Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [69]
“I think we’re both too focused on Charlie’s physical healing, Charles. I don’t know that either of us really knows how to judge his emotional response to the amputation. The cancer. I just don’t know—”
Dr. Chang broke into their exchange. “I haven’t noted any clinical signs of depression,” she interjected. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t get depressed later. I’m looking for more specifics. Say, uncontrolled weeping. Or the opposite—withdrawal of any display of feelings. As though Charlie’s shut down emotionally.” She raised her eyebrows, looking from Charles to Fran, expectantly.
Charles was vehemently shaking his head no. Fran replied, “No, he’s not … not doing either of those.”
“Any major changes in his personality—from before the surgery? I’m not ruling out any changes. Charlie’s been asked to deal with a monumental change of direction in his life. That’s a significant adjustment for anyone, let alone a child. So it’s more a matter of how well he’s dealing with that.”
“He’s still Charlie, now isn’t he, Francine? Still the same Charlie.”
Fran had to agree. “He’s such a trooper. Sometimes I think he’s doing better with this than we are.”
“If that’s the case, then I think we should proceed with the surgery. We try to balance pushing Charlie’s body too far physically with the need for the urgency of treatment. We feel Charlie has the best chance if we surgically remove the metastases from his lung. Followed by aggressive chemo.”
“What does that mean? Aggressive?” Fran crossed her arms across her chest.
“We want to use multiple drugs. We’ll try several, in different combinations. It’s trial and error until we get the right combination.”
“How often?”
“Again, that’s dependent upon how Charlie responds. But probably two or three weeks of treatment followed by a week off.”
Feeling numb, Fran could only nod, but Charles doggedly pursued the doctor’s reasoning. He had obviously been doing his own research, and though clearly somewhat annoyed, Dr. Chang answered his questions calmly and with grace.
“Let’s focus on what’s most important,” Dr. Chang insisted, pulling the conversation back where she wanted it. “Charlie’s healing and treatment and getting a prosthesis … all of that will be affected by a positive attitude,” she continued. “That’s what is key here, what makes a tremendous difference. But he still has a long way to go.” She momentarily fumbled for an explanation. “It’s like he has to climb Mt. Everest. And yes, we’re all here to help him—you two especially bear that responsibility. But in many respects? He has to climb it alone.”
“Ultimately, it’s just him and God, isn’t it?” Fran said. “Charlie needs to trust God, to rest in his strength even more than his own.” Fran’s voice was small, seeing the reality of Charlie’s difficult journey from a new perspective.
Charles’s reaction, however, was the polar opposite: His face suddenly flushed bright red, and he balled his fingers into tight fists. With emotions tightly held in check and voice controlled, he still seethed, “No, it’s absolutely not just him and God. Charlie’s got all of us to support him. Me, you, the doctors, his teammates, other friends. Pastor Greg and his teachers. We’ll all prod him on however we need to. Because he’s certainly not going to merely sit back and rest—in God. In any way.”
Embarrassed, eager to diffuse Charles and the awkward situation, Fran smiled nervously. Placed a slightly trembling hand on Charles’s arm. “Yes, I … I obviously misspoke.” She turned to direct attention away from Charles toward Dr. Chang. “When do you want to do surgery?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Not a sound from Charles, but Fran gasped, “That soon?”
“There’s no infection in the leg. The sooner we get this done, the quicker his body can completely heal. And the sooner we can begin the chemo.” Dr. Chang eyed the two of them for a moment, obviously debating. Then began, weighing her words