Raymond’s operation had finally been scheduled on Mr Moseby’s list, for the morning after Ed Squire’s murder, as it transpired. It had been pushed back after weeks of discussion. That is to say, George’s discussion and research. Raymond knew the path to the operating table was not going to be an easy one with George involved, and so it had proved, right from the first meeting with Moseby and George. But Raymond, always positive by nature, was actually looking forward to it. When he discovered it would be laparoscopic, he secretly hoped it might be performed by a robot. His only regret, if that was indeed the case, was that he would be asleep for the entire procedure.
George had done extensive research into carcinoid tumours of the lung. So much so, that this first meeting with the consultant oncologist became more like a police interview with a suspect than a medical consultation. George repetitively pressed the poor doctor on various aspects of the surgery, until he felt he’d received a comprehensive answer. The surgeon was charmingly unfazed, commenting that Dr Google had a lot to answer for these days. This confused George as he didn’t know a Dr Google and certainly hadn’t spoken to him.
‘How many times have you yourself performed this procedure?’ Cross asked the consultant.
‘Over five hundred,’ the surgeon replied calmly.
‘George, please…’ uttered his father in an attempt to bring the inquisition to an end.
‘Raymond, these are completely normal and valid questions. Your son is quite right to ask them,’ the consultant assured him.
‘What is your success rate?’ George asked, as if completely unaware that his father had said anything.
‘Over ninety per cent.’
‘How do you account for the other ten per cent?’ Cross pressed.
‘Every operation has its risks. Complications can arise. In this case, there is an added risk with your father being the age he is.’
‘A risk of what exactly?’ asked Cross.
‘Death,’ replied the surgeon candidly. ‘Which is why I’ve advised your father to think very carefully about going ahead.’
‘But he has a tumour. Surely it’s imperative it’s removed?’ Cross pointed out.
‘A slow-growing carcinoid. At his age there is an argument to be made, which indeed I have made, for leaving it where it is,’ continued the surgeon.
Raymond looked uncomfortable. He hadn’t shared this with his son.
‘Because something else might kill him first?’ asked George.
‘Precisely,’ said the surgeon, who was actually beginning to wish all of his conversations with patients’ relatives were this frank and honest.
‘I need to discuss this with my father.’
‘I’m a little surprised you haven’t done so, prior to this appointment.’
‘We haven’t discussed it, because my father neglected to mention it,’ replied Cross.
‘I understand. Perfectly natural.’
‘Not to inform his son of all the pertinent facts?’ asked Cross.
‘I see it all the time. What you have to remember here is that it’s your father’s decision whether to proceed with the surgery.’
*
‘I want it out, George. It’s as simple as that,’ Raymond began on the bus home.
‘In the light of what Mr Moseby has just told us, I would question the idea of its being simple,’ replied George.
‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my time worrying about Arthur growing inside me,’ said his father.
Cross didn’t say anything for quite a long time, checking he’d heard right.
‘Arthur?’ he repeated slowly.
‘My tumour. Note the possessive determiner. Christine thought giving it a name would take away some of the fear,’ his father replied, with as much dignity as someone relaying an idea they themselves think is absurd can. He was clearly unconvinced of the worth of this psychological trick.
‘I see, and how is that working for you?’ George asked.
‘George, look at me,’ Raymond replied. George turned to face his father. ‘I am going to have this operation. It’s what I want to do, and I’d like you, as I know you will, to respect that and help me.’
George thought about this for a moment and realised that it was a perfectly reasonable point of view.
‘Very well,’ he said finally.
‘Thank you, George,’ replied his father, relieved until—
‘But we’ll need to get a second opinion,’ insisted George. Raymond sighed at the inevitability of this.
Having sought one, George finally concluded that Moseby was indeed the right choice to conduct the procedure and so the operation was now due to take place.