Part One
Chapter 1
Something on Your Liver
December
It was 6:00 a.m. on Sunday, December 1, 2002. His dark hair tousled, my slender husband, Scott, nudged me awake, saying, Let s go to the emergency room. I want them to give me something to take away this pain. I looked up at him. His handsome features were scrunched up with some agony that had been hurting terribly for the past few days. Last night he d tossed in bed all night. Now, preparing to get up, he sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the heel of his right hand against his right rib cage, attempting to push back that hurt. Later I remembered often seeing this action, long before December.
My fifty-one-year-old husband was concerned about the pain because of a blood clotting condition he d just discovered he had. On a recent long trip to Australia, he had developed a large blood clot and had found that it was due to a hereditary disorder called factor V Leiden. Factor V is a mutation of one of the clotting factors in the blood that can increase the chance of developing abnormal blood clots. It can even cause death.
Hospital personnel were not so ready to dispense either a blood thinner or pain medication. We need to find out what this is before we prescribe something for you, they said. They sent him to have a chest angiography (to check the blood vessels in the chest) and then a CT scan (to check cross-sections of bones as well as soft tissues). Both procedures were more detailed than X-rays.
After a while, the doctor on call came back. Folding his hands behind him, he said, Well, there s good news and bad news. The pain is not caused by a blood clot.
Scott tangibly relaxed over this good news and smiled thinly.
The doctor went on: But there s something on your liver that shouldn t be there.
I caught my breath, and Scott unconsciously leaned backward, our world suddenly collapsed to a small, white-sheeted cubicle. Wasn t the emergency room doctor supposed to wait for the primary care physician or someone else to tell us something unexpected like this? Wasn t there some way to prepare us? This was not at all why we thought we d come. What could it be?
Thus started our four-month quest for a cure for the something on his liver. Early on, during a phone conversation with my daughter-in-law, Lindsey, two phrases popped unbidden into my mind with a sort of flicker that felt like a de ja vu:
Scott will make a choice; once chosen, it will be irrevocable.
Throughout my life, words or ideas occasionally appear in my mind that I know are not of my