Dr. Gregory Wall stood at the foot of the exam table. Seated on the table was his newest patient, Shelly White. The child sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap. Shelly looked drawn and tired. She had a right to look that way. After she’d endured two days of tests, Wall and other doctors determined cancer cells from a large tumor were attacking her, robbing her of her strength and energy. Carol White, standing by her daughter, also looked drawn and tired, but from fear.
Wall loved the practice of medicine, but there were times when he hated it. This was one of them. No matter how often he had to inform parents that their child had cancer, it still gutted him. Some doctors learned to remove the emotion from such conversations, but Wall lacked that ability. The words, “We found cancer,” still burned in his throat.
Carol had checked her daughter in for treatment. What choice did she have? Wall and St. Teresa’s offered some hope, and she had to do everything she could to save Shelly.
Nurses had set up a little room for Carol to stay to avoid the two-hour drive back and forth from home.
Explaining cancer to adults was easy. It was so widespread that almost everyone knew someone stricken the disease. Children Shelly’s age had trouble understanding what was wrong with them. Wall had become adept at making the complicated sound simple. One thing he couldn’t do was make it easy to hear.