“Thank you.”
“Of course. You know that today is mainly a formality, right?”
“Nothing is ever that simple,” I counter, because I know full well they can pull the plug if I say something they don’t like.
“This is true,” he chuckles. “What time do your patients arrive?”
“I actually have one here now. She wasn’t feeling well, from what I’m told. As soon as we wrap up here, I’ll head to her room.”
He nods. “You didn’t see her beforehand?”
My answer could make me look either responsible or uncaring. “I didn’t. I didn’t want to see her until I was fully green-lighted. If something were to happen in this meeting that pulled the trial, I didn’t want to have given her misinformation.”
I’d rather go with my best foot forward. Which I will, after I know I’m approved completely.
“Makes sense. Shall we?” He motions forward.
We enter the boardroom and my colleagues start to trickle in. I stand with my hands resting on the cool leather seat, trying to keep my heart rate steady. Public speaking isn’t my thing, and it’s definitely harder in front of a firing squad.
I’ve had to do this five times, whenever I’ve lost a patient in surgery, and each time was equally horrific. Not only was I broken over knowing I’d lost someone, but then to have to recount each moment, decision, and error in front of my peers, have my decisions picked apart . . . it’s unimaginable.
A few of the doctors smile their encouragement, having been where I’m standing now, and I focus on breathing. All the chairs but one are filled, and Dr. Pascoe clears his voice. “I’d like to begin since Dr. Adams already has a patient waiting.”
Everyone nods and I head over to close the door. But a hand presses against the wood, stopping me, and I gasp as I realize who it is.
“Sorry I’m late,” Westin says with a smile.
“Late?”
Confusion spreads through me. He never mentioned he’d be here and I hadn’t thought neurosurgery would be involved in my trial. All he’d said this morning was that he’d see me later. I wasn’t aware he’d be part of the approval board. Westin may be the hot doctor, but he’s also the asshole on these boards. He grills the doctors coming before the board, making them uncomfortable so they’ll slip up.
Well, this should be great.
“Take a seat, Dr. Grant,” Dr. Pascoe notions to Wes. “Hello everyone. As you know, Dr. Adams is now in the third phase of her trial with the new chemotherapy regimen for treating ovarian cancer. The first two phases proved, for the most part, positive, and delivered safe results. This phase will be run slightly differently, and we’ll need a majority approval or denial.”
Please don’t pass out. Please don’t throw up. Please approve this.
Westin clears his throat. “I’d like to say something before we begin. I am going to be waving my right to vote on whether the trial should proceed due to the personal relationship I have with Dr. Adams. However, I will participate in the inquiry in order to best serve the hospital and the patients involved if that’s acceptable by the board. Chief?”
Dr. Pascoe’s eyes move to mine and he nods. “I accept that. Does the board have any objections?”
A chorus of “no’s” go around.
Great.
He looks to his secretary. “Please note the board does not object to Dr. Grant abstaining from the vote.” Dr. Pascoe turns back to me. “Dr. Adams. You have the floor.”
The table is in a “u” formation with a table, chair, and microphone in the middle. It’s an intimidating seat, where all eyes are on you. I don’t sit, I stand with my fingertips grazing the wood. Nerves fill my belly, making their way up my throat, but I swallow them down. I need to be a badass doctor right now.
“Hello, thank you for being here today. I can't tell you how exciting it is to be on the brink of a new medical discovery that could revolutionize the way we treat ovarian cancer.” And I begin to launch into my presentation, my nerves growing less shaky as I get into the zone.
That is, until Westin raises his hand, interrupting my speech. “Dr. Adams, this is all well and good, and as doctors ourselves, we understand the desire to save everyone, but we also know that cancer isn’t that clear-cut.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree.
“So why detour from a known treatment path? Why should we risk this hospital’s reputation?” He leans back with his brow raised.
Based on his aggression, no one in this room would believe that a few hours ago he was trying to shove his tongue in my mouth. I can’t believe he’s the first one to fire a shot at me, but I refuse to let him win.
I lean forward, looking directly in his eyes. “Throughout my entire career, I have studied different treatments and various drug cocktails to treat and shrink tumors in the ovaries. I have yet to find anything that has done exactly what this combination has done.” My knuckles turn white from pushing down on the table with all my weight.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Westin pushes further. “Why is your drug treatment worth allowing the possible loss of life?”
My legs start to tremble, however, my voice stays steady. I want these people to respect me and understand that this is exactly what we need to do. “Yes, it is possible we could lose a patient by delaying surgery if a tumor is resistant to the drug cocktail and doesn’t shrink as we’d hoped. We may end up dealing with a number of other side effects, but the fact remains that these women are willing to take that risk. Your question is like me asking why a doctor would operate on a brain bleed when you could administer medication first.”
Westin smirks, shifts closer, and shakes his head. “Let’s not go there, Dr. Adams. This isn’t remotely close to choosing to operate or choosing not to. You are asking us to let you give a mix of drugs that we don’t have any proof will actually help reduce tumors. If it is not successful, not only will these patients need the hysterectomy you’re trying to avoid, but their cancer may progress, requiring more aggressive chemotherapy later on.”
In the bedroom, he’s kind, loving, and takes care of me. Right now, he’s acting like a prick who wants to dismember me. I don’t know how to reconcile this, but I won’t let him ruin today. He was the one who told me I was crazy if I didn’t do this.
He held me in his arms, telling me he was proud and he’d be there each step. Now I’m wondering if he meant to push me down the steps. Then I remember this is Westin. He’s not cruel and there must be a reason for him acting this way. I steel myself, keeping my demeanor professional and sure.
“Yes, they’re different, but aren’t they the same in some ways? Is the risk worth more than the reward? How do you determine the odds, Dr. Grant?”
“I’m not the one asking the hospital to stick its neck out for a trial that we aren’t certain will yield any results at all. You are.”
“I’m completely aware of that, but I’ve also proven in the last six months that I’m not throwing caution to the wind. I’ve shown positive results with the adjustments in the last three patients in phase two. A reduction that I’ve never been able to produce before with any other drugs in so short a time. I believe this round will show an even greater shrinkage in the tumors.”