numerousquestionsabouthowexactlyitwouldbedone.
Whatkindofinstrumentdoyouusetoenterthespinal
cord,heasked?Doyouuseamicroscope?Howdoyou
cutthroughthetumor?Howdoyoucauterizetheblood
vessels?Couldn’tthecauterydamagethenervefibersof
thecord?Weusesuchandsuchaninstrumenttocontrol
prostatebleedinginurology—wouldn’titbebettertouse
that? Why not?
Theneurosurgeon atmy hospital didn’tmuchlike my
father’squestions.Hewasfineansweringthefirstcouple.
Butafterthathegrewexasperated.Hehadtheairofthe
renowned professor he was—authoritative, self-certain,
and busy with things to do.
Look,hesaidtomyfather,thetumorwasdangerous.He,
theneurosurgeon,hada lotofexperiencetreatingsuch
tumors.Indeed,noonehad more.Thedecisionformy
fatherwaswhetherhewantedtodosomethingabouthis
tumor.Ifhedid,theneurosurgeonwaswillingtohelp.If
he didn’t, that was his choice.
Whenthedoctorfinished,myfatherdidn’taskanymore
questions. But he’d also decided that this manwasn’t
going to be his surgeon.
The Cleveland Clinic neurosurgeon, Edward Benzel,
exudedno lessconfidence.But he recognizedthat my
father’squestionscamefromfear.Sohetookthetimeto
answerthem,eventheannoyingones.Alongtheway,he
probedmyfather,too.Hesaidthatitsoundedlikehewas
moreworriedaboutwhattheoperationmightdotohim
than what the tumor would.