Start: The prognosis

"So I'm going to have this 'PICC line' coming out from below my armpit, and it'll feed the chemo directly into my heart, as well as my modified genes?!" Walt asked.

"That's right, Mr. Dee, the peripherally inserted central catheter feeds everything into your blood system directly into the heart intravenously, over several weeks."

"Well, that can't be fun!"

The doctor, having seen and heard all of the reactions to unpleasant news like this that there was, let the sarcasm pass unchallenged.

"No, Mr. Dee, it is not, but it's the most advanced and best chance that you have of beating this cancer."

"And the reason you can't operate is what, again?"

"Simply the size and the location of the tumor prevents us from reaching it and treating it successfully. Plus there's the matter of opening the skull being undesirable."

"Doctor, if it meant getting rid of this tumor," Walt joked with dark humor, "I'd let you shove that machine over there up my ass!"

The doctor simply smiled, and Walt took a small punch in the arm from his wife for his crudeness.

"And the genes..."

"Are your own genes, modified slightly to sort of turn them into brain grey matter police. They'll flow through the blood to parts of your brain, checking to ensure that what they find is brain instead of a tumor, and when they find a bit of brain, they'll not bother it, but if they find a bit of a tumor they'll, in essence, destroy it."

"And I'll be in a coma?"

"That's correct," the doctor answered, "You'll be placed in a medically-induced coma to lessen the likelihood that you'll get more sick than you already are from the chemotherapy."

Walt Dee couldn't decide which part he disliked the most: That they'll be inserting a tube into his heart to deliver what is essentially poison, or that he'd be in a coma for weeks. Both prospects were... unsettling.

"Honey," Walt asked his wife, Barbara, her thoughts, "What do you think?"

Barbara had been following along intently, weighing the pros and cons of her husband's options and had already come to the conclusion that if Walt were to be getting chemo anyway, and if gene therapy could increase his chances of remission and a full recovery, then it was a no-brainer.

"Like you, I'm concerned, sweetheart, but I don't see any downside, so I say go ahead," she advised.

The attending physician came to the point and sought Dee's permission to proceed with the gene therapy in addition to the chemotherapy.

"Okay, doc," Walt agreed, "We'll think about it."

"Certainly, Mr. Dee, This is not a decision to be made lightly. If you choose to go ahead with the plan please get with my assistant and we'll schedule the operation for the first very early morning available, then."

Leaving thru the door of the private room, the doctor turned and advised his patient, "I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, but once we put you under anesthesia, you will not wake up until two weeks or so, and there is a very slight possibility that you might not be able to be resuscitated."

"It's a very small chance, but it's a possibility, nonetheless. I would use the rest of your day today to rest, get your affairs in order, and spend some time with your family. That's what I'd advise regardless of whether or not you choose to go ahead with this procedure."

"Okay, doc!"

"Thank you," Barbara was thankful this skilled doctor was so kind in explaining everything to them.