I had worked with Dr. Howell long enough to know how to read him. And I knew his news wasn’t good.
My guts twisted up as I waited for the anvil to drop.
Yoss scratched nervously at his stitches again. He seemed to pick up on the doctor’s vibe as well. He looked at me. Then away. Then at me again. I tried to send silent encouragement his way, but I wasn’t sure he received it.
For the first time since I had found him in this hospital room he looked scared.
Dr. Howell opened Yoss’s chart, his brow furrowed.
“Your hepatitis B is chronic, meaning given your high virus levels, you contracted the illness some time ago. It could have been years. Which unfortunately means that it has affected your liver.”
Yoss looked out the window and I couldn’t be sure he was even listening to Dr. Howell anymore. He seemed to have locked inside himself. Somewhere no one could reach him.
“Yossarian, you’ve started to go into liver failure, which is why you’ve been feeling nauseous and rundown. I don’t know if you’ve realized that your skin has taken on a yellow hue—”
“And here I thought I was just rocking a cool new look,” Yoss muttered, still not looking at Dr. Howell.
Or me.
Dr. Howell glanced at me, concern obvious on his face. Yoss was shutting down. That was apparent.
“We will immediately put you on a round of anti-viral medications and we will have to do some more tests to determine whether you would be eligible for a liver transplant,” Dr. Howell explained.
“A liver transplant,” Yoss repeated.
“Yes. We’ll run some X-rays, more blood tests as well as some tests on your heart and lung functioning.”
“That’s a lot of tests, Doc. Is all that stuff necessary?” Yoss asked, finally looking at him again.
“Absolutely. You’re a young man, Yossarian, I’d like to explore every option to make sure you live a long life,” Dr. Howell answered emphatically.
I should have been making notes in Yoss’s file, but my hand was frozen, with my pencil poised over the paper.
Yoss was going into liver failure.
I felt like I was hearing everything through a very long tunnel.
“And what if I can’t have a liver transplant for whatever reason? Or I’m on the waiting list for a really long time? What happens then, Dr. Howell? Will I die?” Yoss demanded.
Dr. Howell’s kind eyes never changed, but I could tell by the tightening of his jaw that he was trying to find the best possible way to tell Yoss some very bad news.
“If your MELD score is high enough and barring there’s no vascular invasion, meaning the blood vessels around the liver haven’t been affected, then the likelihood of you getting a liver transplant quickly are very high,” Dr. Howell protested.
But he hadn’t really answered Yoss’s question.
I knew that.
Yoss knew that.
“Will I die? Just answer me. Please. I’m used to dealing with the shit life throws at me. I can handle it,” Yoss said angrily.
I can handle it.
Yoss may be able to handle it, but I wasn’t sure that I could.
Dr. Howell gave a curt nod. “Yes, Yossarian—”
“Don’t call me that. It’s Yoss,” Yoss cut in.
“I apologize. Yoss, it is.” Dr. Howell’s smile was strained as he continued, “Yes, there is a chance that your disease could be fatal. The liver is an amazing organ, but it is also a vital one. And if it fails, then the likelihood of survival without a transplant is low,” Dr. Howell told him bluntly. “But, we are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen, young man. So I urge you not to focus on the negative. I know that may be easier said than done, but I encourage you talk to someone. Imogen can help set up counseling if you’re interested. I think that may be beneficial. And I promise, that this hospital and myself are committed to doing everything we can to help you.”
Fatal.
That one word rang in my ears and bounced around my head.
Yoss gave Dr. Howell a curt nod and went back to staring out the window.
“Okay, I’ll set up the tests. We should be able to do most of what needs to be done this afternoon. The sooner the better. I’m also scheduling a liver biopsy. It’s a routine procedure but will require additional recovery time. I’ll try to get it scheduled for the next few days. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Howell asked and Yoss shook his head.
“Okay then, I’ll leave you to finish up with Ms. Conner.” Dr. Howell looked my way again. “Imogen, can you spare a minute? I’d like to speak with you.”
“Of course, Dr. Howell.” I turned back to Yoss. “I’ll be right back,” I said quietly, but there was no response.