Ken McClure: Hypocrite's Isle

‘I came in the back door. I heard what you said.’

Simmons tried to decipher her expression, but found it uncomfortably neutral.

Caroline was pleased with the way things had been going. She had explained the rationale behind the dual drug therapy to her mother, and made sure that she appreciated that she would not notice any change in her condition until the second drug came into play after the fourteenth day of Valdevan. This meant that everything was on hold for two weeks, but happily this included her mother’s new-found optimism, which Caroline was hoping her father would ascribe to another remission. It was all to come unstuck, however, on the thirteenth day, when Dr John James came into the bedroom and found Caroline giving her mother an injection.

‘Amazing, only two patients at evening surgery,’ he began. ‘Must be something good on the telly... What are you doing?’

Caroline felt the blood drain from her face.

‘She’s giving me some vitamins,’ said her mother, her voice sounding strained and tight.

‘Vitamins? What on earth for?’ John James strode across the room and looked at the box of vials at Caroline’s side. He snatched up one. ‘Valdevan!’ he exclaimed. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, giving your mother this?’

Caroline had never seen her father so angry. ‘We have to talk, Dad.’

‘She’s helping me,’ pleaded her mother, becoming upset.

Although furious, John James could see the effect arguing was going to have on his wife, and fought to control himself. ‘We seem to be at cross-purposes here,’ he said. ‘Caroline’s right, my dear; she and I have to talk.’

Caroline and her father went through to his consulting room, where his anger reignited and he hissed, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, giving your mother that stuff? A useless drug, taken off the market years ago. Do you realise what upsetting the delicate balance of her chemotherapy could do to her?’

‘Mum’s dying, Dad. No delicate balance of her chemotherapy is going to change that, and you’re jumping to conclusions. I’m not doing what you think I’m doing.’

‘I demand an explanation.’

Caroline gave her father a brief synopsis of Gavin’s research and admitted that she had persuaded him to let her try it out on her mother. ‘The results in the lab were spectacular, Dad, really amazing.’

‘So good you are using your own mother as a guinea pig!’

‘There’s a real chance it will work, and that has to be better than no chance at all, don’t you think?’

‘If there was any chance this nonsense would work it would be all over the medical journals. This is just cruel, heartless rubbish that has given your mother false hope. How could you?’

‘You don’t understand, Dad. Believe me, you don’t understand the half of it,’ pleaded Caroline.

‘I’ve a good mind to report you and this damned boyfriend of yours to the relevant authorities, and let you both take the consequences. Who is his head of department?’

‘Mum asked me to help her...’

‘Don’t pretend your mother forced you into this.’

‘You don’t understand. She asked me to help her die.’

There was a silence in the room that both of them found almost unbearable.

‘I don’t believe you,’ said John James hoarsely.

‘She asked me to help her because she felt she couldn’t ask you...’ said Caroline flatly, knowing the hurt she was causing, but feeling that she had to fight back. ‘She knew you wouldn’t consider it because it isn’t allowed .’ She paused to let the words and the cruel inflection she’d put on them sink in. ‘I thought that persuading Gavin to try out the new therapy would be a better option because... I couldn’t face doing what she wanted me to, and when all’s said and done... Mum has nothing to lose, has she?’

John James’ anger disappeared, and tears started to run down his cheeks. Caroline wanted to put her arms round him but found she couldn’t.

‘What stage are you at?’ croaked James.

‘We’re about to start the second drug tomorrow. She’s already had fourteen days on Valdevan...’

‘I didn’t realise your mother felt like that. She never said anything to me... nothing at all.’

‘Mum knows you love her and would always do your best for her, Dad. There’s no question about that. I just hope that you might come to realise that the same applies to me...’

Both Caroline and her father were in tears as they embraced each other.

‘Well, where do we go from here?’ asked Caroline, wiping her eyes and giving a final sniff as a sign that she was back in control.

‘We go back and tell your mother how much we both love her, and that you will be carrying on with the new therapy. To do anything else at this stage would be unthinkable.’ John James seemed to take a few moments to consider before saying, ‘Damn this bloody awful disease. Damn it to hell.’

‘Let’s tell Mum.’

John James paused as they reached the door. ‘This Gavin of yours, he sounds like a remarkable chap.’

‘I think so.’

‘The university must be very proud. You must tell me all about him.’

‘Later, Dad.’

Caroline heard the sharp intake of breath when she told Gavin that her dad had found out what they were doing. ‘But it’s all right. We had a long heart-to-heart and it’s all right, really it is.’

‘If you say so,’ said Gavin, finding this hard to believe, but keen to latch on to any good news that was going.

‘I’m going to go ahead with the change of drug tomorrow as planned. She’s due a scan at the hospital in four days time, on Friday. What should we do about that?’

‘Let it go ahead.’

‘Do you think there will be any change by then?’

‘If it works, there should be a dramatic change. If it doesn’t, then nothing.’

‘No in-betweens?’

‘No.’

‘Sounds like Friday’s going to be a pretty big day for all of us.’

‘Yep.’

‘You sound low. Did you sort things out with Frank?’

‘Frank doesn’t have the authority to endorse the paper. He’s given up his position.’

‘Why?’ asked a stunned Caroline.

‘Because the suits blackmailed him into it.’

‘Gavin, I’m so sorry.’

‘I’ll think of something.’

On Friday, Caroline called Gavin as soon as she got back from the hospital. ‘You’re not going to believe this!’ she practically screamed down the phone. ‘There has been a thirty per cent reduction in the size of Mum’s tumour. Thirty per cent!’

‘Brilliant!’

‘It works, Gavin, it works! The staff at the hospital were amazed. They just couldn’t think of an explanation, and I nearly couldn’t keep a straight face. Coming home in the car was just like the old days when I was young and we were coming back from a day at the zoo or the beach; the three of us were laughing and talking.’

‘I’m really glad, Carrie.’

‘So what do we do, more of the same?’

‘It’s important she keeps taking the polymyxin. When is she due to go back to the hospital?’

‘They want to do another scan next week, just to make sure it’s not some kind of weird mistake.’

‘Good. That should tell us what we need to know. The reduction should be greater, but maybe not as big as this week’s.’

‘Forty-eight per cent, Gavin! A forty-eight per cent reduction in the size of the tumour: almost half of it has been destroyed in two weeks! Can you believe it? Oh, my God, I wish we could tell someone.’

‘But we can’t,’ said Gavin. ‘They’d still hang us out to dry and attribute your mother’s recovery to some kind of placebo effect.’

‘So, we just keep on?’