Terminal

Harry shook his head. “Remember, when you hear hoofbeats you should think of horses, not zebras. Helen Cabot’s case is unique even though there have been a couple of similar cases recently reported around the country. Nonetheless, I’ll be willing to wager anyone that we’re looking at metastatic tumors here.”

“What service do you think he should be on?” George asked.

“Six of one, half dozen of another,” Harry said. “If he’s on neurology, we’ll need an internal medicine consult for the metastatic workup. If he’s on internal medicine, he’ll need the neuro consult.”

“Since we took Cabot,” George suggested, “why don’t you guys take him. You interact better with neurosurgery anyway.”

“Fine by me,” Harry said.

Sean groaned inwardly. All his work doing the history and physical was for naught. Since the patient would be admitted to neurology, the medical student on neurology would get credit for it. But at least that meant Sean was free.

Sean motioned to George that he’d see him later on rounds, then slipped out of the CAT scan room. Although he was behind on his off-service notes, Sean took the time for a visit. Having been thinking and talking about Helen Cabot, he wanted to see her. Getting off the elevator on the seventh floor, he walked directly down to room 708 and knocked on the half-open door.

Despite her shaved head and a series of blue marker stains on her scalp, Helen Cabot still managed to look attractive. Her features were delicate, emphasizing her large, bright green eyes. Her skin had the translucent perfection of a model. Yet she was pale, and there was little doubt she was ill. Still, her face lit up when she saw Sean.

“My favorite doctor,” she said.

“Doctor-to-be,” Sean corrected her. He didn’t enjoy the charade of playing doctor like many medical students. Ever since he graduated from high school he’d felt like an imposter, play-acting first at the role of a Harvard undergraduate, then an MIT fellow, and now a Harvard medical student.

“Have you heard the good news?” Helen asked. She sat up despite her weakness from the many seizures she’d been having.

“Tell me,” Sean said.

“I’ve been accepted into the Forbes Cancer Center protocol,” Helen said.

“Fantastic!” Sean said. “Now I can tell you I’m heading there myself. I’ve been afraid to mention it until I heard you were going too.”

“What a marvelous coincidence!” Helen said. “Now I’ll have a friend there. I suppose you know that with my particular type of tumor they’ve had a one hundred percent remission.”

“I know,” Sean said. “Their results are unbelievable. But it’s no coincidence we’ll be down there together. It was your case that made me aware of the Forbes. As I’ve mentioned to you, my research involves the molecular basis of cancer. So discovering a clinic where they are having hundred-percent success treating a specific cancer is extraordinarily exciting for me. I’m amazed I hadn’t read about it in the medical literature. Anyway, I want to go down there and find out exactly what they’re doing.”

“Their treatment is still experimental,” Helen said. “My father emphasized that to me. We think the reason they’ve avoided publishing their results is that they first want to be absolutely sure of their claims. But whether they’ve published or not, I can’t wait to get there and start treatment. It’s the first ray of hope since this nightmare started.”

“When are you going?” Sean asked.

“Sometime next week,” Helen said. “And you?”

“I’ll be on the road the crack of dawn on Sunday. I should be there early Tuesday morning. I’ll be waiting for you.” Sean reached out and gripped Helen’s shoulder.

Helen smiled, placing her hand over Sean’s.

AFTER COMPLETING report, Janet returned to the seventh floor to look for Sean. Once again the nurses said he’d been there only moments earlier but apparently had disappeared. They suggested paging him, but Janet wanted to catch him off guard. Since it was now after four she thought the best place to find him would be Dr. Clifford Walsh’s lab. Dr. Walsh was Sean’s Ph.D. advisor.

To get there, Janet had to leave the hospital, brace herself against the winter wind, walk partway down Longfellow Avenue, cross the medical school quadrangle, and climb to the third floor. Even before she opened the door to the lab, she knew she’d guessed correctly. She recognized Sean’s figure through the frosted glass. It was mostly the way he moved that was so familiar. He had surprising grace for such a stocky, muscular frame. There was no wasted motion. He went about his tasks quickly and efficiently.

Entering the room, Janet closed the door behind her and hesitated. For a moment she enjoyed watching Sean. Besides Sean there were three other people busily working. A radio played classical music. There was no conversation.