Westin leans over to the head of cardiology and whispers something before looking back at me. If looks could kill, Westin would need every doctor in this room to save his ass.
“Dr. Adams,” the head of OB-GYN interrupts the staring contest I was having with my . . . partner.
“Yes?”
“As someone who refers a great deal of patients to you, I have a different opinion on this,” Tracy’s eyes are soft. She too has had to tell many patients the bad news. “I’d like to point out the repercussions of not pushing past the current protocols of medicine. If we are to keep with the status quo, are we not ruining our reputation that way? Are the advantages of taking the safer route greater than the advantages of doing something potentially groundbreaking?”
A few people move in their chairs writing things down, which I take as a positive sign.
“Exactly,” I say. “We have to be better than our predecessors. As doctors, it’s imperative to try to find not just the right treatment, but the best one for each patient. None of us have the answers or a crystal ball, but we have science and training, and I’m not taking a gamble I wouldn’t take myself.”
“You’re telling me that if you had ovarian cancer right now, you’d attempt this trial? You’d risk the chemo, which we know doesn’t always shrink the tumor, go through weeks of hell, and possibly still need a hysterectomy?” Westin asks.
“If I was in the position to save my eggs and possibly still bear children, yes.”
“Even knowing there’s no real proof? Even if you knew that you would be putting yourself at great risk?”
I lean against the table and look him dead in the eye. “Absolutely. I believe in this treatment. It’s not always about life or death. To some women, it’s about having a choice. Their disease is out of their control, but this is something they can choose. They aren’t delusional about what the outcome might be, but it could be exactly what these patients need to keep fighting. They aren’t too far gone that we can’t at least try. If it fails, at least we will have done everything we can. So you asked me if I would do it? Yes. I would administer this to myself, my mother, and anyone I love, because it is working. The girl in the previous trial is alive with a tumor three-fourths the size of the one she came in with, and I will be able to operate this week to remove it. How much more proof do you need that this mixture of drugs is worth trying? We get to reduce the tumor, save the patient from a hysterectomy, and preserve the option for her to bear children later.”
He nods and I look around the room at the others following his motion. “I appreciate the honesty, Dr. Adams. As you said, the risk of denying you would possibly hurt patients.”
Everyone nods, looking to me.
Westin Grant may not be voting, but he just won the entire room for me.
He wasn’t grilling me because he’s an asshole trying to take me down. He was making me push past the nerves and bullshit to display my passion.
Once again, the question I asked myself earlier slams around in my head: what the hell is wrong with me?
Our eyes meet and I see the warmth there. Westin is on my side. A part of the heart inside me that vowed it couldn’t love again cracks. Just a little.
Chapter 5
After my spirted debate with Westin, the vote goes through unanimously. The protocol was set as to how often I have to submit results, and the hospital has assigned two other doctors to consult. They’ll act as my liaisons to the board, and also my tattletales. If there’s anything that seems out of place, it’s their job to report it.
The room clears out, leaving Tracy and Westin alone with me.
“Good luck, Ren,” Tracy says gripping my arm. “I’m rooting for you.”
“Thanks for backing me up.”
“I’m always going to support anything like this. People’s lives are too important to play political games with, right?”
I nod. That’s where medicine gets its bad name, from the political bullshit that goes on behind the scenes. Denying people what they need, thanks to insurance or doctors whose egos hinder the decision to provide treatment that might actually work.
We’ve all seen it, and good doctors hate it.
Westin takes his time stuffing papers into a chart as Tracy walks out of the room. Once we’re alone, I decide it’s time Dr. Grant and I have a talk about what just happened.
“So . . .” I say, walking toward him.
His eyes lift and he grins. “Hey.”
“Thank you.”
Wes pushes his hair back and then rubs his chin. “For?”
“Being on my side.”
He releases a heavy sigh. “I told you I was.”
“You did, and then you seemed to turn for a minute there,” I laugh softly, standing in front of him and leaning on the table. “I wasn’t sure what you were doing trying to rake me over the coals. Especially since you never mentioned you’d be in the meeting.”
“What would’ve been the fun in that? It was much better looking like you were caught off guard and then having your side piece tear you to shreds in front of your mentor. I mean, at least now people will believe we’re nothing more than sex buddies.”
“You’re more than that, Wes.” The words fall out effortlessly and I wish I could pull them back.
He jerks back slightly, runs his fingers through his light brown hair, and smiles. “How about that?”
Damn it.
“What?”
Westin gets to his feet with the folder in his hands and then taps me with it. “Growth.”
I’m not even sure what I meant. Of all the days for me to decide to change something between us, why today? For two years I’ve been totally content with keeping things simple, then Julie says some stupid shit and I’m adjusting my thinking?
“Whatever,” I blow off his comment as I push off of the table. “I was going to come looking for you anyway.”
He chuckles. “I figured.”
“Oh, did you?” I ask as we head out into the hallway.
“Well, that is kind of your thing. You often want to find me before a big surgery or something else where you need to work off some stress, don’t you?” Westin jokes.
I’m not sure why that bothers me at all. He’s right. But I realize it makes me sound like a crazy sex fiend. Which isn’t the case . . . for the most part. We’re friends, and I trust him in a way that I haven’t allowed myself to trust anyone else.
“Yes, but that isn’t why I was looking for you,” I try not to look affronted.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’d like to think our time together at work is about more than me finding you for sex, Wes.”
Westin jerks his head back slightly. “Okay, you’re right, sometimes you come talk to me about a patient.”
The small knot in my stomach constricts. He did something for me and I want to repay him. “Well, this time I was going to come find you to talk about us having dinner tonight.”
“Tonight?” he asks.
“Unless you’re taking back the offer . . .”
Westin shakes his head, leans against the wall, and smiles. “Nope.”