They were there another hour. Finally, a tall, tired-looking woman in a lab coat came into the waiting room. “Claire Austin?”
Claire stood up. At the suddenness of the movement, she almost fell. Meg steadied her.
The woman smiled. “I’m Dr. Sheri Kensington, chief of Neurology. ”
“Claire Austin. This is my sister, Meghann. ”
“It’s nice to meet you. Come this way. ” Dr. Kensington led them down a short hallway and into an office that was lined with books, diplomas, and children’s artwork. Behind her, a set of X-ray–like images glowed against the bright white backlighting boxes.
Claire stared at them, wondering what there was to see.
The doctor sat down at her desk and indicated that Claire and Meghann should sit opposite her. “I’m sorry you had problems with Dr. Lannigan. This is, as I’m sure you know, a teaching hospital, and sometimes our residents are not as thorough as we would wish. Your demand for a higher level of care was a much-needed wake-up call for Dr. Lannigan. ”
Claire nodded. “Meghann is good at getting what she wants. Do I have a sinus infection?”
“No, Claire. You have a mass in your brain. ”
“What?”
“You have a mass. A tumor. In your brain. ” Dr. Kensington rose slowly and went to the X rays, pointing to a white spot. “It appears to be about the size of a golf ball, and located in the right frontal lobe, crossing the midline. ”
Tumor.
Claire felt as if she’d just been shoved out of an airplane. She couldn’t breathe; the ground was rushing up to meet her.
“I’m sorry to say this,” Dr. Kensington went on, “but I’ve consulted with a neurosurgeon and we believe it’s inoperable. You’ll want second opinions, of course. You’ll need to see an oncologist, also. ”
Smack.
Meghann was on her feet, pressed against the desk as if she were going to grab the doctor’s throat. “You’re saying she has a brain tumor?”
“Yes. ” The doctor went back to the desk and sat down.
“And that you can’t do anything about it?”
“We believe it’s inoperable, yes, but I didn’t say we can’t do anything. ”
“Meg, please,” Claire was absurdly afraid that her sister was going to make it worse. She looked pleadingly at the doctor. “Are you . . . saying I might die?”
“We’ll need more tests to determine the exact nature of your tumor, but—given the size and placement of the mass—it’s not a good outlook. ”
“Inoperable means you won’t operate,” Meg said in a don’t-screw-with-me voice that was almost a growl.
Dr. Kensington looked surprised. “I don’t believe anyone will. I consulted with our top neurosurgeon on this. He agrees with my diagnosis. The procedure would be too dangerous. ”
“Oh, really? It might kill her, huh?” Meg looked disgusted. “Who will do this kind of operation?”
“No one in this hospital. ”
Meg grabbed her handbag off the floor. “Come on, Claire. We’re in the wrong hospital. ”
Claire looked helplessly from Dr. Kensington to her sister. “Meg,” she pleaded, “you don’t know everything. Please . . . ”
Meg went to her, knelt in front of her. “I know I d
on’t know everything, Claire, and I know I’m a blowhard. I even know I’ve let you down in the past, but none of that matters now. From this second on, all that matters is your life. ”
Claire felt herself starting to cry. She hated how fragile she felt, but there it was. Suddenly she felt like she was dying.