say something last
night?" I braced for bad news. Doctors don't call on
Saturday to tell you your good and bad lipid levels are in the
target range.
"Because I didn't hear the message until I
got here this morning with our latest victim."
I pulled back far enough to peer down at
her. "Maya, what did he say?"
"There was an…an anomaly on the
mammogram."
My heart sank, which I would not show.
"All right. What's he going to do? A biopsy? Do
you want me to go with you for the procedure?"
More tears fell. "I'm checking in to
Metro State tomorrow morning at six."
"For a biopsy?"
She nodded. "They're going to send a
frozen section for examination and decide if I need a…"
"A mastectomy?" I couldn't keep the
horror out of my voice. I don't care what men say about their
prostates. Women fear breast cancer. We fear being
marred by a grisly surgery. We fear that we'll never see our
bodies the same way again. Women don't have a slick little
blood test that measures whether or not we have breast
cancer. Instead, we get the aforementioned anatomical parts
mashed in a machine and perhaps bad news and offers of
reconstructive surgery if there's any hope at all. Don't get
me wrong. It's better than the alternative, but men don't
look at women without breasts the same way. And God forbid
you have the reconstruction and some asshole decides that it was
elective.
"I'm a medical doctor," Maya wept. "I
shouldn't be this upset."
"You're upset because you know too
much."
"Helen, what am I gonna do?"
"You're coming home with me. We're
getting rip roaring drunk, and in the morning, I'm taking you to
the hospital and staying with you for the duration."
"I love you for offering, but…"
"You need some alone time?"
She nodded. "But I'd appreciate it so
much if you could be with me tomorrow."
"I wouldn't have accepted rejection.
We'll get through this, Maya. It's probably nothing more than
a precaution. The doctor is being thorough and making sure
that nothing gets missed. He probably realizes the cry of
outrage that would rise up if anything happened to you."
Maya stepped away and turned her back toward
me. "I'm too young for this."
"Life isn't fair, honey. It's
particularly unfair to women."
"I yelled at Billy. He said he's gonna
quit."
"I'll talk to him."
"Please don't tell anyone what's
happening. I…I need this job. Especially now,
Helen. If it's cancer and I get fired because of chemo and
surgery and radiation or whatever, I'm totally screwed."
"They can't fire you for that."
"They can if Forsythe files the complaint he
suggested is in order."
"I'll talk to Forsythe. He's a
reasonable man, Maya. I'm sure, like Billy, he knows deep
down that what happened here this morning is not normal behavior
from you. Good God, you're the most irreverent, wise-cracking
medical examiner I've ever known."
"What if I made one too many jokes?
What if God is punishing me for –"
"Magical thinking," I cut off the guilty
confession before the idea could fester in her brain. "Even
if a person devoutly believes in God, how could she ever accept
punishment for maintaining sanity while doing one of the most
difficult jobs there is? You help people, Maya. You
provide answers that lead to justice for people who would otherwise
spend the rest of their lives wondering – what if ."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." Now was not the time for a
dialog on the absurdity of religion. If Maya needed faith to
get her through what could happen, so be it. "When something
happens to us beyond our control, the human response is typically
two-fold. Either we try to get control again, or we try to
find a reason, something to blame for the bad thing that sent the
world spinning off its axis. In reality, the universe is
filled with randomness. Statistically speaking, it hits all
of us eventually."
"For six years I've demanded an annual
mammogram. Thank God for that."
She
night?" I braced for bad news. Doctors don't call on
Saturday to tell you your good and bad lipid levels are in the
target range.
"Because I didn't hear the message until I
got here this morning with our latest victim."
I pulled back far enough to peer down at
her. "Maya, what did he say?"
"There was an…an anomaly on the
mammogram."
My heart sank, which I would not show.
"All right. What's he going to do? A biopsy? Do
you want me to go with you for the procedure?"
More tears fell. "I'm checking in to
Metro State tomorrow morning at six."
"For a biopsy?"
She nodded. "They're going to send a
frozen section for examination and decide if I need a…"
"A mastectomy?" I couldn't keep the
horror out of my voice. I don't care what men say about their
prostates. Women fear breast cancer. We fear being
marred by a grisly surgery. We fear that we'll never see our
bodies the same way again. Women don't have a slick little
blood test that measures whether or not we have breast
cancer. Instead, we get the aforementioned anatomical parts
mashed in a machine and perhaps bad news and offers of
reconstructive surgery if there's any hope at all. Don't get
me wrong. It's better than the alternative, but men don't
look at women without breasts the same way. And God forbid
you have the reconstruction and some asshole decides that it was
elective.
"I'm a medical doctor," Maya wept. "I
shouldn't be this upset."
"You're upset because you know too
much."
"Helen, what am I gonna do?"
"You're coming home with me. We're
getting rip roaring drunk, and in the morning, I'm taking you to
the hospital and staying with you for the duration."
"I love you for offering, but…"
"You need some alone time?"
She nodded. "But I'd appreciate it so
much if you could be with me tomorrow."
"I wouldn't have accepted rejection.
We'll get through this, Maya. It's probably nothing more than
a precaution. The doctor is being thorough and making sure
that nothing gets missed. He probably realizes the cry of
outrage that would rise up if anything happened to you."
Maya stepped away and turned her back toward
me. "I'm too young for this."
"Life isn't fair, honey. It's
particularly unfair to women."
"I yelled at Billy. He said he's gonna
quit."
"I'll talk to him."
"Please don't tell anyone what's
happening. I…I need this job. Especially now,
Helen. If it's cancer and I get fired because of chemo and
surgery and radiation or whatever, I'm totally screwed."
"They can't fire you for that."
"They can if Forsythe files the complaint he
suggested is in order."
"I'll talk to Forsythe. He's a
reasonable man, Maya. I'm sure, like Billy, he knows deep
down that what happened here this morning is not normal behavior
from you. Good God, you're the most irreverent, wise-cracking
medical examiner I've ever known."
"What if I made one too many jokes?
What if God is punishing me for –"
"Magical thinking," I cut off the guilty
confession before the idea could fester in her brain. "Even
if a person devoutly believes in God, how could she ever accept
punishment for maintaining sanity while doing one of the most
difficult jobs there is? You help people, Maya. You
provide answers that lead to justice for people who would otherwise
spend the rest of their lives wondering – what if ."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." Now was not the time for a
dialog on the absurdity of religion. If Maya needed faith to
get her through what could happen, so be it. "When something
happens to us beyond our control, the human response is typically
two-fold. Either we try to get control again, or we try to
find a reason, something to blame for the bad thing that sent the
world spinning off its axis. In reality, the universe is
filled with randomness. Statistically speaking, it hits all
of us eventually."
"For six years I've demanded an annual
mammogram. Thank God for that."
She
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