‘You gonna play cars with me?’ Max handed him a red pickup truck from the impressive collection of toy vehicles he had covering the surface of his bed.
‘I’m not staying long this morning. I have to show this lady around the ward, but I’ll come back later on to see you.’ In private.
The demolition derby going on in the centre of the bed came to an abrupt end. ‘She’s gonna put me on TV.’
‘Yes. If that’s what you want.’ Rob waited for the first indication that this was too much even for his resident funny man.
‘Wait!’ Max held his hand up to halt everything and Rob heard the collective gasp of the crew as they held their breath.
‘Is everything all right?’ All he had to do was give the word and this would end now.
‘We can stop for a while if that’s what you need, Max.’ Jessica cut across Rob’s concern with the practical solution of a timeout. Clearly she was used to being the one in charge. So was he.
The monitors were still holding steady as they charted the child’s vitals, indicating that this wasn’t a physiological problem. Max shuffled up the bed and sat straighter.
‘I just want to make sure my hair is okay for the cameras. Us TV stars have to look good for the laydees.’ He slid a hand over his little bald head, then slicked a finger over his non-existent eyebrows.
‘Maximus—’ Rob tried to hide his own smile whilst warning his tiny gladiator about making outsiders feel uncomfortable. Max was too busy rolling on the bed laughing at his own joke to take any notice. A sense of humour was an important part of recovery but sometimes the dark nature of it could take others by surprise.
He half expected to see the efficient producer wide-eyed with horror at one of the chemotherapy-based jokes which flew about here on a daily basis between the kids. Instead, those green-blue eyes were sparkling and her pretty pink lips were curved up into a grin.
‘Don’t worry—you’ll have all the girls falling over themselves to get to you, Max. Perhaps you’d like to say a few words to your future fans?’ She wasn’t the hard-ass he’d taken her for as she played along, regardless of the tight schedule she was probably on too.
With the air of a true pro, Rob’s charge stopped laughing and looked directly into the camera lens. ‘Hi, I’m Max. I’m seven and I like cars and strawberry milkshakes.’
‘Excellent. Although I’m more partial to chocolate ones myself.’ Jessica wasn’t appearing on camera herself but she certainly knew how to get the best from her subjects. She even had good taste in milkshakes.
‘Do you wanna see my central line?’ Max pulled down the front of his hospital gown to show off the long thin tube inserted into his chest used to administer his chemotherapy. He was so matter-of-fact about it there was no room for sympathy or shock. As far as a lot of the children here were concerned, they were sick and this was how they got better. It was as simple as that. The adults, on the other hand, had a much harder time of dealing with it. Max’s parents were at his bedside now, happy to let him play up to the cameras, but it had been a long and tearful journey to get this far.
‘Wow. That’s cool. And can you tell me what it’s for?’ Jessica gently coaxed some more information from her subject. Since Max and his family seemed relaxed with the line of questioning, Rob would stay out of the conversation unless his counsel was needed.
‘The nurses put the medicine in there and sometimes they take blood too.’ The plastic tube apparently held no more fear for him than the toys scattered around him, even though he’d suffered some of the awful side effects from the chemo itself. Rob supposed this was simply part of life for the boy now, as it had become for so many of his patients. It was a scenario no parent wanted for their child but it was better than the alternative. He should know. If he’d had the chance, he would’ve done whatever it took to prolong his own daughter’s life. That was part of the process he doubted these new visitors could ever really understand.
‘You’re a very brave boy, Max. Perhaps Dr Campbell could tell us some more about your condition?’ Jessica directed the camera back to him.
Take a deep breath and think of the scanner.
He glanced over at Mr and Mrs Gardner in case they wanted to have their say first.
‘I’m going to interview other family members later. For now, I’d appreciate your professional input.’ There was no chance of dodging airtime with this eagle-eyed producer on the case. She had all the bases covered and all exits firmly blocked. Rob was back in the spotlight whether he liked it or not.
He cleared his throat. ‘Max has Ewing’s sarcoma of the right tibia. This is a rare form of bone cancer usually found in older adolescent males. You’re just one in a million, buddy, aren’t you?’
Max high-fived him. ‘You better believe it.’
‘He’s responded well to the chemotherapy and is scheduled for surgery to remove the remainder of the tumour.’ Rob was savvy enough to understand that Max’s surgery was probably another reason he would be top of the producer’s wish list, along with his vivacious personality. The drama would be catnip to producers and viewers alike. Rob hoped it would have the happy ending they were all hoping for—complete removal of the tumour and preserving the limb without loss of function. Even then there were no guarantees the cancer wouldn’t return or they’d face an eventual amputation down the line. Fortunately, this job was all about taking one step at a time and so far Max’s treatment was on target.
‘And that’s under the guidance of a multidisciplinary team?’ Jessica’s stealthy research skills again made Rob wonder if they’d yet extended to his personal life.
That familiar churning started in the pit of his stomach, the way it always did when there was a chance he’d have to talk about what had happened with Leah and Mollie. There was no way he was going to be subjected to her questioning or, worse, her pity. ‘Yes, Max’s care plan has been tailor-made for him under the supervision of the surgeons, nurses, pharmacists and all the other health professionals involved in his treatment thus far.’
He shifted off the bed, not giving a damn if it upset camera angles or continuity; they could always edit. As far as this nonsense was concerned, he’d done what was required of him. More importantly, he’d checked Max wasn’t anxious before heading for surgery. ‘If you have any other questions, Maria, the senior nurse, can advise you. I really must get on with my rounds.’
Rob was counting on chatterbox Max to keep the crew busy until he’d seen the rest of his patients in peace.
‘But … but …’ Jessica was tempted to knock him back down on his butt and let her finish this segment. For some reason Dr Campbell seemed intent on sabotaging her at every turn. Just when she thought he was finally coming to terms with their presence here he’d closed up shop again. She was beginning to take it personally when he’d been such a sweetheart to Max.
Rob had switched the minute she’d opened her mouth about the MDT. Perhaps he was territorial and didn’t appreciate anyone questioning his methods here. The truth was, she’d spent so long in and out of the oncology ward herself she was practically an expert in the procedures.
It had taken her a while to get used to seeing all the little kids attached to monitors and drips again and she’d actually welcomed
