Stalked: The Boy Who Said No (26 page)

“Darlene, listen—” Frank said.

Darlene stood and flung her arms in the air in wild gestures of defiance. “I don’t want to listen, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She started to walk away.

Magda pursed her lips and turned to Frank. “Maybe another time. She’s not ready.” Frank leaned down and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to handle the situation. At least they had introduced the subject. They’d have another conversation, probably more than one, when Darlene was more open to discussing the issue.

A month later Frank stopped by the supermarket for some groceries, feeling desperate to find something—anything—to help Magda. He was almost without hope. Not a good place to be.

He filled his cart with fruits, vegetables, yogurt, and Jell-O and searched for Rice Crispies, Darlene’s favorite cereal. She was still enamored with Snap, Crackle, and Pop.

As he waited in the checkout line, a tabloid newspaper caught his eye. Amid the stories about alien abductions and people with four hands was an article about an American doctor who claimed to have a cure for cancer. Curiosity piqued, Frank read the first few lines of the story. He paid for his order and placed the newspaper atop the bag of groceries.

He opened his umbrella, shielding the newspaper against a sudden torrential downpour and headed for his car. Once he unloaded the groceries, he spread the paper against the steering wheel and switched on the overhead light.

His breath steamed the windows while rain pounded the roof like a herd of wildebeest. He knew most of the stories in these kinds of newspapers were pure poppycock, but, occasionally, they held a kernel of truth.

He scanned the article with deep concentration, flipping the page-one story to its jump on page six. The article described a treatment that was very different from what was practiced in the United States.

A doctor in Freeport, Bahamas, advanced the idea that chemotherapy and radiation weakens patients’ immune systems to the point where they can’t fight the disease. As far as he could tell, the doctor removed the patients’ plasma, treated it, and returned it to them minus the cancer cells.

Frank ruminated for a few minutes, rereading the article a couple of times. When he finished, he felt more sanguine than he had in months.
Maybe this is a fraud. Or maybe it’s the answer to our prayers.

He went home and showed Magda the article. She was skeptical at first, but Frank convinced her that it was worth a try. They had nothing to lose.

“But what about Darlene?” asked Magda.

“I think it would be best if she stayed with your parents. That way we won’t have to take her out of school. But the decision is up to you.”

Magda shook her head and pursed her lips. A pained look crossed her face. “I really want to have her with us.”

“So do I. But we don’t know what’s ahead of us. You may have a bad reaction to the treatment, and I’m not sure Darlene can handle it. As much as I’d like her to join us, it may be better if she stayed behind.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Magda, struggling with the idea of leaving Darlene.

“I’ll pack us all up and will make the airline arrangements,” said Frank. “We may be able to get a flight to Freeport tomorrow.”

“But what if I never get to see Darlene again?” asked Magda.

“Don’t worry, if it comes to that, I will make sure she is there. But right now we need to focus on getting you well.”

Magda leaned forward, covered her face with her hands, and wept. Frank had never seen her so distraught. Her whole body shook with grief. Frank sat next to her and took her in his arms. They rocked back and forth on the sofa, thinking of Darlene, fearing the unspeakable, holding on to dear life, while tears fell on each other’s shoulders.

Magda and Frank dropped Darlene at her grandparents’ house before they boarded the plane for Freeport. Mother and daughter sobbed as they said good-bye, and Frank tried his best to comfort them. He hated to leave Darlene behind, but he was at a loss about what to do. This was a nightmare from which he couldn’t awake.

The plane ride seemed to take forever. When they arrived, Frank and Magda were exhausted, physically and emotionally. Neither had slept well the night before, worrying about Darlene and the outcome of Magda’s treatment.

The next morning, after a Danish and a cup of coffee, Frank and Magda strolled to a Florida-style house—pale-green cement flanked by bird-of-paradise flowers. An office occupied the front of the house and a lab occupied the back. They entered through a louvered door and approached the secretary. A sign on her desk informed them that her name was Corinne.

“I read about your clinic in the newspaper,” Frank explained. He turned toward Magda. “My wife has Hodgkin’s disease, and we were hoping your treatment could help.”

The secretary looked at Magda and smiled wanly. “Please, sit,” she said, waving toward a couple of wicker chairs. Corinne opened her appointment book and ran her forefinger over the calendar while making small clicking sounds with her tongue. She looked at them with a troubled face.

“I’m sorry, the doctor is totally booked. I’m afraid we can’t fit you in.”

“But we’ve come all the way from New Jersey. My wife is very sick. She needs to see someone immediately.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I know this is difficult, but Dr. Hunter’s schedule is simply impossible.”

Frank glanced at Magda. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would be refused treatment. He had assumed it was a given. Magda’s face was white as cotton. Her chest heaved with weariness. This was their last chance, their last hope for a cure. Surely, there was a way to make it happen.

“I understand,” said Frank, trying to control his quaking voice. “Would it be possible for us to see Dr. Hunter for a few minutes— just to talk?”

The secretary glanced at her book. “His day begins at seven a.m. If you could get here around six-thirty, he might spend a few minutes with you.”

Frank looked at Magda, and she nodded. “We’ll be here,” he said.

There was no time for breakfast before Frank and Magda met with Dr. Hunter the next morning. The building was open and they took seats in the waiting room. Magda glanced through some magazines on the coffee table while Frank rested his eyes.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Hunter stepped through the door. He was a handsome man, about six feet tall. He sported a beard of very short nap and wore a white lab coat with his name embroidered in green thread over his right pocket. Owlish glasses framed his crystal-blue eyes, and a signet ring with a blue carved stone circled his finger.

The doctor shook Frank and Magda’s hands as they introduced themselves. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Corinne tells me Magda has Hodgkin’s disease and would like to avail herself of our services.”

“Yes,” said Frank.

“And she has informed you that we have no openings?”

“She has.”

Dr. Hunter leaned back in his chair. “Then what can I do for you?”

“Could you explain in layman’s terms what you do?” asked Frank.

Dr. Hunter leaned forward. “Our work here is totally experimental. But I believe it is the treatment of the future.” He hesitated a moment. “We are clear and open about the nature of our treatments. We ask all our patients to sign a form that releases us from any liability. We make no claims of a cure, but we do offer hope.”

Frank looked at Magda, and said, “We’re all for hope.”

The doctor nodded. “That being said, our philosophy is to build up the body, not tear it down with radiation and chemotherapy. As far as I’m concerned, chemotherapy is nothing more than poison—it does little in the long run to extend life, and it erodes the patient’s quality of life.”

Frank nodded, thinking about what Magda had been through. “What’s involved in the treatment?”

“I won’t get into the technicalities. Let’s just say we purify the patient’s blood by removing the cancer cells. We work with the blood and the bone marrow. We run a lot of tests to determine whether the treatment is working and how best to alter it if it is not. We also provide nutritional support with large doses of vitamins and minerals.”

“Do you succeed?”

“We have more success with some patients than with others.”

“I see.” Frank thought for a moment. “How much do you charge?”

“Five thousand dollars if you only have to have your blood treated once. More if you need further treatment.”

Dr. Hunter turned to Magda. “Do you have any questions, dear?”

Frank thought Magda would bristle at being called “dear,” but her face showed no annoyance.

Magda glanced at the office’s rudimentary computer. “What do you use this for?”

“To record patients’ names and addresses.”

“Do you use it to track treatment results?”

The doctor shook his head. “No one here is equipped to do that.”

“Would it help if I wrote you a program so you could analyze the results of your patients’ blood work?”

A look of astonishment crossed Dr. Hunter’s eyes. “You could do that?”

Magda nodded. “I was a computer analyst for Merrill Lynch. I’m fully capable of doing that and anything else you might need. I could simplify and streamline your practice. And you could use the time you save to treat me.”

Dr. Hoffman looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. It took him a minute to process what Magda had said. Sensing an opportunity, Frank interrupted the doctor’s train of thought.

“If we were to pay you ten thousand dollars, and Magda could help computerize your practice, would you accept her as a patient then?”

Dr. Hunter leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “This is a very tempting proposition.”

“It is meant to be,” said Frank.

“Very well. Let’s give it a shot.”

Magda started treatment immediately and began to feel better. The more time that went by, the better she felt. According to the doctor, her blood work was improving and she was responding well to therapy.

As soon as she felt up to it, Magda made good on her promise to work on the clinic’s computer system. She tackled her new responsibilities with determination and enthusiasm, and quickly became the darling of the office. The staff simply loved her.

Frank rented a condo and a car for their use in the Bahamas. He traveled back and forth to New Jersey, dividing his time between his job and Darlene. Frank had several talks with Darlene about her mother’s condition, and she seemed to understand the severity of the situation as well as could be expected.

Darlene visited her mother on many occasions, often accompanied by Magda’s aunt and uncle or her parents. Magda’s family had been devastated at the news of Magda’s disease and had done everything possible to make the situation easier for Frank and Darlene.

Frank worried about how Magda’s disease was affecting his daughter. Sometimes she acted as if nothing were the matter, laughing and singing like she did before Magda’s diagnosis. At other times, she was lethargic and irritable. She was sucking her thumb more often than usual, and her teacher said she was moody and distracted.

Darlene talked to her mother on the phone several times a week. Sometimes it cheered her up. And sometimes it made her cry
uncontrollably. At those times, Frank would hold her in his arms like he did when she was a baby. She clung to him for solace, but he never felt more inadequate in his life. Whenever Darlene had a holiday from school, Frank flew with her to see her mother. Their reunions were joyful, their departures filled with despair.

For a while, Magda’s cancer went into remission. She continued treatment in the Bahamas for almost a year, and Frank and Magda treasured their time together, aware that her condition could worsen at any time. Magda sat in the sun and gazed at the crystal-blue waters of the Caribbean. She talked to Darlene and the rest of her family on the phone. She read and she prayed.

Frank and Magda often talked well into the night about family, religion, and the nature of love. They discussed what would be best for Darlene if Magda should pass, a difficult topic for them both.

In the spring of 1979, the lumps in Magda’s throat returned. She experienced extreme fatigue and slept most of the day. Frank flew her to Miami, and took her to the hospital to see if anything could be done to extend her life. The prognosis was bleak. Magda had only a short time to live. The oncologist mentioned further surgery. Distraught, Frank heard only half of what was said.

Frank entered Magda’s hospital room, sat on a vinyl-covered chair, and took her hand. “The doctor said something about surgery.”

Magda tensed and set her jaw. “I’m finished with doctors and hospitals, Frank.” She gazed out the window. “Just take me back to the Bahamas so I can live out the rest of my life in peace.”

Frank left the hospital and made the flight arrangements. Despite the medications, Magda’s pain was so severe she couldn’t get comfortable on the plane. When they arrived, Dr. Hunter and his staff were devastated that their treatment hadn’t worked. But to a certain extent it had. Magda had lived a year longer than the medical community had predicted.

Two weeks elapsed. Magda’s pain worsened, her appetite disappeared, and she shed more weight. Her face and limbs looked skeletal. Every day, every hour, was precious.