Chapter 3: Death From Within
Over 60 years ago nuclear bombs were exploded over two cities in Japan, ushering in the 'nuclear age' to the general public. Behind the scenes though in laboratories in Europe as early as the 1930's the use of radiation was discovered to have the ability to be an invisible knife in the battle against cancers.
ZURICH - 1930
"Azz you ken kleearly see. Zee radeeachon akts, like.....hmmm akts, like .... meelyons ov tinee boolets.", Dr. Petrov Kinsky struggled, through his weak English to get the even more complicated message about the benefits of radiation in the treatment of tumors of the breast to his colleagues who had gathered in Zurich for the conference.
A long-fingered hand attached to an even longer arm, rose from the third row. A hand and arm recognized by Petrov, that of Dr. Steven Marsden, from Boston College Medical Center - a man who still believed that radical surgery was the one and only sure-cure for cancer.
"Pete, Pete, Pete!" Marsden shouted - knowing that the Ukranian hated how this American butchered his name - "You and I BOTH know that the only REAL way to cure cancer is to CUT IT OUT!"
From the podium, which he gripped with whitening knuckles, Dr. Kinsky took a breath, trying not to engage the American in an argument in front of this group of international doctors.
"Doktor Mar-a-deen!" Petrov said - intentionally mangling the American's name in mock revenge.
"Eeen feefty yeers you veel see dat radeachon tarapee veel be as common as drunkeen Ireeshmen een Boston." The assembled crowd of professionals chuckled at the return shot.
Chapter 4: A Cocktail of Cure, or a Beaker of Poison
CHICAGO - 1961
Holding the beaker of slightly yellow solution, watching the light from the florescent send an almost psychedelic pattern on the pages of her notebook, doctoral candidate in biochemistry, Pamella Wilkinson talks out loud.
"I just don't know. I just don't know if it's right... It works in the lab....I just hope it doesn't kill anyone."
The door to the lab crashes open and in walks the red-bearded rotund, Dr. Humphrey O'Connor, bearing two more cups of coffee, and two large bagels, well, one large one, and one half-eaten.
"So, Teaser! What have you got for me this morning?" O'Connor sat his load down on the lab counter, wiped some bagel crumbs from his beard and grabbed the notebook from his student.
He calls her 'Teaser' not because of any thing sexual, she was young, overly beautiful for a biochemist and brilliant, yet lacked confidence in her work, and every time she explained something she had the habit of reaching out with a notebook, or a beaker, or a petri dish, and retracting it over and over as she explained why or why not a sample would or wouldn't work... hence the name, 'Teaser'...
"Well, the formula is right." she reaches out with the beaker.
"It contains all four of my chemicals, I call it STAR. But...." she retracts the beaker.
"I have spent the last sixteen hours playing with the dosages." she extends the beaker.
"It works on the cells in the dish. But..." she retracts the beaker.
"I am not sure that it won't kill the patient as well as the cancer." she extends the beaker.
"If we don't get it right..."
O'Connor grabs her arm with one hand and the precious beaker with the other.
"It's time to try..."
Chapter 5: Epiphany in the Shower
HOUSTON - 1985
Stacks of yellowing journal articles litter the desk in his bedroom office, their pages, scrawled with notes, highlighted in green, yellow and blue. Patient charts, test results - various readings circled in red ink, crossed out, connected with lines of blue ink. The trail of papers creates a path that marks the hectic daily movements of Dr. Calvin Hopstra, chief of Medical Oncology at the University of Texas.
Steam filters the light from the bathroom door, which, could not close because of the bound volume of the Journal of Oncological Science that leans, flopped open in the door jam.
Accross the room Mary Hopstra, wife of the obsessive oncologist flips the pages of Cosmo as she waits her turn in the shower. "Honey, are you do...."
"Oh, My GOD YES!!!!" bursting from the bathroom like some kind of wild beast, her husband appears, soaking wet, with shampoo dripping from his head down his shoulders, over his chest.
"I think I have a way to treat Mrs. Thompkins without killing her! If I combine BOTH targeted radiation therapy AND a cocktail of chemotherapy, they SHOULD work TOGETHER to kill the tumor while increasing her chances of survival!"
He rushes over to the bed, reaches out and plants a wet kiss on his wifes forehead. "I got to get to the hospital. Have you seen my pants?"
Chuckling over her husbands enthusiasm at his discovery she adds, "Uh, you might want to finish toweling off before getting dressed!"
Struggling to get his soppy pants off his leg...."I guess so..."
Over 60 years ago nuclear bombs were exploded over two cities in Japan, ushering in the 'nuclear age' to the general public. Behind the scenes though in laboratories in Europe as early as the 1930's the use of radiation was discovered to have the ability to be an invisible knife in the battle against cancers.
ZURICH - 1930
"Azz you ken kleearly see. Zee radeeachon akts, like.....hmmm akts, like .... meelyons ov tinee boolets.", Dr. Petrov Kinsky struggled, through his weak English to get the even more complicated message about the benefits of radiation in the treatment of tumors of the breast to his colleagues who had gathered in Zurich for the conference.
A long-fingered hand attached to an even longer arm, rose from the third row. A hand and arm recognized by Petrov, that of Dr. Steven Marsden, from Boston College Medical Center - a man who still believed that radical surgery was the one and only sure-cure for cancer.
"Pete, Pete, Pete!" Marsden shouted - knowing that the Ukranian hated how this American butchered his name - "You and I BOTH know that the only REAL way to cure cancer is to CUT IT OUT!"
From the podium, which he gripped with whitening knuckles, Dr. Kinsky took a breath, trying not to engage the American in an argument in front of this group of international doctors.
"Doktor Mar-a-deen!" Petrov said - intentionally mangling the American's name in mock revenge.
"Eeen feefty yeers you veel see dat radeachon tarapee veel be as common as drunkeen Ireeshmen een Boston." The assembled crowd of professionals chuckled at the return shot.
Chapter 4: A Cocktail of Cure, or a Beaker of Poison
CHICAGO - 1961
Holding the beaker of slightly yellow solution, watching the light from the florescent send an almost psychedelic pattern on the pages of her notebook, doctoral candidate in biochemistry, Pamella Wilkinson talks out loud.
"I just don't know. I just don't know if it's right... It works in the lab....I just hope it doesn't kill anyone."
The door to the lab crashes open and in walks the red-bearded rotund, Dr. Humphrey O'Connor, bearing two more cups of coffee, and two large bagels, well, one large one, and one half-eaten.
"So, Teaser! What have you got for me this morning?" O'Connor sat his load down on the lab counter, wiped some bagel crumbs from his beard and grabbed the notebook from his student.
He calls her 'Teaser' not because of any thing sexual, she was young, overly beautiful for a biochemist and brilliant, yet lacked confidence in her work, and every time she explained something she had the habit of reaching out with a notebook, or a beaker, or a petri dish, and retracting it over and over as she explained why or why not a sample would or wouldn't work... hence the name, 'Teaser'...
"Well, the formula is right." she reaches out with the beaker.
"It contains all four of my chemicals, I call it STAR. But...." she retracts the beaker.
"I have spent the last sixteen hours playing with the dosages." she extends the beaker.
"It works on the cells in the dish. But..." she retracts the beaker.
"I am not sure that it won't kill the patient as well as the cancer." she extends the beaker.
"If we don't get it right..."
O'Connor grabs her arm with one hand and the precious beaker with the other.
"It's time to try..."
Chapter 5: Epiphany in the Shower
HOUSTON - 1985
Stacks of yellowing journal articles litter the desk in his bedroom office, their pages, scrawled with notes, highlighted in green, yellow and blue. Patient charts, test results - various readings circled in red ink, crossed out, connected with lines of blue ink. The trail of papers creates a path that marks the hectic daily movements of Dr. Calvin Hopstra, chief of Medical Oncology at the University of Texas.
Steam filters the light from the bathroom door, which, could not close because of the bound volume of the Journal of Oncological Science that leans, flopped open in the door jam.
Accross the room Mary Hopstra, wife of the obsessive oncologist flips the pages of Cosmo as she waits her turn in the shower. "Honey, are you do...."
"Oh, My GOD YES!!!!" bursting from the bathroom like some kind of wild beast, her husband appears, soaking wet, with shampoo dripping from his head down his shoulders, over his chest.
"I think I have a way to treat Mrs. Thompkins without killing her! If I combine BOTH targeted radiation therapy AND a cocktail of chemotherapy, they SHOULD work TOGETHER to kill the tumor while increasing her chances of survival!"
He rushes over to the bed, reaches out and plants a wet kiss on his wifes forehead. "I got to get to the hospital. Have you seen my pants?"
Chuckling over her husbands enthusiasm at his discovery she adds, "Uh, you might want to finish toweling off before getting dressed!"
Struggling to get his soppy pants off his leg...."I guess so..."
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