Dr. Marsteller Chapter 27
27
Dr.
Marsteller entered Mrs. Viscane’s hospital room. Her breathing was heavy like an athlete after
a run. As she struggled, Dr. Marsteller
noticed her leathery neck tense and relax with the breaths. She lied on the bed with one sheet pulled up
just below her chin. One of her arms
protruded out the side and hung limp over the edge of the bed. Dr. Marsteller could see the pale bland blue
robe she was wearing underneath. The bed
had her reclined at a 45-degree angle. When
she spoke, it was between her heavy breaths.
-Mrs. Viscane, my god, I got here as soon
as I could.
-What’s happening? she gasped.
The pain of her condition was clearly
revealed in her eyes, sunken in her face.
Her constructed face hid a pale desperate expression. Sweat beaded down the sides of her false cheeks
from her forehead. Like rain droplets
sliding down the side of a limestone church.
-It may have something to do with the
surgery Dr. Reicher performed.
-He assured me that it wasn’t. They told me I had a very aggressive
angiosarcoma. Dr. Reicher assured me
that this has never occurred in the history of heart surgery. He claims it’s your cure.
Dr. Marsteller now sucked in a breath of
his own.
-It’s entirely possible Mrs.
Viscane. What works in mice does not
always work in humans. There have been
countless failed therapies that worked in mice and not humans.
-I understand the risks Dr.
Marsteller. But I felt so strong. It’s possible it may go into remission. Is it possible? Is it possible that this case of cancer is
unique and could maybe go away?
-It’s entirely possible, Dr. Marsteller
said without knowing if any truth was in his statement.
-I feel so much pain now. But I’m wondering if this is just a bump in
the road. A side effect of the therapy.
-It could be. He relaxed slightly.
-Did the mice ever show any of these
symptoms?
Dr. Marsteller considered the insanity of
the question and the position he was in.
-No, the mice have never shown these
symptoms.
-Do you want to run any tests on me for
future reference when we try this in the brain?
-Yes, of course, I’ll obviously talk to the
doctors here about your condition.
-They keep asking me questions about my
scar and when I had surgery. I told them
when the surgery was, but I refuse to tell them what it was for. But they know it was open-heart surgery. They don’t know for what. They assume some connection. But I won’t tell them.
-That’s good, we signed the
confidentiality agreement.
Dr. Marsteller held out his hand and she
reached over and held it tightly.
-I’m glad you’re here, she said.
Her chest heaved and her black eyes like
deep wells stared at the ceiling. She
began to slow down her breathing and gain control of it again. But she wasn’t interested in speaking, she
wanted to hold his hand and relax after the fit passed. Dr. Marsteller tried to wrap his head around
the fact that he had created this situation.
It was because I neglected my research, he thought. As he regarded her lying there, he could feel
his guilt slowly seeping from his brain down to his heart. But he was able to stop the drip for now by
thinking possible tweaks to his experiments.
Maybe she was right, he thought.
Maybe she would recover. Maybe
human beings develop a cancer that isn’t life threatening like the cancer the
mice developed. Or if they did, maybe it
was easily treated. And after it is
treated, maybe her heart will be stronger after the cancer is eliminated. He would have to see. A lot of things could happen that would be
favorable. Then Mrs. Viscane spoke, this time in a hushed tone.
-They want to perform open-heart surgery
on me again. They want to try and remove
the tumor. What do you think I should
do? Should I wait to see if it’s serious
first?
-I’m not a medical doctor Charlotte.
She smiled her grotesque smile.
-I think you should call me Charlotte all
the time. I like it. You know that Ezekiel has only been here once
since I got ill? And my bastard children
have only been here once as well. I hope
they all burn in hell.
-You don’t mean that.
-Here you are flying back from a talk in
England just to see me. And now after
visiting me, you’ve been here just as much as they have.
-I’m sure they’ll be around some
more.
-They want to do surgery
immediately. I haven’t agreed to it
yet. I wanted to talk to you.
-I think you should do what they say.
-That’s what Dr. Reicher said. He knows the man that will be performing the
surgery and says he’s a good surgeon.
You don’t think removing the tumor will hurt the therapy, do you?
-No, I think removing it might be a good
idea.
-Do you think we should add more of your
cure when they perform the surgery?
-No, I think we ought to see what happens
with the original therapy first.
-I can pay these guys just like Dr.
Reicher to add the cure. We won’t tell
them that is what the surgery was from before.
-Mrs. Viscane, let’s just see what
happens with the original one first.
With the mice we only gave the exact same concentration as we did for
you.
-But if there’s a chance that more is
needed for a human than a mouse…
-Mrs. Viscane, do you want the cancer
cells to live forever?
That seemed to quiet her, thought Dr.
Marsteller.
-I suppose you’re right, she said.
When he returned home, his wife and son
were in the living room. His son was
watching TV, playing with his phone and lying across the couch with knee bent
and his head turned towards the glow as it reflected off his face. Every so often, he flipped the channels
sporadically like intermittent gunfire.
-How was she? his wife asked nervously.
-Not good.
-Good god.
-Don’t worry, honey, it seems that it may
be another case of what works in the mouse doesn’t work in the human.
-Do they have her on chemo or anything?
-They are going to try and remove the
tumor.
-What are you guys talking about? said
Jack
-Nothing son. Dr. Marsteller and his wife moved to their
bedroom where they could talk in private.
-You’re not going to get in trouble for
this Sly?
Suddenly he became angry like a provoked
wild animal.
-Goddamnit, I fucking told you that we
signed a confidentiality agreement, he exclaimed in an accusatory tone.
-Sly.
-Seriously, I’m sick of you asking me
questions about this. It is what it is.
-Don’t use that tone with me.
-I’m sorry honey, I’m just a little upset
with things right now.
-Fine, she said stomping out of the room,
talk to me when you calm down and stop being an asshole. By the way, you’re supposed to call Dr.
Reicher, she said as she stormed out of the room.
Damnit, though Dr. Marsteller. He put his palms on his desk and stretched
his neck while leaning forward on his hands.
Then he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone.
-Hello.
-Dr. Reicher, it’s Sly Marsteller.
-What the hell, Sly?
-Excuse me?
-What the fuck is going on with this Mrs.
Viscane thing?
-She’s got cancer.
-I know damn well she has cancer, but how
did she get it? Because she certainly
didn’t get it from my surgery.
-It might have been from the therapy, Dr.
Marsteller.
-No shit it was from the therapy, but how
does an aggressive angiosarcoma go unnoticed in your research.
-Sometimes mouse research doesn’t
translate well to human research.
-Are you telling me that none of those
goddamn mice got cancer?
-No, they didn’t doctor.
-Well, I’m finding it hard to believe
that you could give whatever you gave to Mrs. Viscane to another mammal and not
cause the kind of wildly aggressive tumor that she got.
-The human cell isn’t the same as the
mouse cell.
-It’s not that goddamned different.
-Dr. Reicher, if you gotta problem with
me, that’s fine, but I’m telling you that everything indicated that this would
be successful in humans. And goddamnit,
you’re under no liability here, so I don’t know what your problem is, go enjoy
the money you earned from the surgery.
-Well, maybe you can shrug off a death on
your conscience, but I can’t.
-Dr. Reicher, for god’s sake, you have no
guilt in what has happened. And neither
do I. It was a scientific
experiment. I don’t know what went
wrong, but I aim to find out. I feel
awful about everything.
-Well, you should. I’m beginning to think you’re a charlatan.
-Fuck you. I’ve had enough of this shit; you know that
this happens sometimes when therapies are first used in humans. And who says she’s going to die anyway.
-I’ve seen this before; she’s as good as
dead. I won’t say a word to anyone per
the agreement, but I hope you have fun living with it, because I sure as hell
won’t.
-Fuck you.
-And by the
way, I just found out they’re going to try a new chemo trial instead of trying
to remove the tumor. They eventually
decided against surgery because of her age and it’s too soon after our
surgery. You better hope the researcher
on new chemo was more honest than you.
Dr. Marsteller hung up. He wasn’t taking any more badgering from Dr.
Reicher.
This originally appeared in Dr. Marsteller