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“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”
“Abby...” Dr. Stevens held his hands open in surrender. “I know you love Gen. Believe me; I know it. But you need to think about what’s best for her. You need to listen to all your options before you make any decisions.”
Abby paused, closed her eyes, nodded. “Sorry.”
“I know this is difficult to hear.”
“No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. We can do chemo independently of the trial. It would mean weekly shots for sixteen to twenty weeks. Radiation therapy has also had good outcomes, but we don’t do it here. I could refer you to a veterinarian oncologist with the proper facilities if you wanted to go that route. Or, if you went with the trial, it’s possible they would recommend some kind of additional combination treatments.”
Abby nodded.It’s a case study. Find the symptoms, treat the cause. It’s not Gen; it’s just a case study.
“Chemo in dogs isn’t as bad as it is in humans, but it can cause vomiting and diarrhea. Given it’s already her intestines that are most affected and she’s showing signs of malnutrition and weakness, that is a concern, but I think this is still the best option, regardless of what you choose to do otherwise.
“As for cost, I can print you an estimate. The chemo alone would probably be around four thousand dollars. The radiation, I couldn’t really tell you. If you were accepted into the trial, it would be cost-free, but, again, you could end up in the control group. At least the chemo would be covered, though, even if she didn’t end up getting the T-cell injections.” He paused. “I know it’s a lot to take in. There are a lot of options and decisions. Do you have any questions?”
Abby choked on a bitter laugh. How often had she heard a doctor give this exact spiel? A cancer doctor. The universe had a cruel sense of humor, to put her in this position. “Are there any other options?”
“You could take her home.”
Abby couldn’t help the sob that escaped her.
“You could love her like crazy, visit some kids, let her eat cheeseburgers and all the junk we always tell owners never to allow their dogs. You could have this time with her, and, when you’re ready, you come back. You take this time to give her a good life. To say goodbye.”
Abby gritted her teeth, turned her face away. “I can’t...”
She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Dr. Stevens nodded. “It’s okay. You can think about it. Call me tomorrow and let me know what you want, you can either pick Gen up then, or we can start treatment, and she can go home the next day. In the meantime,” he tipped his head toward the tech at his side. “Jenny can take you back to visit her.”
“Thank you.”
Scott scrubbed the towel through his hair and debated texting Abby.
From the next cubicle, as if he could read Scott’s mind, Finn asked, “Has Abby called, yet?”
“Not yet.”
“How long you gonna wait?”
Scott pulled an undershirt over his head, voice muffled in the fabric. “I asked her to let me know. She said she would.”
To be honest, it stung she hadn’t called sooner, either when Liam had died, or when Gen had gotten sick. And now the afternoon had almost passed and still nothing. Did she remember Dylan had a concert tonight?
He mentally kicked himself.
He wasn’t being fair; she’d been through hell this week. If she missed it, he would simply have to explain what had happened to Dylan. Still, a small seed of anger burned, and he didn’t know how to stamp it out.
“What if she doesn’t?”
“She will,” he snarled, angry at his best friend for putting words to the niggling worry he couldn’t suppress.
Finn held up both hands. “Okay, man.”
Scott shook his head. “Sorry.”
“No worries. Have you told Dylan?”