeves and her staff tried to force on us?

“But on the image from today’s scan, you can see there appears to be a more defined separation between the healthy and unhealthy parts of the tissue.”

My breathing quickening, I look back at Kins to gauge her reaction. She’s leaning forward, looking between the two images with tears in her eyes. When she grabs onto my leg, I cover her hand with my own, squeezing it.

“So,” she begins, her eyes still frantically scanning each image as though she doesn’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “What does this mean, Dr. Faust?”

“Well…” Sitting back in his chair, he steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “There are a couple options on the table.”

McKinsey’s grip tightens around my leg before loosening again. I can feel her hope restoring, but I know she’s as afraid as I am to acknowledge it.

“One option would be to move forward with chemo and radiation which could shrink it over time. Another option is to sign up for medical trials that are starting soon at our campus down the road.”

I find both options equally underwhelming. I don’t know what I expected, though. That this place held some magical cure for her?

When I squeeze Kins’s hand, her eyes meet mine. The luster that briefly shined in her eyes has vanished. She as heartbroken as I am at her options.

“Or…” Dr. Faust begins again. “We can do surgery.”

Both of our heads snap back in his direction.

“I thought surgery was out of the question.” McKinsey’s voice is shaky, as though anticipation and hesitation are running through her.

“It was. For the doctors at Park Hospital but not for us. I’m confident I can remove at least 90 percent of the tumor. The remainder of which we can get with chemo and radiation post-op. A craniotomy is a tough surgery, but it’s just another day in the office for the team here.”

McKinsey closes her eyes as a breath of air rushes from her. I scoot my chair closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as tears cascade down her cheeks. I can’t tell if she’s scared or relieved.

“What would keep you from being able to remove all of it?” I run my free hand over my jaw.

“Think of it as a tumor with hundreds of tiny arms protruding from it. These arms dig into the healthy tissue surrounding the tumor. While we can get in there and get the mass out, these arms will essentially get cut off and remain, stuck in that healthy tissue before spreading farther. Does that make sense?”

I nod, reluctantly.

“That’s where the chemo and radiation will come in, to zap and kill the rest of it.”

“Kill it? For good?” Hope hangs in the balance between us and Dr. Faust.

“For a while…” he answers. “Everyone is different, and their length of survival is dependent on how well they respond to treatment.”

I hate the dread that still lingers, knowing that even with the surgery, this won’t be the end of it. Kins’s life will continue to remain on the line.

“I can give you both some time to think about the best course of action for you. I’ll be back in a few?—”

“Are you married doc?” I cut him off before he makes it out of his seat.

“Yes.” He answers matter-of-factly.

McKinsey and I lock eyes, mine staying glued to hers as I ask my next question.

“If it were your wife, what would you do?”

She smiles weakly at me, and I take a second to forever burn into my memory how stunning she is right now. Finally, when I look back at the doctor, he answers.

---