Chapter 14: The Most Difficult Friday of My Life

September 28, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

“Doctor Morrison said it will take about forty-eight hours to have all the test results because some of the cultures take time,” Keiko said when I arrived at the hospital on Wednesday evening.

“And the chemo?”

“We completed today’s infusion; he’ll evaluate everything in the morning. If he has to stop the chemo, I want you to take me home.”

“Are you sure, Keiko-chan?”

“If they stop the chemo, that means I’m not healthy enough for a transplant, even if they find a donor. The process basically destroys your marrow, and you can’t do that if you have an infection because there would be nothing to fight it. The antibiotic I’m receiving is the strongest non-experimental one available, and it doesn’t appear to be working.”

“What about a clinical trial?”

“Doctor Weiss looked into one new drug, but I don’t qualify for their very limited first human trial.”

“Why?”

“Because of the chemo.”

“Don’t you need to finish the course of antibiotics?”

“Yes, but I spoke to the psychologist who specializes in helping cancer patients, and she said it’s possible to do that at home.”

“Private duty nursing care,” I replied. “Violet mentioned that as a possibility, and I checked into it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You told me what you wanted, so I checked into it. We’d need to get a hospital-style bed, which we could put in the Japanese room to facilitate your IVs and nursing care. We’d also need to figure out a solution for a shower, but I think it’s possible to convert the half bath somehow. I’ll look into that tomorrow.”

“That would be expensive,” Keiko said.

“Maybe, but we need to make sure you have everything you need on the ground floor so you don’t have to navigate the stairs. We don’t have an elevator like a house Dustin photographed a few months ago! Anyway, I’ll call the agency first thing tomorrow. The one I think is best can actually provide the bed and everything else we’ll need, in addition to having a nurse visit on whatever schedule we need. Will your grandmother be able to stay with you during the day while I’m at work?”

“I’m sure, between my grandparents and parents, we can work it out. My mom is going to be impossible.”

“I’ll deal with her,” I said. “We’re married, and that means it is up to us, not her. And in the end, it’s what you want, Keiko-chan.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, a tear dripping down her face.

“For what?” I asked.

“Everything. It’s...”

She began sobbing, and there was only one thing to do. The restrictions be damned, and the rules be damned, I climbed into the bed with Keiko on the side away from her IV and monitors, and pulled her to me.

“You did nothing wrong,” I soothed, gently rubbing her back while avoiding the wires and tubes. “Whatever happens, you’re my wife, and that fact makes me very happy. I love you, Keiko-chan. Nothing can change that.”

I held her while she cried, my own emotions welling up and threatening to overwhelm me. I knew, though, that no matter what happened, Keiko needed me to be strong, and I was determined to do that. I held her for about ten minutes before a nurse came in and reprimanded me. I thought about arguing, but in the end, I knew they could kick me out of the hospital, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the nurse. “But Keiko needed me.”

“I understand, but it’s dangerous for both of you.”

I almost asked just how much additional danger it could cause my wife, who was, all things considered, likely terminal, but I held my tongue. There was simply no point in starting a debate that I couldn’t win. The nurse checked Keiko’s IV and monitors and took her temperature, reporting what I could tell from holding Keiko — her temperature was above normal and had actually risen a quarter of a degree.

“When will you take me home?” Keiko asked.

“No later than Friday evening,” I said. “Let’s see what Doctor Morrison says in the morning.”

“OK.”

“No matter what, we’re going to have our ceremony at Chicago Botanic Garden a week from Saturday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, unless you absolutely refuse.”

“No, but ... what will people think?”

“I do not intend to tell anyone about your decision. That can wait until after the ceremony on the 8th.”

“But won’t people know if I’m home?”

“You can simply tell them that you preferred to be at home rather than in the hospital, and we arranged for that. I would, if you agree, tell Bianca.”

“You should, and you should tell Violet if you want. I’d tell my grandparents, but they’ll insist I tell my parents. The fiction you proposed will work for a week, especially if you take me home on Friday.”

“I want to ask one more time — are you sure about this?”

“If I have to stop the chemo, yes. If not, then I’ll complete that and decide.”

“OK. I’m going to stay with you tonight. I’ll get something to eat from the cafeteria and call Bianca to bring me some fresh clothes for tomorrow.”

“Jonathan...”

“I love you, Keiko; I want to stay. I will go to work and to class, but otherwise, I’m going to stay with you. This time, I’m putting my foot down, something I don’t ever do with you.”

She smiled, “I love you, and I won’t fight you.”

“Thank you.”

I used the room phone to call Bianca, who agreed to bring me clothes and toiletries. I asked her to meet me in the cafeteria, and once the call was complete, I went down to have my dinner and wait for Bianca, who showed up about five minutes after I finished eating.

“I know you didn’t want to speak in front of Keiko, so I didn’t ask when you called, but...”

I took a deep breath and let it out before answering her, which I was sure telegraphed my answer.

“If Doctor Morrison discontinues the chemo, I’d say it’s over. I just don’t see any possible path to recovery because she can’t have chemo until the infection clears, and the IV antibiotic does not appear to be knocking it out.”

“I hate to ask this, but what happens?”

“The highest odds are pneumonia or organ failure. What Keiko absolutely does not want is to go on a ventilator, as she feels she’d never get off and never leave the hospital. I think that’s an accurate assessment. We’ll keep her home and use what the nursing agency called ‘palliative’ care to keep her as comfortable as possible.”

“What about the wedding ceremony?”

“We’re doing that if I have to carry her,” I said. “And we’re not saying anything to anyone about Keiko’s decision until after the ceremony. We agreed I could tell you, and Keiko also said I could tell Violet, but that’s it until after the 8th. We want people to enjoy themselves, and they will if they believe Keiko has hope.”

“This totally sucks,” Bianca said.

“It does, but I have absolutely no regrets about my choices and decisions. None. I love her, and she’s my wife, and I’m happy about that. I wish things were different, but this is where we find ourselves.”

“Don’t bottle it in, Jonathan; that’s not healthy.”

“Healthy or not, I have to be strong for Keiko. I know it might sound bad, but there will be time to mourn after...”

“Yeah,” Bianca said. “You know I’ll be there for you.”

I smiled, “I understand the sentiment, and I hope that’s true, but what happened to Keiko has driven home the fact that there are no guarantees.”

“It has,” Bianca agreed. “OK to come up and see her?”

“Yes. It’s still visiting hours.”

We headed up to Keiko’s room, and I hung my clean suit in the closet, then sat down away from the bed so Bianca could sit close and speak with Keiko. About twenty minutes later, Bianca got up, so I stood, and we hugged.

“See you at work tomorrow,” Bianca said.

“Yes.”

She left, I changed into the sweatsuit Bianca had brought, and settled down in the easy chair near the bed.

September 29, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

“Keiko and I discussed it, and I’m taking her home on Friday evening,” I said to Doctor Morrison in the corridor outside Keiko’s room on Thursday morning.

“That’s not a good idea, Jonathan,” he countered. “She has some kind of systemic infection.”

“Doc, please don’t try to spin what you said to me the other day.”

“Spin?”

“When I asked you what else we could do, you said ‘pray’, which means you are out of options. Keiko does not want to die in the hospital, and she absolutely does not want to be on a ventilator.”

“She could recover.”

“And what are the odds that she’ll ever be healthy enough for a marrow transplant? And what are the odds of finding one, given more than a thousand people have been tested in Chicago, California, and Japan? Not to mention all the people on the registry?”

“It’s not certain that she will die, Jonathan.”

“Tell me, please, what you would do in her situation? I know my answer.”

He nodded grimly, “Let’s wait to see what the blood test results show tomorrow afternoon, OK?”

“She wants to go home no matter what,” I said. “May I speak bluntly?”

“Yes, of course.”

“At this point, given what I know, and what I’ve heard from you and from Doctor Weiss, there are no options, and it’s literally only a question of when, not if. Barring a miracle, that is. Keiko and I both deal with science, not wishful thinking. We hope you do as well. At some point, and we feel this is it, the chances of success do not justify what amounts to torture. I know that sounds harsh, but I’ve seen what Keiko has gone through, and, frankly, enough is enough. Well, unless you know of something else that can be tried, that has a reasonable chance of success.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “Have you arranged for nursing care?”

“I spoke to three different agencies, and I’ll engage one of them later this morning. There’s one that provides full service, including a hospital-style bed, monitors, and supplies, in addition to nursing. They can start tomorrow, so long as I call them by 9:00am today, which I will.”

“You’ll need to sign her out AMA — Against Medical Advice. Officially, I cannot condone what you’re doing.”

“Whatever you need to do to keep the bureaucrats happy,” I said. “I have to deal with regulators, and I’m sure the medical licensing board is equally fastidious, not to mention the hospital administration and legal team. We’ll sign whatever papers you need us to sign.”

“Are you still planning your ceremony on the 8th?”

“Yes, and we hope you’ll be there.”

“My wife and I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Doctor. We both appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“Sadly, it wasn’t enough.”

“Not through any fault of yours, or the hospital’s, or anyone else. That said, I will do everything in my power to aid research.”

“The Leukemia Society of America is a charitable organization with the goal of finding a cure and also improving treatment for leukemia.”

“I’ll get in touch with them. I have both personal resources and friends and co-workers with resources. I’ll see you tomorrow. I will be staying the night again.”

“Do me a favor, and please do not get into bed with Keiko.”

“I’ll do my best, but I reserve the right to do whatever my wife tells me to do.”

The three doctors and two medical students all laughed; I shook hands with Doctor Morrison, then went back into Keiko’s room.

“May I ask what caused everyone to laugh?”

“Doctor Morrison asked me not to get into bed with you again, and I agreed, though I said I reserved the right to do whatever my wife told me to do!”

Keiko laughed softly, “It’s never been like that.”

“I know, but I made them laugh after a pretty grim conversation. They’re going to make us sign some forms that say we’re leaving against medical advice, but Doctor Morrison won’t cause any trouble.”

“What did you say to him?”

“In my usual direct way, I asked if he had any alternative treatments and what he would do in your situation. That got my point across. He did promise to be at Chicago Botanic Garden a week from Saturday. I’m sorry, but I need to leave for work. I’ll see you at lunch, then again before class.”

“I understand. My grandmother is coming later, and my parents will come by at some point. Are you skipping dinner with Violet?”

“Yes. We discussed it on Tuesday.”

I kissed Keiko and left, heading to the Hancock Center. Once I arrived, I performed my usual morning tasks, and as soon as I had placed my daily analyst report on Mr. Matheson’s desk, I went to the small conference room so I could make my phone calls in private. My first was to Horizon Hospice, where I made all the necessary arrangements to have a nurse visit once a day and to have the bed and monitors delivered. We coordinated the time for when I knew Kristy would be home and promised she’d have a check for the initial payment.

Once that was completed, I called Brown Construction to speak to Marcus Washington about options for the half bath on the ground floor of the house.

“If I recall correctly,” he said, ‘the house has a full basement.”

“It does, and the bathroom is directly over the laundry room.”

“That makes it fairly easy. What I would suggest is that you install a drain in the floor, and install a handheld shower. You’d also need to tile the entire room — the floor and to above shoulder height on the walls. Any other option would require a custom bathtub, and that would be an expensive proposition.”

“Is that work you do?”

“We could, but given your timeframe, I’ll refer you to a guy to whom we subcontract small jobs. If you go directly to him, it’ll be much cheaper. You can also avoid any ... Imperial entanglements. If you go the official route, you’re talking a month. If you do it yourself, you don’t need permits or inspections, if you get my drift.”

“Got it. Do you know if the guy is available?”

“I’ll call him and see if I can get him out to your place first thing Saturday to scope it out, but if what you say is true, it’s cutting a hole in the floor, installing the drain, plumbing the drain, and shower, and tiling the walls and floor, which should take no more than two days, and he’ll work any hours you need, though there’s a bit of extra charge for weekends.”

“Call him, please, and let me know. How are things going with the job here?”

“All the applications are in, so we wait for the gears to turn. We’ll make mid-November. Do you want me to update you?”

“No. I only asked because I had you on the phone. I’ll get updates from Jack Clinton.”

We said ‘goodbye’, I flashed the switchhook and called Will Waterston at Goldman Sachs to confirm that everything was set with the mortgages. He’d received the inspection reports and their underwriting team and received the appraisal. He promised to have a commitment letter with instructions for closing to me on Monday. After my call with him, I called Bill Wyatt to confirm there were no additional things I needed to do and then went back to work. While I was working, the contractor Marcus had recommended had called, and we arranged for him to come to the house at 8:00am on Saturday.

I saw Keiko at lunch and after work, then went to class. When Violet and I were at the diner, I broke the news.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed, tears forming in her eyes.

“We’re still going to have our wedding ceremony,” I said. “But beyond that, who knows?”

“What can I do for you, Jonathan?”

“You’re doing it by being my friend,” I said.

“But you’ve done so much for me.”

“That’s what friends do,” I replied.

“If you need anything, anything at all, you’ll ask?”

“I promise I will.”

I finished my meal, Violet finished her pie and coffee, and after I walked her home, I drove to Rush-Presbyterian Hospital to spend the night with Keiko.

September 30, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

“Today is going to be a difficult day at work,” I said to Keiko just before Doctor Morrison was due for morning rounds.

“I know you can handle it, Jonathan; and Mr. Spurgeon obviously knows, or he wouldn’t have assigned it to you.”

“Oh, I know,” I agreed. “But telling people they’re losing their jobs is not something I ever envisioned doing.”

“But when you run your own company someday, it’s very possible you’ll need to do those things. This is very good practice.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, of course not, but you did say it was about doing what’s best for the company.”

“I did.”

“Then go be the successful man I love and handle it!”

I smiled, “Is this where I say ‘Yes, Dear’ like a henpecked husband?”

“No!” Keiko replied with a smile of her own. “Because you know you aren’t!”

I smirked, “I like being pecked by YOU!”

Keiko laughed, “Uh-huh. Like one of those birds that dips its beak in water and goes up and down and up and down?”

“I was thinking kisses, but I won’t deny I like what you suggested!”

“Well, kiss me and go to work!”

I lowered my mask, kissed her, then left her room so I could head to the Hancock Center. There wasn’t anything major going on in the world, though my daily analysis of the Philippine economy pushed my indicator into the red, meaning a devaluation or interest rate hike was very likely in the next two weeks.

Their third-quarter balance of payment numbers were projected to be north of $700 million in outflow, which meant their foreign currency reserves were being depleted at an alarming rate. I also saw signs of capital flight, and word on the street was that the IMF had insisted on austerity measures before additional drawing rights would be approved.