cyst when thegynecologist who wasoperating on her
discoveredthat shehad metastaticcoloncancer. Iwas
summoned,asageneral surgeon,tosee whatcouldbe
done.Iremovedasectionofhercolonthathadalarge
cancerous mass, but the cancer had already spread
widely.Ihadnotbeenabletogetitall.NowIintroduced
myself.Shesaidaresidenthadtoldherthatatumorwas
found and part of her colon had been excised.
Yes,Isaid.I’dbeenabletotakeout“themainareaof
involvement.” I explained how much bowel was
removed,what therecoverywouldbe like—everything
except how much cancer there was. But then I
rememberedhowtimidI’dbeenwithSaraMonopoli,and
allthosestudiesabouthowmuchdoctorsbeataroundthe
bush.Sowhensheaskedmetotellhermoreaboutthe
cancer, I explained that ithad spread not only to her
ovariesbutalsotoherlymphnodes.Isaidthatithadnot
been possible to remove all the disease. But I found
myself almost immediately minimizing what I’d said.
“We’ll bring in an oncologist,” I hastened to add.
“Chemotherapy can be very effective in these situations.”
Sheabsorbed thenewsin silence,lookingdownatthe
blanketsdrawnoverhermutinousbody.Thenshelooked
up at me. “Am I going to die?”
I flinched. “No, no,” I said. “Of course not.”
Afewdayslater,Itriedagain.“Wedon’thaveacure,”I
explained.“Buttreatmentcanholdthediseasedownfora
longtime.”Thegoal,Isaid,wasto“prolongyourlife”as
much as possible.