Medical Center. Outside the Hospital Room.
The four city gals stood there, speechless.
It's not that they didn't get what Adam was saying.
But when something like this hits you, even if it's the best-case scenario in a sea of bad luck, your sense of humor just… doesn't kick in.
Because, at the end of the day, it's still bad news.
Cancer. Breast cancer, no less.
"Adam, if it's confirmed… how do we treat it?"
Carrie glanced nervously at Samantha and asked, treading lightly.
"Didn't Dr. Pierce go over this with you?" Adam said, surprised. "If it's breast cancer, Samantha's young and her body can handle surgery. That's the go-to option.
If it's caught early, we can do a lumpectomy—just remove the tumor and about a half-inch to an inch of tissue around it.
The upside's obvious, right? Less invasive. The downside? No guarantee it won't come back. She'd need regular checkups after.
Then there's the radical mastectomy option.
Exactly what it sounds like—take out the whole breast, the pec muscles, all the lymph nodes in the armpit, the arteries and veins in the chest, and any tissue that might turn cancerous. It's a full wipeout of breast cancer risk…"
"Hiss."
Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte sucked in a sharp breath.
"Would she even still be a woman after that?" Charlotte muttered, stunned.
"There's reconstructive surgery later…" Adam paused. "The radical approach works, but it's so extreme—cuts out too much and tanks quality of life. That's why it's rare these days.
Most go for a modified radical mastectomy now. Keeps the chest muscles, and with reconstruction afterward, it looks better and patients handle it easier."
"So the radical one's a total cure—no recurrence?" Miranda, the sharp lawyer, pressed.
"Sorry, it's not that simple," Adam shook his head. "Unless it's super early-stage, only about 60% to 70% of early breast cancer patients are fully cured. The other 30% to 40% could still see it come back.
Long-term monitoring, close follow-ups, regular checkups—that's standard for cancer patients.
Catching it early and treating it fast? That's a massive stroke of luck."
"What about chemo?" Miranda kept going. "Does she need it? I heard it makes your hair fall out."
"Yeah," Adam nodded. "Hair loss happens with chemo, but it's not a big deal—stops when the treatment does, and it grows back. The real kicker's that chemo trashes your immune system, so you're more prone to getting sick.
Usually, cancer surgery's followed by chemo to back it up.
But if breast cancer's caught early enough, you can skip chemo and go for lighter stuff like endocrine therapy or targeted treatments with fewer side effects.
Bottom line…"
"Bottom line," Carrie jumped in, forcing a cheery vibe, "finding out Samantha's got breast cancer today is actually super lucky!"
"Right! If it's early enough, breast cancer's no match for Samantha," Miranda and Charlotte chimed in, picking up Carrie's cue.
"Thanks," Samantha said, her mood lifting a bit. She dropped the self-mockery and meant it.
After hearing all that, she realized her best shot was what Adam kept hammering: early detection, early treatment.
The earlier, the better.
Like tons of early-stage patients, she hadn't noticed a thing—or if she did, she brushed it off.
If she hadn't flirted with Adam today and asked for a checkup—and if he hadn't ignored her teasing, gotten serious, and flagged the risk—she wouldn't have gotten tested.
Who knows how long it'd have been before it turned into life-or-death, or a fate worse than death? 😬
"I'm a doctor," Adam said with a small smile. "It's my job."
"I want you to be my doctor," Samantha said, taking a deep breath. "Can you?"
"Of course," Adam grinned. "If you're ready, I can set up a biopsy right now to confirm it ASAP."
Cancer's usually handled by oncologists.
But surgeons can do the operation.
Adam could perform Samantha's surgery, then hand her off to an oncologist for the long haul—follow-ups, monitoring, checkups—all that jazz.
Oncologists love that setup.
It's their bread and butter—steady patients mean steady cash for their mansions and sports cars.
Adam could do it all himself. Patients usually trust the surgeon who successfully operates on them.
Plenty of folks keep going back to "their" doctor for everything—even unrelated stuff—letting that doc decide whether to handle it or pass it on.
Fun fact: in American medical dramas, passing patients between doctors comes with a cut.
Healthcare's a business here. Referring a patient's a referral either way—unless it's a rare case only you can handle, why bother without a payout?
And if we're being shady about it: even if it's a case only you can fix, if I don't tell the patient, how would they know?
If they die, it's not my problem. The bills still get paid—might even rack up more if it drags on without a cure.
That's where a doctor's ethics come in.
It's why patients cling to a doctor they trust, running to them for every little thing.
Adam's worth that trust, but he's not chasing the cash—he's short on time. Follow-ups and checkups pile up fast and eat into his life-saving hours.
So he keeps tabs on the medical world—gossip included.
He doesn't just scope out his peers' skills; he digs into their ethics too, keeping score in his head.
Otherwise, if he hands a patient off to some shiny-on-the-outside, rotten-on-the-inside "famous" doc, he'd be betraying their faith in him.
No messing around!
Adam took Samantha for a biopsy. Guided by ultrasound, he did a needle poke on the suspicious lump, grabbed a tiny sample, and rushed it to the lab for pathology.
Confirmed: breast cancer, super early-stage.
He consulted an oncologist, got Samantha's okay, and admitted her. Pre-op tests were lined up—if all checked out, lumpectomy tomorrow.
Yup, Samantha picked the lumpectomy.
Unless it's dire, not many women have the guts of Dr. Montgomery's friend.
That lady? Went full throttle—double mastectomy, fake boobs, hysterectomy, both ovaries out—just because of genetics and a "maybe."
Her husband begged her not to, but she did it anyway. He left at first, then showed up during surgery, seeming to cave and support her wild choice.
No clue how they're doing now…
It's the ultimate, brutal test of true love.
They say opposite-sex love's just for making babies.
So this couple—Dr. Montgomery's friends—with no chance of kids anymore? They'd be the perfect case to prove if true love's real.
Adam's not holding his breath, though.
True love, like human nature, can't be tested.
Especially over the long haul.
Maybe everyone's secretly thinking: "I love you, but I love myself more…"
(End of Chapter)