Marcus’s heart went out to her. If Trent had what he thought he had, he was going to need much more than vitamins. ‘Let’s just get the blood results first and then we’ll talk about how to treat it,’ he said gently.
Marcus saw fear flit through Jenny’s eyes as it started to dawn on her that there might be something seriously wrong with her son.
‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ she said. ‘I need to know what you’re thinking.’
Marcus wavered for a moment. This was always the difficult part. To share his suspicions before they were confirmed to prepare her a little or to keep mum until he knew for sure and completely knock the wind out of her.
‘There are lots of things that can cause anaemia,’ he prevaricated.
‘Yes, but what do you think it is?’ she insisted.
He looked at her worried eyes and the way she was clutching her now sleeping son to her chest and knew that people always preferred honesty. Marcus sighed. ‘I’m concerned that Trent may have leukaemia.’ He ploughed on through her shocked gasp. ‘But I can’t be sure until the results are back.’
‘Leukaemia? But he’ll die,’ she said frantically.
Marcus felt the panic roll off her in a tangible wave. Who could blame her? How would he feel if someone was telling him that Connor had leukaemia?
Fun-loving, skateboard-riding, daredevil Connor?
‘Please, don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves here. Let’s get the tests done and go from there. If he has it then we’ll admit him straight to hospital and he can begin his treatment immediately. There is a very good cure rate, Jenny.’
She nodded. ‘Will he need chemotherapy?’
‘That is the treatment.’
‘What about natural therapies? I’ve heard enough stories about chemo to know that it’s not very nice.’
‘No. It can have some awful side-effects,’ Marcus agreed, ‘but it’s the only course of action I would recommend.’ Marcus knew that there were complementary methods employed by some alternative medicine practitioners to treat cancers, but the medical doctor in him never took any chances with cancer.
‘Oh, God,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
Marcus smiled sympathetically, a sudden horrible vision of Connor limp and pale keeping it real for him. ‘As I said, let’s just take this one step at a time. OK? Blood tests first. Then in two hours I want you to go next door, to Dr Madeline Harrington. I’m going to get the lab to phone the results through to her. I’m referring Trent’s case to her.’
‘But I want you,’ she said.
Marcus could see Jenny was trying really hard to hold it together. ‘I’ll be there, too, I promise, but as I specialise in natural therapies I think it’s more appropriate for you to have a traditional GP to take over Trent’s case.’
Jenny stood, barely disturbing Trent. ‘Right. Okay. Right. I’ll go, then.’
Marcus led her out gently. She looked totally frozen, like she was registering nothing in her brain other than the words ‘childhood leukaemia’ in big tall letters. He helped her buckle Trent into his booster seat and handed her the car keys. ‘Drive carefully,’ he told her, and waited until she looked at him and nodded.
Marcus sat back down at his desk. He wished he felt more positive about Trent’s chances. But he’d seen this presentation a little too often to doubt himself.
He dialled Maddy’s number and she said, ‘Well, hello,’ as she picked up.
Marcus’s lips lifted into a slight smile as her voice curled into his ear. ‘Hello to you, too,’ he said softly.
Ordinarily he’d ask her something outrageous like what she was wearing and laugh when she acted all prim and proper in front of a client. But today, despite the delicious lurch of his stomach when he’d heard her voice, he just wasn’t in the mood.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
He could hear the smile in her voice and pictured her holding the phone, her lips against the receiver.
‘Business, I’m afraid. Can you clear a space in your schedule for two hours’ time? I have a six-year-old boy that I suspect has leukaemia. His mother is getting his bloods done now.’
Madeline squeezed her eyes shut briefly, her heart going out to the anonymous little boy. ‘Are you okay’ she asked, knowing that imparting news such as this also took it out of a practitioner. Knowing how close he was to his six-year-old nephew, cases like these could be a little too close for comfort.
Her low voice tinged with empathy was soothing. On days like this Marcus wished he wasn’t at work. That he was home in bed with her and she was whispering scandalous things in his ear instead.
He sighed. ‘Yep. Can you swing it?’
Madeline looked at her appointments. She’d swing it somehow. ‘Sure. You coming, too?’
‘Yep.’
‘All right. I have a patient. I’d better go. I’ll see you then.’
***
Two hours later Marcus walked into the surgery, past a grinning Veronica and straight into Madeline’s office and directly into her open arms. It felt good to be there.
She felt good.
‘What are the results?’ he asked, pulling back reluctantly.
‘White cells astronomical. Critically low platelets and red cells.’
‘A.L.L.,’ he said despondently.
She nodded. ‘Fill me in.’
Marcus went over Trent’s case for a few minutes. Then the intercom buzzed. ‘Jenny and Trent Smith are here,’ Veronica announced.
‘I’ll bring them through,’ he said.
Marcus made the introductions and sat himself on the edge of Madeline’s desk. ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. The blood tests have confirmed it. Trent has A.L.L — acute lymphoblastic leukaemia.’
There was silence as they watched the confirmation slowly sink into Jenny’s head. She looked at them with tears in her eyes. ‘What is that, exactly?’
‘A.L.L is a cancer of the bone marrow,’ Madeline said, stepping in. ‘Something goes wrong, we don’t know what, that causes an overproduction of immature white blood cells. These crowd the bone marrow, preventing it from making normal cells, like red cells, which is why he’s so pale, and platelets, which is why he has bruises everywhere.’
Jenny hugged a listless Trent to her and rocked him, a
