Orderlies have wheeled Lisa’s bed from the ER to her own private hospital room. Five doctors now stand at the foot of her bed; they form a close circle looking like a basketball team during a time out. One of them is her oncologist, another the cardiologist and the other three haven’t introduced themselves. Each of their coats is a different shade of blue. I look around the room to see if there is a chart that explains which specialty is associated with each shade, who knows, maybe this hospital works on the Garanimals system.
The topic for discussion is Lisa’s heart edema. The doctors talk too fast and over one another for me to hear every word, but they are loud enough for me to pick up bits and pieces.
-“I don’t like the fluid around the heart, we need to go in and drain.”
-“Wait what about the baby? You can’t put her under, she’ll lose the baby.”
-“I’m guessing she’ll lose it anyway. Her cancer has spread, she has to have chemo.”
-“I may have a way to save the baby; I have a chemo treatment I’ve used before on pregnant mothers.”
- “Too risky, the fluid is too dangerous and could cause serious damage.”
-“Couldn’t just put a needle in there and drain using a chest tube?”
-“But that’s only a temporary fix. Now it could come back, and it could be worse, we should put her under and operate.”
-“I still think we can work around the baby.”
Lisa is focused on the doctors, her face unmoving except for her eyes, which bounce from doctor’s mouth to doctor’s mouth, trying to figure out who is saying what. It surprises me they are having this discussion in front of us. I feel like yelling, “You do know we’re sitting right here, right? Why don’t you take this outside, come to a consensus, nominate someone as point, and present it to us?” But before I can tell them their little pow-wow is upsetting Lisa, they nod to each other and all walk out of the room except the cardiologist.
He walks to Lisa’s bed, sits by her feet, and faces her straight on. His posture is straight, his head up, and he places his hands in his lap. He has all the confidence of a man with a winning ticket. He looks at her, but waits to give her a smile - the delay is to let us know he’s in position of power. He finally releases a smile, letting us know, not only is he in control, but now he’s our best friend. His doctor/Jedi trick is working on me; I am completely caught up in this presentation. Right now, he could wave his hand in front of my face, and say, “I will run down the hallway naked,” and I’d start running with half of my clothes off before I got to the door.
“Lisa, as you saw we’ve all be discussing, you have a lot of things going on inside there,” he says. “And my concern is, if we don’t operate, the fluid around the heart could collapse one of the chambers. I recommend we terminate the pregnancy tonight and get in there tomorrow and take care of that fluid”.
“What are the other options?” Lisa asks.
Her abruptness surprises me and breaks me out of the spell of my doctor crush. Unlike me, Lisa is not ready to do whatever he - with his withholding smile - tells her to do.
“Well, we could insert a needle through your chest to drain the fluid; without anesthesia, mind you, because of the baby. But fluid could come back and collapse a chamber.”
“But there’s a chance it won’t come back,” she says. “Or even if it does, you can drain again,”
“Correct. But Lisa, this would be a gamble. You are lucky we caught it this time, you may not be so lucky next time.”
“What are the chances of the fluid coming back again and how long until it would?”
“I honestly don’t have the answers to that; again, there is a lot going on with your body.”
The doctor shifts his position and gets a little more leg up on the bed; by doing so, he inches up closer to Lisa. Lisa doesn’t flinch.
“I refuse to make this decision based on fear,” she says. “You don’t have enough information for me to abort this pregnancy.”
“Lisa, it’s that lack of information that worries me. This is a wild card. You, right now, are a wild card, and a very sick woman.”
“But this is all based on guesses. I want the option of inserting the needle through my chest and drain the fluid.”
There’s a long pause while the doctor looks at Lisa. “Okay. But I don’t recommend this; you’re risking your heart.”
He sits there, as if waiting for the nervous girl with fluid around her heart to start over-talking by asking impossible questions like, “but I’ll be okay, right”, questions where he can alter his answers by working on her fears to get what he recommends, “You could be okay, as long as we can operate as soon as possible”. But Lisa doesn’t over-talk, she says nothing. After a moment of silence, he gets up and walks out of the room.
A major decision was just made and I wasn’t even a part of the discussion. I guess for something this serious, I was expecting a more over-the-top husband/wife dialogue, like one of those movies on Lifetime, where a doctor comes to deliver bad news to a love struck married couple, and they now must make a life changing decision. The movie starts and we see the wife in a hospital bed, husband standing by her side, holding her hand. A good-looking doctor, with gelled hair, walks in holding a clipboard.
“I don’t know, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, we really need to get in there today and remove her heart,” he has a baritone voice that at any moment could break out into a glorious rendition of God Bless America.
The wife immediately turns to the strong minded husband and says, “I don’t know John, what you think?”
“Gosh Mary, it does sounds risky removing your heart, but look at him, he’s so good-looking and has a beautiful voice. Maybe we should do what he says.”
“Oh John, you are my rock, I love you.”
“Oh Mary, you are the light that shines upon my rock, I love you.”
The doctor laughs and cuts in on the conversation, “Okay you two love birds, I’ll leave you alone for a minute, but then I have to come right back in and take out that heart.”
That is not what happened here at all. Lisa flew solo in her conversation. It was right out of Animal Planet, the mother lion, protecting her unborn cub.
Suddenly, I feel guilty. My gut instinct was to listen to the doctor and terminate the pregnancy, no questions asked. I’m worried that with the inevitable chemo treatments and now with the pulmonary edema, Lisa has some painful procedures on the horizon and most of her upcoming suffering can be controlled by medication. But if she’s still pregnant, her painkillers will be restricted. But to Lisa, pain management isn’t important right now and I wasn’t on the same page of her thought process. I didn’t check in with her to see where her emotions were. I guess I want to be on record I pick my wife over anything else. I want to take her side and worry about the grief of losing a child later, but her side is trying to save this pregnancy. If I am going to be a source of strength for her, I must learn how to communicate better.
“Matt, I cannot terminate this pregnancy based on guesses,” Lisa now says, half talking to me, half talking to herself. “I would hate myself forever for not trying, I know I would.”
I sit down next to her and rub her hand as a sign of support.
As we sit in silence, it dawns on me that Lisa sitting on the living room steps, struggling to breathe, was today. The series of new developments is staggering and seems like a week full has passed. I start to replay all the events from the past twenty-four hours. As I go through all the details of the day: the edema, seeing Dr. Benton, the cancer, the idea of starting chemo, the pregnancy, the thought of leaving my job. One detail jumps into my head, and chills run through me as I feel my stomach turn: Doctors are going to stick a needle into my pregnant wife’s chest, to drain fluid from around her heart.
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