Things began to return to a more normal state of affairs for Wilson over the next few days. He was, to his immense relief, released from the hospital and allowed to go home, however he spent little time there. More and more often he began to hang out at House's and when he wasn't, he would usually spend the night at Amber's.
A desire to be in the company of these two people he cared about seemed to be building within Wilson, and he saw no reason to resist it. He didn't know if this desire stemmed from fear, love, or both, but he found he didn't really care. It was wonderful to have some kind of normalcy after the shock of his diagnosis. Wilson never thought he would appreciate House's sense of humor as much as he did, but it became an invaluable part of their time together.
Inevitably, however, reality reasserted itself. One short week after he was released from the hospital Wilson was in Dave Brown's office, one of his best and most trusted fellow oncologists. He was several years older than Wilson, his dark hair sporting only a few grays, and he had sharp, keen, hazel eyes. Brown was competent, knowledgeable, and he and Wilson had had a good working relationship for several years. This meeting, however, was a first for both colleagues.
"How have you been, James?" Brown asked, his voice steady but clearly concerned.
"There hasn't been anything new, no seizures since that first one. I-"
"James," Brown cut across him, looking intently into the other man's eyes, "we have plenty of time to talk about the medicine, and we will. We'll cover everything, I promise."
"But?" Wilson prompted.
"But you're not just another patient. You're not just my department head, you're my friend. I hope you know that."
"Thanks, Dave," Wilson said, smiling.
"So how have you been dealing with this?"
Wilson sighed.
"As well as can be expected, I guess. It's just, um…someone's about to push me out of the airplane and no one bothered to give me a chute," Wilson said, the bitter smile his friends knew so well creeping onto his face.
"I can imagine," Brown said, nodding, "and I want you to know I'll make myself available anytime if you need it."
"Thanks," Wilson said, nodding.
"Can I give you a friendly warning, James?"
Wilson nodded.
"You're going to want to make your own treatment decisions, I mean it's only natural, you're head of oncology. That's the worst thing you could do. The whole 'physician, heal thyself' thing is not going to work here. I will always take your wishes into account, but I need you to trust me to be your oncologist, OK?"
It was clear to Wilson that his colleague had given a lot of thought to how he was going to proceed. In spite of everything, it comforted Wilson to know that.
"OK," Wilson replied, looking back at Brown.
"All right," Brown replied, nodding, "ready to get into it, then?"
Bracing himself, Wilson nodded.
"The good news is that we found the tumor early," Brown began, his voice clear and professional, "so it's still operable. As you know, though, glioblastoma is extremely aggressive, so there aren't any guarantees I can make."
Wilson scoffed.
"There are never any guarantees," he said.
Brown nodded.
"I know you understand the protocols, but I'd like to go through your options anyway," the older man continued, pulling Wilson's file closer to himself. "We can operate and then do radiation only. The next option is adding chemo to that. Option 3 is we implant the Gliadel wafer during surgery. The last option is chemo and radiation only. The strongest evidence is with the Gliadel wafer, so that's what I think we should do."
"I agree," Wilson said quietly, knowing that Brown had given him the best advice possible. Neither said anything for several long moments, but softly Wilson broke the silence.
"Let's be real for a second here, Dave. Even in the best case scenario I've got two years at most."
Brown shook his head.
"Don't think like that. You have the burden of knowledge, James…you know the survival rates, and based on those you're right. But you're not the doctor this time, I am. Let me worry about the statistics. I need you to take this thing one step at a time."
Wilson sighed.
"I'll try," he said, "but that's not exactly my strong suit."
Brown smiled encouragingly.
"You'll do just fine, James," Brown said.
"When should we do this?" Wilson asked.
Glancing through his appointment book, Brown found the first opening he had.
"I'd like to do it as soon as possible. Next week Monday?"
Even with all his experience as an oncologist Wilson's heart seemed to drop through his abdomen. Six days. It seemed like no time at all. Gathering his composure quickly, though, Wilson nodded.
Nodding back, Brown found Wilson's eyes once again.
"Get some rest in the next week, James…you're going to need it."
A/N: I just found another RSL gem for those who are interested...it's called "Swing Kids"... RSL...sigh : ) Anyway hope you all enjoy...I think I'll be posting more quickly now, I've been bombarded by inspiration lately...later, all!