William Kienzle - The Greatest Evil

Everyone looked at this young woman still in high school. No doubt about it, she would become a force to be reckoned with.

“Doctor”-she turned to Schmidt-“you said it was possible- possible -that radiation might help contain or even put a cancer in remission. Does that include pancreatic cancer?”

The doctor slowly shook his head.

Lucy turned to face the others. “Tony … Father …” Her tone turned apologetic as if she should not dare correct a priest. “Think of what you’re recommending. This has hit us like a ton of lead. We can’t just pop off. We’re grasping at a straw that’s not attached to anything. With this therapy we’re condemning Mama to months of added sickness and pain while the statistics tell us it’s all for nothing.”

“I know,” Koesler said, “that I’m not a member of this family-”

“You might just as well be,” Lucy interjected.

“Thanks.” Koesler nodded. “I don’t really feel I’m entitled to a vote. But … on thinking it over, I have to agree with Lucy. She’s focusing on quality of life …” He hesitated, then said firmly, “Louise, depending on how important it is to you, this radiation doesn’t promise you much of any quality of life.”

“Wait a minute!” Tony’s tone was challenging. “We can’t give up! If Ma doesn’t get this treatment, it’s … curtains. She’ll be dead! That’s for sure, isn’t it, Doc?”

“I’m afraid so,” Schmidt said.

“Well, maybe I haven’t been around as long as some of you people,” Tony said, “but I’ve learned one thing: If you don’t compete you can’t win. If Ma doesn’t take the treatment, she isn’t competing … she hasn’t got a chance!”

Lucy looked at the doctor. “Please … be very realistic. We aren’t asking you to play God. But you know more about this than we do. You’ve had experience with pancreatic cancer when the patient chose radiation. What’s it like?”

“Pretty much as you’ve already said. Especially with cancer of the pancreas, which is inoperable-which is what your mother has. Radiation may retard the disease somewhat. But in the end …

“What you and the good father have said is the situation as I have observed it. The effects of the radiation add to the discomfort and pain-so much so that there is not much of any quality of life.”

“So where does that leave us?” Tony did not attempt to hide his bitterness. “We’re going to give up? Give up without a fight?”

“Tony,” the doctor said in as conciliatory a tone as possible, “this may be difficult for you to understand, with your youth and your strong, athletic body. But,” he said very deliberately, “there are worse things in life than death.”

Tony snorted.

“Unless …” Vincent had been silent so long the others had virtually forgotten his presence. “Unless there is a miracle.”

Silence.

“I know you’re going to get ordained soon,” Tony said after a moment, “but that’s crazy.”

“Miracles don’t happen to ordinary people like us,” Lucy said, as she looked from face to face. “Do they?”

Dr. Schmidt, now clearly out of his league, become a spectator at an event he had heretofore been directing.

“Vinnie,” Koesler said, “isn’t what you’re proposing a deus ex machina?”

“A what?” Lucy asked.

“We can’t find a rational acceptable solution to this problem of illness,” Koesler explained, “so we drag God in from left field to solve the situation for us.”

Vincent bristled. “I’m not suggesting that we pull God out of a hat. I’m suggesting that we dedicate ourselves to prayer for a cure for our mother. And I’m hoping that we’ll enlist the prayers of everyone we know. Prayer, Father Koesler, is not a deus ex machina!”

For the second time during this meeting, Koesler felt as if he had spoken too hastily. “Of course. It goes without saying that we’ll pray. Each of us.” Even as he said it, he wondered: What about Tony? Would Tony-who could not envision a body that would not fight for health … for life-participate in this group prayer?

“But,” Koesler added, “prayer is one thing. A miracle is something else again.”

“How can you say that, Bob?” Vincent seemed bewildered that he needed to explain this to a priest-a priest in whom Vinnie had confidence. “The Gospels are packed with the marvels possible through prayer. The mustard seed, teaching the disciples to pray-the examples go on forever. The one necessary ingredient is faith. Faith won cures. Faith won even a return from death to life. Faith won miracles. That’s what I’m proposing: prayer backed by faith in a miracle.

“I’m pleading with all of you to pray for a miracle because … because it’s our only hope.” Vincent seemed closed to tears.

“I’m with you, Vinnie,” Lucy said. “I’m going to start today, and by tomorrow everybody in St. William’s will be praying for our miracle.”

“And”-Koesler volunteered his parish-”at St. Norbert’s.”

Actually, Lucy found the notion well beyond her capacity of faith. But at least outwardly she joined forces with Vincent and the priest because it offered an alternative to radiation or death, which, until the potential miracle, had been the only choice on the table.

“We seem to have left someone out,” Dr. Schmidt said softly. He turned, as did everyone else, to look at Louise.

She did not attempt to control her tears, which flowed from a mixture of fear and love. “I am so lucky to have such a family and friends.” She tried to smile through her tears. “I want Vincent to have his miracle.”

Everyone seemed bolstered by, or at least satisfied with, her decision-with the very clear exception of Tony.

“It’s mid-February now,” Vincent said, “and Lent has just begun. Easter won’t be here until March twenty-ninth. We have a month and a half before Easter. What a marvelous feast to celebrate the miracle of life.”

“Now you’re putting a deadline on your miracle?” Actually Tony was trying to go along with the invocation, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“No deadline, Tony,” Vincent said. “Just that we’ll be celebrating the epic feast of the Resurrection. It should inspire everyone we enlist to pray for our cause.”

“All right now,” Dr. Schmidt said after the discussion seemed at an end, “but before I leave, there are some practical matters that must be addressed. For instance, Louise, you can expect to be up and around, though not as comfortable as you’re used to being.

“In time, short of the miracle”-the doctor tipped his head toward Vincent-“you will need more help. If we’re talking of a visiting nurse, a practical nurse, someone in the family who has a nursing background …?”

“I’ll ask the seminary for a leave of absence,” Vincent said immediately. “I’m sure they’ll grant it.”

“But, baby, what will that do to your ordination?” Louise protested. “It’s less than four months from now.”

“We can talk about that. If it has to be postponed, well, then, so be it.”

“Vinnie, I have lived for that day ever since you went away to the seminary twelve years ago. What if I haven’t got a lot of time? I can’t take a chance on not being here for your ordination and first Mass. It can’t be postponed … it can’t!”

“All right, Ma, all right. Don’t worry,” he soothed. “But I’ll talk to the rector anyway. I’m sure he’ll let me come home at least once a week.”

“I’m almost positive that kind of arrangement can be worked out.” Koesler was well aware that the seminary faculty appreciated Vincent’s talent and gifts. Even though the request would be out of the ordinary Koesler was certain it would be granted.