January 17th 2011 – Trip to New York

Tom had been told they could have had any three seats on the plane. All of them could have turned left, but he didn’t want to. He’d asked for their seats to be close together. Felt it was important. They were a family now. Besides he needed to stay close to Chloe to make sure she was OK on the plane. She had a visceral fear of flying.

The flight had been smooth. The seatbelt signs came on, and they began their descent. Tom looked across at Chloe. They both looked at Eve. She was asleep. She’d been doing that a lot recently. She looked frailer than ever.

A wheelchair was waiting for them as they disembarked. They went through customs and managed to get their luggage and themselves into a waiting yellow cab outside the airport. It was no trouble carrying Eve. She had lost so much weight that there was almost nothing of her. Lighter than a feather.

“Crowne Plaza please. 49th and Broadway.”

His voice sounded confident, but Tom felt more than a little lost. He might have been to Afghanistan, but that was with the support of the British Army. Everything taken care of. No need to worry about transfers from airports to hotels. Chloe applied gentle pressure to his hand. It was a reminder that he needed to take care of her, no matter what happened to their daughter.

In actual fact, they were not on their own. True to her word, the Culture Minister was doing everything within her power to help them out.

The cab pulled up on Broadway, just outside the hotel, and Tom fumbled in his pocket for the unfamiliar money with which to pay. He picked up Eve and Chloe carried their two battered cases. They entered into the hotel entrance and took the elevator up to the lobby floor. Tom looked around, a little awestruck. Now what?

A smart looking man approached them. He was all grey suit, red tie, shiny black shoes and shiny black hair. He held out his hand that Tom shook appreciatively.

“Neil Klosinski. The consulate sent me.”

The accent was pure New York. But evidently their welcoming party was representing the British government.

“I believe time is of the essence here. You’re already checked in. Leave the bags here and I’ll get the bellman to take care of them. Meanwhile you three just follow me.”

Within two minutes, they’d returned to street level and were in the back of a black town car, which had been waiting for them at the rear of the hotel. The man from the consulate explained what was going to happen next.

“As soon as we get to the clinic I’ll introduce you to Doctor Gottlieb. He’s in charge of the Neuroblastoma treatment program over there. He’ll give you the lowdown on what’s going to happen over the next week.”

It was a short journey, through the midtown traffic and up the side of Central Park to their destination on East 63rd street. When they got there, the program leader was waiting for them in the foyer. A nurse in blue scrubs was standing by his side, holding the back of a child-sized wheelchair. The doctor addressed Tom, who was in front as the four entered through the huge glass doors. He was carrying his daughter protectively in his arms.

“Welcome to the hospital, Sir. It’s always an honour to meet a serving member of our armed forces.”

Well, Tom thought, he guessed he was certainly on the Americans’ side, if not exactly a member of their armed forces. The nurse had taken charge of Eve. His daughter was already in the wheelchair and being rolled across to the bank of elevators. The doctor continued.

“We already have a room prepared for our little patient. May I suggest your wife accompanies her to get settled in. I’ll take you up to my office, where I can explain the treatment plan we offer.”

In spite of the circumstances, Tom saw Chloe give a tiny smile at the word wife. He nodded to the consultant, who turned to show him the way. Limping deliberately after him, something a little incongruent struck the corner of Tom’s eye.

There was a man standing in the corner of the building lobby. He was on his own, looking across at Tom’s group. Well sort of staring really. A bit of a glassy stare that Tom found a bit disturbing. The man was dressed in black, and it gave him a strangely ominous appearance. Looked a bit like the crows Tom was used to seeing perched on the trees back home. Actually his appearance was more like a magpie, because there was something white around his neck. It was a dog collar.

Thirty minutes later, Tom was seated in Dr Gottlieb’s office, high above the Manhattan streets. He was seated on a chair against one wall of the room. There was a coffee table in front of him loaded with glossy magazines. On the other side was a long leather couch. Perched on it were three men. Dr Gottlieb in the centre, flanked by two other men in scrubs. The doctor was explaining the situation to him.

“Please let me introduce my colleagues to you. Dr Ng. Dr McCarthy.”

He indicated each of the men in turn as he introduced them. Tom smiled and nodded.

“Sorry to outnumber you. But all three of us are going to help in your little girl’s treatment. I am in charge of the clinic overall. It’s my job to make sure you’re getting access to all the right medical personnel. If you’re uncomfortable with anything during your stay, or there is anything you don’t understand you just need to get into contact with me. Dr Ng is in charge of our scanning unit. After the treatment he will be monitoring the progress of the tumour. And last Dr McCarthy, the man in charge of our immunotherapy program. Perhaps he can explain a little about how the treatment works.”

Dr McCarthy smiled and bent forward, trying to give an air of intimacy. A small frown of concentration etched across his forehead. He’d been through this little speech more than a hundred times to worried parents.

“The idea of immunotherapy is to stimulate the body’s immune system to try and target a substance which is present on the outside of the cancer cells. When we trialled this, we found a much better success rate than using chemotherapy alone. And we know from your daughter’s records that just chemotherapy isn’t going to do it for her.”

Tom wasn’t really interested in how the treatment worked. He just cared about the outcome. He sat back in his chair and blew out a sigh. He gazed at the men on the couch. He knew from the man at the consulate that these were some of the best medical guys in the US. If these three men couldn’t bring his daughter the gift of life, then he guessed no one could.