Flying Too Close to the Sun

Lin

It hadn't worked. It hadn't worked. In 90% of cases, it worked, but it didn't for our Raina. The news had been devastating. I'd been with Pippa when she'd received the call and she collapsed. I sank to the floor with her, holding her as she cried. What were we going to do?

The doctor told us to come in the next day to discuss options. We didn't tell the kids anything until we knew an action plan. It would just worry them, and they didn't need that.

We had my parents watch Raina while we went to meet with the doctor. The next stage of treatment was called consolidation. She would we treated with multiple drugs, and it would last for 1-2 months. The doctor said she'd likely have the same side effects – lethargy, hair loss, vomiting, and loss of appetite. We steeled ourselves for at least another month of this hell.

When we got home, Pippa got on the laptop and started researching more and more. The kids were all at school and Raina was napping. She was on the computer for a good three hours, taking notes. When she was done, she got a beer from the fridge, a rarity.

I was working at the table as she sipped.

"Lin?" she asked me.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we should take Raina to another doctor," she told me. I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. She was serious.

"Why?"

"If 90% of kids have remission after induction, maybe they're not doing something right," she said, sitting down. "I mean, what are the chances that our child is in that 10%?"

"Pip, it doesn't work in 10% of cases. That means some families aren't lucky the first time through. Unfortunately, Raina's part of that 10%."

"I think we should take her to St. Jude's," Pippa blurted.

"What?" I asked, sitting back and crossing my arms.

"They're one of the leaders in childhood cancers," she explained, completely focused and prepared. "If we get her there now, we have a better chance of beating this."

"Pippa, St. Jude is in Tennessee," I reminded her. "How would that work?"

"I would go with her," she said, like it was obvious.

"And I would stay here with three kids?" I asked her.

"You have your parents here," she reminded me. "It wouldn't be ideal, but I think it's the right thing to do."

"Pippa, there's no reason we need to take her anywhere else at this point," I said. "The doctors we're working with are very highly rated and recommended. We just had bad luck. The consolidation will work."

"But what if it doesn't?" she asked, becoming upset.

"Sweetheart," I reached out and took one of her hands in mind. "You need to stop this. Taking Raina away from her home, away from her family is not going to do her any good. She's receiving top treatment here in New York City. You need to chill out."

She scooted her chair out and snatched her hand away. "Don't tell me to chill out!" she yelled, her eyes showing hurt. "Our daughter might die from cancer, and you're not even willing to consider the possibility of taking her somewhere else."

"There's no need, Pippa," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but I was having trouble. Pippa was starting to become blinded with fear. "Look, this is a scary situation. But right now you're acting out of fear. We need to take a step back and think about the whole family."

"The whole family doesn't have cancer, Lin," she told me, her tone unpleasant.

"I know that," I told her.

"Then why won't you agree to take her to St. Jude?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"Pip-" I stood up, but she waved her hand dismissively. She stormed down the hallway and slammed the door. I collapsed in my chair and ran a hand through my hair. Why was Pippa being so impossible? I knew she was a mother scared out of her mind, but Mount Sanai Children's Hospital was one of the best in the country. We couldn't ask for better care.

Pippa spent the rest of the afternoon in her room, except to check on Raina. Dinner that night was tense, and she turned away from me when she climbed into bed. I turned onto my side, looking at the back of her head.

"Pip?" I asked gently, tentatively reaching out to put my hand on her upper arm.

"What?" she answered. I gently pulled on her arm to get her to lay on her back so I could look at her.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," I began. "But I just don't think we need to seek other treatment. She's getting really good care."

"Then why isn't she better?"

"Pip, she would've received the same treatment at any hospital. Every hospital would've started with the same wave of medicine."

"You don't know that," she countered.

"You don't think I've researched this?" I asked her. "Believe me, I have. Every hospital, every website lists the same thing."

She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I'd just feel better if she was somewhere like St. Jude's."

I sighed and turned onto my back as well. How was I going to convince her that the best place for Raina was in New York? I had a gut feeling she would worsen if she was away from her family, especially her twin brother. Being in a strange place wouldn't do her any good. If I truly thought she'd get better care elsewhere, I'd be the first to take her there myself, but I didn't.

We didn't say anything more. I turned away and so did she. For the first time ever in our marriage, we went to bed in the middle of an argument.