Cell by Robin Cook

supportive?”
    â€œFrank and supportive, if that is possible.”
    â€œIt is possible. First I have to say that on a statistical basis these lesions are most likely metastatic cancer, hardly good news, considering all that you have been through. I am so sorry about this, but we must be proactive. A biopsy has already been scheduled, which will give us the definitive answer. Once we have that result we will consider our options.
    â€œI also know you’ve just come from a meeting with your oncologist, Dr. White. Based upon the notes that he entered in your medical record, I know you’re aware of your current situation. This is a stressful circumstance for you, Greg, as it would be for anyone, and your vitals reflect that. It would be best for you to go home. I’d like you to have a sedative, but I don’t want to administer it until I know you will not be driving. Your pulse rate is up and you’re perspiring more than—”
    â€œStop!” Greg said, impatient to get to the heart of the matter. “Just give me specifics about the biopsy. What are the chances that the liver lesions are in fact cancer?”
    â€œUnder the circumstances the chances are 94.36 percent. I’m terribly sorry to have to give you this information, but it is the most accurate that I can determine, considering thousands of similar previous cases.”
    Greg had wanted it cut-and-dried and that’s how iDoc just gave it to him. Tears welled up in his eyes.
    â€œPlease go home and lie down!” iDoc said. “Your pulse is going up. You need to relax. Call me when you get home, and we will talk more. There are some new promising treatments available.”
    â€œYou remember that my kidneys are still not functioning up to par.”
    â€œOf course I am taking that into consideration. Now please go home and try to relax.”
    Greg clicked off his iDoc.
Thank God for Dr. Williams
, he thought. Dan Williams was the name he had chosen for his iDoc physician. A Dan Williams had been his football coach in high school, a man he had worshipped.

9
    L.A. UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
    WESTWOOD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
    MONDAY, JUNE 30, 2014, 12:05 P.M.
    G eorge hustled toward the front of the hospital, still hoping that his unauthorized departure had gone unnoticed. As he approached the main door he spotted Greg Tarkington coming out. The man was clutching his smartphone. His face had an intense, strained expression. George slowed down, debating whether he wanted to say something to the patient. He decided he would rather not; his excuse was that he was already late getting back. But Tarkington saw him as they were about to pass each other.
    â€œHello, Doctor uh . . . ,” Tarkington stammered. He stopped.
    â€œWilson,” George finished for him.
    â€œYeah. Sorry. A lot on my mind at the moment.” He put away his phone and stood silent.
    Here was an example of what he had just been talking about with Paula. He felt an overwhelming empathy for this man but was unable to think of anything to say.
    â€œI just learned that the MRI wasn’t good,” Tarkington managed. “I mean it wasn’t good news. Sorry for putting you on the spot earlier. Who wants to tell someone that?” He tried to smile.
    George was taken aback. Tarkington felt empathy and compassion toward
him
, the doctor. George experienced a moment of profound guilt.
    Tarkington shrugged and looked at the ground. “Life has its challenges,” he said, raising his eyes to George’s.
    â€œIt does.” George was at a loss. “You seem to me like a person who meets the challenge,” he finally added after a pause. He was awed by Tarkington’s courage and wondered if he would have the same, were the situation reversed. He also wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if the man hadn’t had the MRI.
    â€œWell, I’m not going to roll over without a fight. It’s going to