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ROBIN PASSED HER PATIENT a cup of apple juice. “Here you go, Mrs. Kerwood.”
She held the cup steady while the woman reached for it with both hands, one bearing an IV catheter on the back. Grasping the cup, Mrs. Kerwood swallowed deeply, thirsty after fasting for a breast cancer biopsy performed under light sedation.
“More juice?” Robin asked when she’d drained her cup.
“Please. How long until we know?” She handed the empty cup back to Robin. They shared the hope that her biopsy specimen would yield a genetic correspondence to one of the MATCH targeted drugs.
“About ten days. I’ll call you as soon as we hear from the lab.” Robin patted the hand without the IV and went to get more juice.
To the casual observer, day one of the MATCH program might be any Monday in the oncology unit. Patients arrived, completed their paperwork, and were evaluated and treated. But today, some, like Mrs. Kerwood, were part of the new research protocol. Seventeen subjects were already on board for MATCH screening—a good start, in Robin’s opinion. They came from Mountainview, other local hospitals, and community cancer support groups where she’d pitched the program. New referrals arrived daily, intractable cancers awaiting a genetically keyed miracle drug. Robin marveled at being a part of it.
She rechecked Mrs. Kerwood’s vital signs and cleared her for discharge. An aide summoned Mrs. Kerwood’s husband from the waiting room, and Robin reviewed their post-op instructions before sending them home.
The rest of her morning passed swiftly. Although busy, Robin couldn’t help thinking about Gloria Reyes. Ben had been on target. She’d found it difficult to refuse the mother’s request for help. A couple of days removed from their encounter in DC, Robin felt troubled that Gloria’s son had to wait for the kind of hope she offered her adult patients. At the briefing, Will had urged her to focus on the big picture, the macro perspective of research. But as a nurse and clinician first and foremost, Robin found investment in the project from seeing that light in her patients’ eyes at the prospect of a cure.
With the time already past one thirty, Robin caught a break and pulled her sandwich from the staff lounge fridge. She brewed a cup of coffee, exchanged pleasantries with one of the aides, and settled at the lunch table with her tuna salad.
“It’s about time I caught up with you, Robin.” Dr. Steve Richman, Chief of Medical Oncology and Primary Investigator for the MATCH study, took a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator and joined her at the table. Tall and broad, he’d played some college football and maybe still could despite his weathered face and steel-gray hair. “How was the briefing?”
Robin finished the bite of her sandwich. “Good. From what they presented, I’d say our protocols are spot on.” She gave him a thumbs-up. “Off and running.”
After swigging half the contents of his water bottle during Robin’s brief update, Steve nodded. “Excellent. Any new referrals today?”
“Two this morning.”
“Awesome.” He thumped the tabletop with his fist. “Anything to report from the briefing?”
“A few things we can go over in the staff meeting.” Robin looked at the coffee cup on the table in front of her, remembering Gloria Reyes sitting across from her in the hotel coffee shop. On impulse, she asked, “Steve, would you consider including a pediatric medulloblastoma patient in our sample?”
His salt-and-pepper eyebrows shot up. “You know the study parameters, Robin. Subjects eighteen and over. Why would we deviate from that?” His chief surgeon’s tone hectored her.
“No reason,” Robin backpedaled. “I met a woman in Washington, in New Jersey, really. I wanted to help a friend of a friend.” She regretted asking.
His blue eyes narrowed. “I made you my study coordinator because of your competence, Robin, your professionalism. Don’t turn all bleeding heart on me.”
“I won’t.” Her face warmed.
“Good. I’ll expect your report at the staff meeting.” Richman stood and tossed his empty water bottle into the trash.
“Yes, Dr. Richman,” Robin said as he walked out.
Idiot, she rebuked herself. Of course he’d refused to include Alex Reyes in the study, and rightly so. They had to follow protocol. As Will had said, drug trials were too important, the dangers too great, to risk shortcuts. She’d allowed Gloria to take up residence in her head, clouding her professional judgment. But no more. Gloria Reyes would simply have to find another solution.
Robin finished her sandwich, dumped the last of her coffee into the sink, and got back to work. It wouldn’t do to keep her patients waiting.