“Is she—Is she going to be all right?” The doctor hesitated.
We had one of our cardiologists examine her. She has a ruptured cord in her mitral valve.
“What does that mean?” David demanded. “I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for her.”
“She's too weak to have a transplant, and mini heart surgery is new and too risky.”
David felt suddenly faint. “How—how long can she—?” “I'd say a few more days, maybe a week. I'm sorry, son.”
David stood there, panicky. “Isn't there anyone who can help her?”
“I'm afraid not. The only one who might have been able to help is Steven Patterson, but he's a very—”
“Who's Steven Patterson?” “Dr. Patterson pioneered minimally invasive heart surgery.”
“But between his schedule and his research, there's no chance that—” David was gone.
He called Dr. Patterson's office from a pay phone in the hospital corridor.
I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Patterson. It's for my mother. She—
I'm sorry. We're not accepting any new appointments. The first available time would be six months from now.
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