OCR Text |
Show 161 "What difference does it make?" I continue. "It'll just break in another few months, then I'll come back here and if he decides to actually do the protocol, he'll kill me with the wrong dye. If I don't let him use that dye, he won't treat me anymore. Or maybe he'll use the dye and nothing will happen but the catheter will just break again in another few months and then I'll be back here again for the whole thing all over again and forever and forever on and on. What difference does it make?" "I overheard him talking this morning about getting a newer, heavier catheter from the company. Has he said anything to you about that?" I am refusing to be comforted. I hate false hope. "Yes," I am conceding that much. "But it won't matter. This catheter has simply fallen from its place as much as it has been broken or kinked. Being stronger won't matter for that." I am rebuffing her consoling words with bitter ones and feeling justified in doing so. Faith is leaving my room but pauses at the door: "I'll talk to him and see if he has made the phone call and ordered the stronger catheter." |