Page 37 of Dr. Brandt

“Dr. Brandt mentioned that if we wait too long, there’s a chance he won’t recover as expected?”

“Correct,” she answered. “Jackson is sixteen, and that really is the maximum age that this surgery will be performed. After that, there are more risks, and the percentages of excellent recoveries start to go down.”

“Funny, Cam didn’t mention that when he insisted this surgery was the only answer.”

I was irritated again, but I knew it was just a flood of emotions taking over me. Still, Cameron could’ve been a little more forthcoming with information like that.

“Dr. Brandt most likely knew that if he were, you would never have spoken to Lisa or given this a shot.” A curious expression crossed her face, “Do you call him Cam?”

I nodded. “We went to college together.”

“Oh, nice. That makes sense. That guy has a knack for getting into your head before you even know what’s happening.”

“I take it you’ve dated, then?”

Jesus Christ! Shut up! I thought, feeling like an idiot for blurting that out.

“Oh, no. No,” she said with another laugh. “Though he is easy on the eyes, our relationship is very platonic.” She arched a playful eyebrow at me, most likely feeling sorry for me and adjusting her bedside manner to accommodate my stupid and immature comment. “Besides, he’s made it clear to nearly everyone at this hospital that he will not date anyone here.”

“Oh, wow. Well, I guess that makes him a bit of a stand-up guy. I always imagined that the good-looking doctors get to have all the fun.”

I stopped and shut the fuck up. What the hell was wrong with me?

“No, Dr. Brandt is most certainly not like those hot doctors you watch on those drama shows on television,” she laughed.

“I appreciate what you’ve said today. I mean, before this weird sidebar about Dr. Brandt,” I admitted.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said with a reassuring smile. “We’re all here for you and Jackson. You need to understand that.”

“I think I do,” feeling my nerves unwind for the first time since walking out here. “It’s going to take a bit, though, to process this.”

“We expect it would. The best part is that you both came today, taking the first step in the journey to learn more about the surgery and knowing that Jackson is not alone.”

“Yes,” I said, returning my attention to the pond.

I was going to be okay. Jackson would be okay too. I had to accept that and overcome these fears, and that would take time.

Chapter Eighteen

Cam

Being called in for Jonah Williams’ emergency surgery was not what I’d expected when I woke up this morning. Calling the time of death on a patient is something we are trained to separate ourselves from emotionally. I dealt with the loss of patients in numerous ways, mainly by moving on to the next. Focusing on death never helped the next patient in my line of work, and I had to focus on the next patient because the reality that a child was gone would be too painful otherwise.

Dr. Novant requested my assistance in an urgent situation once he realized his surgery was not going as expected. This didn’t happen often, but we knew there was a seventy percent chance young Jonah wouldn’t survive this surgery, which was a contributing factor to why I disagreed with Dr. Novant’s decision to move forward. However, despite my opinion, Dr. Novant was confident about the procedure, as were the medical teams.

A good surgeon shouldn’t have considered surgery as their first or second answer. This case was different from most, though, and I understood why Dr. Novant wanted to go in and remove the malignant tumor. The patient’s life expectancy was not good, and surgery was the answer to hopefully giving the young boy a chance at life. It crushed me that there were no other options because I knew we would find them if we took the time to look.

Jonah’s parents would’ve agreed with me, but their journey to get to this point had been burdensome, and I knew they were running swiftly out of options. So, considering the boy’s family and, more importantly, reviewing the findings in Jonah’s MRIs and scans, I understood why Novant cut. It’s also why he pulled me to the side and requested I be on standby in case the surgery got away from him.

Through our protocols at St. John’s, I was placed on standby, so if the worst-case scenario happened, I’d be called in to assist, hoping for a miracle. But now, here I was, seven hours after calling the time of death, thinking about how precious and fragile our lives were. I could say that Jonah was no longer suffering, and no one would know that was true more than his parents. But that wouldn’t take away the pain of his loss. Nothing would ever take it away. And nothing I could say would bring any relief or comfort to his family. The loss of a child would never be anything but tragic.

When my sister died, I saw what it did to my parents. My parents stayed together, but they were completely disconnected. My father dove into his work, building an empire that threatened to put Mitchell and Associates out of business, and my mother self-medicated. They managed to keep up appearances in their social circles, but their grief hung heavy in our home until the day they died.

I got into this line of work to do what I could to keep families away from experiencing that level of anguish. I didn’t want anyone to know what it was like to feel like they were drowning in despair, but, to my greatest disappointment, I couldn’t save everyone.

I sat in this empty operating room, thinking about my son and how he was suffering from the same epileptic condition that took my sister.

I had to help Jacks, even if only because he’d inherited his genetic disorder from my family. There was so much more to it than that, though. Time was of the essence. I was taking risks by allowing the decision-making process to drag on and on, and Jackson didn’t have that kind of time. His brain was nearing its maturity, and if I disconnected his left hemisphere, the right might not learn to adapt and take over the left’s functions.

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