We Own the Sky(72)
“And can you tell me exactly what treatments he’s received?”
“Well, as I said on the phone, he’s had two rounds of immuno-engineering.”
Anna held her head in her hands. “I still can’t believe this, Rob. How could you even do this?”
“But he’s responding really well,” I said. “Much better than with chemo.
There are no side effects, none at all.”
“So are you a doctor now? Who even knows what he’s being given.”
I took a deep breath. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere, is it? Again, I’m sorry for taking him, for lying to you. But I just didn’t see any other way and you refuse to discuss it.”
“Refuse to discuss it? We have had endless—endless—conversations about
the clinic. We talk about it all the time. In fact, it’s all you want to talk about.
You’re obsessed.”
“Right, I’m obsessed.” I went over to the sideboard and poured myself some whiskey I had bought in the duty-free shop. Anna eyed the glass and then looked away. “As I said, we think differently. I was desperate, and I’m doing what I think is right for my son.”
“Oh, please don’t even begin to try to make me feel sorry for you, after what you’ve done. All this desperate Dad stuff. Because everything, Rob, everything you’re going through I’m going through, as well,” she said through clenched teeth. “Do you think I wanted to leave Jack and look after my mother? Can you imagine how that made me feel, having to leave him like that? My little boy.”
“All I am asking, Anna—and I am begging you—is please come and meet Dr.
Sladkovsky. He said there might be a chance to cure Jack. They’ve seen good results with other kids with glioblastoma.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did.”
“Anna, it wasn’t like that, believe me,” I said. “Really. He said many kids with glioblastoma had died under his care, as well.”
My voice cracked and I let out a sob of frustration, like the grossest injustice of childhood: not being believed when telling the truth. “He’s not some miracle worker, Anna, he just said he could give Jack a chance.”
“Well, yes, that’s what he always says.”
“What he always says? What does that even mean?”
“Rob, it’s everywhere, all over the internet. There are whole forums devoted to Sladkovsky’s clinic. Did you not read any of them, or did you just read all those glowing testimonies?”
Anna reached into her small carry-on suitcase and pulled out a folder. “Just in case you don’t believe me, I brought these for you.”
Anna handed me some printouts from a website called The Other Sladkovsky Patients. I flicked through, without really reading them. “Is this supposed to convince me? A few printouts from a lame WordPress site.”
“Are you not going to even read them? You’ll read everything on the web
about Sladkovsky’s. You bombard me for weeks with all this stuff, and then I show you something that might not fit your story, and you don’t want to listen.”
I sat down on the sofa and began to read some of the patient testimonies. The website seemed familiar, and I was sure that I had come across it before. Natalia P, Peter R, Amy T—children with vaguely Germanic or Austro-Hungarian names.
Their stories started the same way, a familiar narrative, one that I’d read many times before: a devastating prognosis with all treatment options exhausted. But these children didn’t get better under Dr. Sladkovsky’s care. The tumors grew back, faster, more aggressive than before, and thousands of pounds or dollars in the red, they went home to watch their children die.
“So what?” I said, dumping the papers on the sofa. “I think I’ve seen it
already. It doesn’t mean anything. Sladkovsky has repeatedly said that not everyone responds to immuno-engineering. Some do and some don’t, and he doesn’t claim to know why. He’s been completely up front about that from the beginning. God, it’s even on the liability form you have to sign. It didn’t work with these kids, I get that and I’m sorry for them, for their parents, but it does work with other kids.”
“Right. Josh.”
Anna rummaged through her bag, looking for something else.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I have my doubts that it worked with Josh.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “What are you...”
“Here,” Anna said, thrusting more printouts into my hand. “It’s from Hope’s Place. You probably never read this.”
Nev
by Chemoforlifer? Fri Oct 19, 2012 6:03 am
To all members of the forum:
Many of you on Hope’s Place will no doubt have seen my occasional disagreements with Nev. In light of that, I wanted to share something with you all, an email I received from a member of the forum, who wishes to remain anonymous.
Hello Chemoforlifer, I was just browsing the forum and saw
something I thought was a little strange concerning one of
the members, Nev. As I think you know, near the end of