Page 515 of Billionaire Beast

Jace

I’m sitting in my office, telling a patient of mine, Robert Wilson, that his kidney cancer, against all expectations, is in remission, but my mind is somewhere else entirely.

I thought she was kidding, but after 10 minutes and a cup of yogurt, Grace did exactly what she said she would do.

Today’s the first day of the clinical trial, and if I had any objectivity before that morning in her apartment, it’s gone entirely now.

“That’s good news, right?”

“I’m sorry?” I ask.

Mr. Wilson asks again, “That’s good news, right? Remission means it’s gone.”

“Unfortunately, the cancer isn’t completely eradicated,” I tell him, “but your tumor has begun to shrink. We still have a way to go before we can call it a total victory, but this is great news. You’re back near the top of the transplant list, and I think we’ve got a really good shot of knocking this thing out. With that said, I do want to impress upon you the importance of managing our expectations here. Renal cell carcinoma is very serious, as you know. Still, I think there’s cause to be optimistic.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he says. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have you as a physician.”

So far, at least, crossing the line with one patient — Grace — hasn’t caused me to lose sight of my work in general.

“Talk to Yuri and we’ll get you in sometime next week,” I tell Mr. Wilson. “And it’s okay to smile.”

He gets up beaming, and he leaves the room.

So often I have to tell people the worst news they’ll ever hear. It’s nice, every once in a while, to be able to give a little bit of hope instead.

It’d be even nicer if it wasn’t just once in a while, but I’ll take what I can get.

Yuri comes to the door and says, “Grace is here; should I send her in?”

“She’s here?”

I told her that I’d walk her down for her first day of the trial, but we were supposed to meet in the lobby.

“Yeah,” I tell Yuri, “send her in.”

Yuri turns and walks out of the room.

A few seconds later, Grace comes in and closes the door behind her. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer. “We’re really doing this.”

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything like that,” she says, “but I don’t know. Do you really think this is a good idea?”

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“You’re having second thoughts?”

“It’s not that,” she says. “It’s just that, well — I’m nervous. I don’t really get nervous, so it’s kind of a big thing for me.”

“Everybody gets nervous,” I tell her. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going to do great.”

“I guess,” she says, “only…”

“Only?”

“I don’t want to lose you as a doctor,” she says. “I mean, the other part of our relationship is pretty great, but you’re still my doctor, and I don’t want to be the reason-”

“Don’t worry about it,” I interrupt. “Nothing’s going to happen except that you’re going to get into that drug trial and we’re going to do everything we possibly can to get you better.”