One Shot at Life

By William Scheiber

Everyone dreads a cancer diagnoses. The word itself strikes fear and hopelessness into those who are afflicted. When the disease targets the mother-in-law of veterinarian Bill Schneider, he is desperate to see her cured, so much so that he begins a simple treatment on some of his pet patients and is shocked when it works.

First, though, theres a question: just because Bills vaccine worked on animals, does that mean it will work on human beings, too? Frantic for a remedy, he treats his mother-in-law, and amazingly, his discovery saves her life. Word travels fast of Bills medical breakthrough, as people everywhere fear the loss of loved ones, too, and seek a miracle.

As word spreads of positive results, Bill is led down a path of questionable morals regarding illegal medical practices. The question becomes, is it more important to follow the law or save a life? Bills moral struggle could cost him a lot more than his practice; it could cost his freedom, but can you put a price on human survival?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Sep 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781480827233

William Scheiber

William Scheiber is a lifelong resident of Northern Indiana. He received his degree in Veterinary Medicine from Purdue University and is the owner of a busy small-animal practice. He and his wife Sue have three sons: Garrett, Seth, and Caleb. He enjoys the outdoors and spending time with his family.

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CHAPTER 1

Our Normal Life

I t was a normal morning, as normal as any morning with three kids can be. The alarm went off to the tune of Van Halen’s Jump and I was in the shower by 6 am. The kids had already had a bath the evening before so they were left to sleep in a bit. In the bathroom, Sue and I talked as we do each morning about how we’d slept, any dreams and the normal topics discussed in most homes between spouses in a morning. She reminded me of her mom’s doctor’s appointment later that day. Gloria, her mom, had been diagnosed years earlier with breast cancer and had been on several regimens of hormonal therapy to keep the masses small and prevent progression of the disease. In the past few months, her marker counts had risen gradually and that had raised concerns with both her and her doctors. Today was the day her doctor would review the most recent PET scan results with her and Sue’s dad, Max. This was always a tense day for all of us. Max had always been a very strong man who could hide concerns pretty well, but even he was obviously worried the last couple of times test results were interpreted to them by the doctor. Gloria was a person who would never make her own situation a topic of conversation. A very strong person, she would act like there were no problems regardless of the news. This was not a case of denial, but just a wonderful person who would not burden any one else with her situation. She didn’t want her problems to affect anyone else.

The day started as normal with the kids being awakened after our showers. Garrett, our eldest son at age seven, was a very active first grader who enjoyed school and thus woke with a start and was ready to get the day going. He was usually the easiest to get moving in the morning. Seth, on the other hand was a sleep loving four-year-old who was never the first awake unless it was Christmas or the morning of a big event in his life. He would jump out of bed on days we would be visiting grandma or going to the zoo for instance. He usually needed much help getting his clothes on, as the sleep mechanism had not released him yet. Our third child, Caleb was two years old and was variable in his sleep patterns. Some days he would be the first up at 5 am and other days you couldn’t pry him from the sheets without a fight. This morning went as usual with Garrett waking up well and the other two fighting the morning. It would have helped to have the sun peeking in their windows, but daylight savings time had not allowed that to happen these days. Breakfast was usually fast and easy with delicacies such as toast, cereal or yogurt being served.

My day continued with a short drive to the office. Being a veterinarian, I was never short of things to do once I got there. There were always the cases from the day before that had to be finished or re-evaluated, the paperwork that never ended, or the preparations that had to be made for the incoming cases. Normal stuff encountered by all who are lucky enough to be in my profession. The staff would trickle in at about 7:30 am. Soon, the office would be bustling with a variety of people, patients and duties.

Sue would start her day as a receptionist by hospitalizing the surgeries and then handling the hoards of clients showing up for appointments, buying medications or seeking information. Phone calls could involve anything from a person checking the prices of goods and services to an emergency needing to be seen immediately. Her job was to be the friendly face or voice of me before the clients actually see me personally. Sue had other tasks at hand daily such as picking up Seth after preschool and taking him to the babysitter, running errands for both the family and office, and various school activities related to Garrett’s class. She was an amazingly organized person who handled all of the chores needed to be done daily.

The rest of the staff included Dr. Jacob Jones, the other staff veterinarian; two registered veterinary technicians, five assistants, three kennel helpers and another receptionist. We all served as a type of extended family in that we all knew each other’s triumphs and problems very shortly after the true family did.

The morning started with the case of a dog that had been hit by a car the night before and the owner had elected to wait until morning before having it examined. After several x-rays, a femoral fracture was discovered and repair was scheduled for later in the morning. This particular day’s appointments rang true to form with more than half of them being vaccination appointments. One cat required blood work to determine if it’s anorexia could be attributed to a more severe problem within. Drawing blood was always an enjoyable task, especially after the owner informs you that, This cat is not friendly with anyone but me. Melinda, the most experienced of our two veterinary technicians, is a true cat person and therefore gets to handle every fractious feline that enters our doors. Precious, as the cat was appropriately named, was historically a cat of considerable weight, but as of late she had dropped some pounds. Weight loss also makes the blood draw interesting, as there is extra skin, no flesh and an abundance of bony tissue to deal with. After some scratches, a few attempted bites and a multitude of attempts at hitting the vein, we finally had blood to analyze. I discovered that the cat was not only diabetic, but was experiencing kidney failure. The bad news of the diagnosis would mean that the owner would have to make the decision to treat the two diseases or humanely euthanize the animal. Treatment would require time, money and commitment on the owner’s part, but would render no guarantees as to the outcome or quality of life for the cat. The treatment would also require immediate placement of an I.V. catheter and starting I.V. fluids. After discharge, her owner could expect to give medications daily for the duration of the cat’s life, as well as periodic re-checking of the blood work to monitor success of the regimen. Subconsciously everyone in the clinic dreaded the words, Let’s give it a try, Doc. It would be a very tough case, but the owner was happy to let us try and fix her Precious.

As Precious was voicing her displeasure in the background, I started the task of repairing the dog’s fractured leg. This would require quite a bit of time and therefore quickly became priority one on my list of surgeries. After Tiffany, the other technician anesthetized Snoopy, she would shave the fur from the entire leg and anywhere that might be near the surgical field. Next the site was scrubbed to remove all bacteria and other contaminants from the skin. Once the leg was draped and ready, it was time to earn my salary. I made the initial incision through the skin and then continued deeper through the muscle layers to reveal the broken bone. In veterinary school, they focused on the procedure of repairing the fractured bones. They left out the part about how there would be massive swelling, blood and clots distorting the entire view. Each veterinarian learns this as they repair their first fracture. This fracture was no different. A huge clot and swelling made the visualization of the bones more difficult. No big deal, I had learned how to work around it. Both ends of the fracture were exposed; the correct sized pin was selected and inserted. After pin placement, all that was left to do was the suturing. A post-op x-ray showed excellent alignment. I strutted around the surgery suite with my chest puffed out more for the humor of the staff rather than a true sense of pride, but it does feel good to know that I fixed this dog’s leg. Good ol’ Snoopy would be bouncing around as usual after six to eight weeks of rest. As I finished, I once again heard the wails of Precious as she voiced her displeasure to those working on her.

It’s amazing how a schedule can initially look so ominous only to be cut down to size gradually as each case gets addressed. As in other busy days, this one was falling into place with each case getting attention incrementally as test results came in or procedures were finished. It was a game of veterinary leapfrog where one case received our attention while it’s new results were read only to be leaped by another case with the next results. As new information came in regarding each case, it would be the one receiving our attention. That is, until Sue or Nicole, the other receptionist, would come by with a plethora of questions, refill requests or tasks initiated by phone calls. My mind was always full of things to work out each day.

CHAPTER 2

Gloria

I t was going to be a busy day for Gloria. She would finally get to hear how the PET scan had turned out. As she and Max entered the room, the mood was one of hope. After a wait of about fifteen minutes, Dr. Saunders entered the room. His face showed the results as he entered the room.

Doc, you’re not smiling much, Max said in an uneasy voice.

Well, I didn’t mean to be that obvious. I did look over the results and they weren’t what I’d hoped for. You have several new lumps. One here (he pointed at an area on his own chest), one more on the liver and another within your lung, about here (once again, he pointed on his own chest). This mass has also grown to about twice the size it was before. I know this all sounds ominous, but we’ll see what can be done.

Do you think there is a chance to beat this stuff or am I just going to gradually whither? Gloria asked.

I can’t answer that. I do know you are still strong and you’re a good candidate for anything we have to work with. I will suggest you see a specialist in Indianapolis. They have the most up-to-date treatments and technology. They’ll give you the best chances of beating this.

As he continued, he really didn’t sound all that optimistic. He talked about the potential side effects Gloria could anticipate with further, more aggressive treatment. The drive home was dominated by silence. Periodically, Gloria would question as to how they should tell the kids or whether the doctors at Indianapolis really could help. It was decided that they should invite the kids to their house and tell them all at the same time. Telling this story once would be enough.

Soon it was lunchtime in the clinic. We staggered lunches in order to keep the doors open during the lunch hour. We do a lot of business during that time so it doesn’t pay to have the office close for lunch. It was the most important hour of the day for most of the employees. Time to get personal errands done, make phone calls and maybe even eat. My lunch hour usually consisted of catching up on bookwork, re-evaluating the cases, or returning phone calls. Sue would usually pick up some type of sandwich to tide me over until our evening meal. During her lunch hour, Sue received a call on her cell phone. It was Max relaying the news that Gloria’s PET scan results were not as favorable as he had hoped. Not much more information was given other than the fact that we should come over that evening and get the details. Sue had been on edge since her mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

It had been a long road since that day five years before when the cancer was discovered in her breast. Gloria’s first visit revealed that there were lumps in her right breast. After a biopsy, it was determined that it was indeed cancer. The doctor had ordered an MRI to make sure the breast was the only site of the disease. Yet again, the news was not what the family or doctor had hoped for. There was an area in the liver, which appeared to be an additional site of metastasis. A bone scan revealed that at least they were clear. These visits would start the path of medication and concern over the next four years.

The medication started with a hormonal drug called Femara. It was actually found to reduce certain types of breast cancer and arrest their progression. It had few common side effects and was a once a day pill that could be taken at home. If it worked, it would be a dream come true with its ease of administration and absence of discomfort. It seemed that almost as fast as she was put on the drug, she improved with the palpable breast lesion seemingly disappearing. Later, test results confirmed that both the breast and liver sites had massive reductions in size. The success of the treatment made the disease seem less of an immediate concern and gave temporary relief to the family. We had not had to deal with cancer yet as a family and were just beginning to experience what most cancer patients and families go through. The highs of improvement followed by lows of reoccurrence would become a normalcy in our lives over the coming years. Not all tests were MRI’s and PET scans. The most common tests were blood tests measuring her cancer count. It was a marker test, which determined the activity of that particular type of cancer cell and gave it a number value for measurement. These were easy tests and they gave an indication of what was happening with the cancer without needing to do invasive or expensive tests. It seemed that all was falling into place and life could return to normal. That new level of normalcy would last for approximately three and a half years. As time went on, the marker counts slowly increased with each test. At first, the increases were slight and the levels were still seen as within normal limits. With time they would increase in larger increments and finally become a concern to the doctors. It was at this time that the doctors decided a new direction as far as treatment was warranted. As with all regimen changes, there needs to be baseline testing as far as the marker counts and PET scans are concerned. This gives the doctor a basis for determining if the treatment is effective. If the subsequent testing shows a reduction in the size of the tumor or a reduction in the marker counts, it is deemed effective. If no reductions are seen, a new course of therapy may be ordered. That is how many treatment regimens are developed. There was no surprise in this case, a new direction was needed.

The doctors decided to go with a different regimen using an injectable drug. It was a drug that would be given in the muscle once monthly. Technically it was not a chemotherapeutic drug, but again a hormone. This drug never seemed to have the efficacy the doctors desired and thus we were back to the question of where to go from here. Decisions would need to be made in a timely fashion.

When she returned from lunch, Sue hinted that she needed to talk to me.

Bill, she said, I got a call from dad. They evidently don’t have good news because they want to talk to us tonight.

Why do you think its bad news? They might have something good to report.

Well, she said, Dad doesn’t call on the cell phone unless he has to. He was subdued and mom didn’t offer to chat.

Her dad had trouble with the cell phone in that the combination of his poor hearing, poor reception and the shape of the phone made it almost impossible to carry an intelligent conversation. He usually gave the phone to Gloria.

Well, let’s just see what they have to say tonight before we decide good versus bad.

The drive home was pretty normal except for the fact that the earlier conversation was still on my mind. What were they going to say? Was this the big talk about funeral arrangements and such? Was it the chat about a living will? How would Sue take all of this? Wow, this could really be bad, I thought to myself. When I walked in the door at home, the kids were their normal active selves. Seth and Garrett each had a truck and were running them around the house’s wooden floors. Caleb had a noisy musical toy that, when added to the truck sounds, was as mind numbing as it gets. Living with this noise over the years makes you immune to it. Visitors are not as used to it though and they usually ask how we maintain our sanity. Sue fixed a quick meal and we were off to her parents’ house for our talk.

CHAPTER 3

The Meeting

T he gravity of the situation took another turn in the fact that all of Sue’s brothers and their wives were also at this meeting. Tim had driven down from Fort Wayne; a distance of about thirty miles while Brian had driven up from around Indianapolis, a distance of about one hundred miles. Dread was in the air tonight and the tension could have been cut with a knife. The boys played in the living room as we in the kitchen were told just how serious this trip to the doctor’s office had been.

Well, Gloria began, We found out that the lump in my liver is about twice the size it was four months ago. My breast lump is more active and there were several new lumps on the PET scan.

Where are the new lumps? asked Sue.

There is one in my left lung, one at a new site in the liver and a new one in the same breast, but at a different site as the first one, said Gloria.

Did the doctor say what he wanted to do at this point? Is chemo an option? asked Tim.

They did say there still were options as far as treatment is concerned. There are several regimens routinely used in cases like mine, but it definitely would be a much more difficult road than we have been on to this point. I’d lose my hair. I’d be much more debilitated and have many more side effects, replied Gloria, fighting tears.

The entire room was quiet for a moment. Max quietly walked to the living room to check on the boys. We knew he really just needed to escape from what was being revealed to the family. By this time, enough had been said for us to realize that this was a fight that could possibly be lost. It was our first thoughts of anything but full recovery. My thoughts on the trip home from the office were nothing like what actually happened. They were better.

We’ve been referred to a doctor in Indianapolis. They say he is the best in these cases. We go down there Monday at 2:30pm. We’ll see what he has to say, said Max after returning from the living room.

After more discussion of the appointment, hugs and tears, the dreaded meeting was over and the trip home started. The kids all asked why everyone was sad. We told them Grandma was sick, but the doctors hopefully would make her all better. I wished it were that easy.

That night’s sleeping conditions would prove to be lousy. Neither Sue nor I had any hope of drifting off quickly and leaving the stress. We were both worriers as my mom called anyone who took problems to bed with them. Problems are always magnified in the quiet time before slumber. The problem of Gloria’s cancer needed no magnification to cause sleep loss. Sue finally rolled over and said,

Have you even been to sleep yet?

No, I said, I can’t get your dad’s face out of my head.

Why dad’s?

Because he looked like he had lost all hope. I tried all night to see some glimmer of hope in either of their faces and there was none. No humor to try and feel better. No reaction to our feeble attempts at humor. That’s why I’m really worried that maybe they aren’t even telling us everything.

Oh, don’t you think they told us enough? Hell, we don’t need more, Sue said.

I wasn’t saying they needed to tell us more, I just think they might be trying to ease us in a little at a time. Their faces just didn’t match the words as they were talking. Remember your mom’s comment about it just being a bump in the road? I was looking at your dad when she said that. It isn’t a bump to him. He’s scared, I replied.

Well, let’s not talk about this any more. It isn’t helping.

I know at least one of us was awake at all times that night. Thinking of how life would change in the next weeks, months or years for that matter. We didn’t know enough about what to expect yet. They really were holding something back. In what seemed to be five minutes since our heads hit the pillows, Van Halen once again stirred us from our sheets. It was time to face another day. Much different than yesterday at this time, today couldn’t be worse, could it? Time to get the kids going.

The clinic was abuzz with activity as usual, although I was still in a fog, wondering what would happen next with Gloria. Paying attention required great concentration. All morning I attempted to reassure Sue that all would be okay, but the point was probably moot.

How you doin’, you hangin’ in there? I’d ask periodically.

I’m fine. Quit asking! she’d reply.

If you want, I’m sure everyone would understand if you left early.

I haven’t told anyone yet, so they probably would ask a lot of questions and I’m not ready for that.

I told Jones and Melinda so far, and they really didn’t need details.

Yeah, but I know the first time someone asks something, I’ll lose it.

Well, if you need to go, just head out and I’ll explain after you’re gone.

Okay. We’ll see how the day goes.

I plodded through the day giving few signs of there being a significant problem, I thought. I felt we had hidden our emotions pretty well until Amy pulled me aside and said.

Are you and Sue okay?

We’re fine. Sue’s mom got some crappy news at the oncologist yesterday and we haven’t had time to deal with it yet.

What happened? Is the cancer back?

Yeah, they said the main masses are larger and there are new ones in her breast, liver and lung.

Oh, Doc, we’ve been wondering all day. Sue’s not bubbly and you haven’t laughed all day. Is there anything we can do? Do you guys need anything? she offered.

No. We don’t really even know the specifics of what is going to happen in the next few weeks or months. I’ll keep everybody informed as we get news. I’ll bet we’ll need something later down the road.

Well, just ask, and I’m sure everyone will help in any way possible.

I’m going to remember that when we need a babysitter for the wild ones, I teased.

We both chuckled a little on that thought. My kids had the reputation of being very active to say the least. We always tried to get two babysitters to watch them when we were out. It seemed like the nicer thing to do. We even joked about needing one babysitter per kid.

The rest of the day ran smoothly and by the end of the day, everyone in the clinic knew why we were subdued. Once again, the Jeep provided me with a quiet place to think on the way home. This time I wondered about new or untested therapies or procedures. How could I find out who was on the cutting edge? Would the Internet provide that information to any Joe Schmoe that inquired? I thought about it all the way home and decided that if nobody else was looking into it, then it would be my job.

CHAPTER 4

A Trip to the Internet

O nce I got home, I told Sue of my plan. She was cautious in her excitement, but supported me anyway. As always I first sat down to read the paper and see what else had happened in the last twenty-four hours in our world. Reading the paper in our house was more a study in concentration while having large volumes of noise and activity in the background. Many times it was more a reading of the headlines. Little did I know that this paper would be the beginning of a new possibility. A possibility that could replace the hope that had left us some twenty-four hours ago.

The paper had all the usual articles on the front two pages; Terrorist plots, political stories, accidents and obituaries. On page three, however, was a story about a vaccine for Human Papilloma Virus. The headlines read New Cancer Vaccine Available Locally. I thought how great it would be to be able to vaccinate people for cancer. Just go and get vaccinated for every form of cancer that is out there. I’d be in line for that! I brought up the article as I read it to Sue.

Hey, here in the paper it says that if you get vaccinated for H. P. V. you won’t get cervical cancer. Is that right? I asked.

Yeah, but that is a whole different circumstance. The virus causes a majority of that type of cancer. You aren’t vaccinating for the cancer, you’re vaccinating for the virus that causes the cancer, she replied.

I know, but wouldn’t it be great if they could use something like that on cancer itself?

It would be great, but it isn’t here now. I think that’s a generation away.

I don’t know. They’re working every angle. Think how far it’s come in the last twenty years. Heck, the last ten years.

If you’re thinking that this will some how help Mom, don’t get your hopes up. Her cancer is nothing like that. You know that.

I know, but I remember when I was helping out Dr. Stall in the clinic way back when, he had autogenous vaccines made for hog farmers. He’d have them bring in pigs that had died from something, take tissue samples and make a vaccine specific to the farm’s strain of that disease. Stuff like E. coli, Strep and Staph. Granted, those are all bacteria and not living human tissue, but still I’d think it would work if you did it right.

There you go. That can be your new project. Stir up some pig guts and make a cure for cancer, Sue offered sarcastically.

"I didn’t mean I’d do it. I just wondered why no one else had thought of that, or if they had, had they made any progress? I mean, in Vet School, they always said the immune system was powerful and that it can kill anything. You know, we see autoimmune hemolytic anemias, thrombocytopenias and lupus type problems. Hell, if they can destroy normal tissues from their own body, why not abnormals?"

I’m sure someone is working on it. If you’ve thought of it, so have a hundred other people. Boys, get ready for dinner!

That was the end of that discussion. With that, we sat down to the newest form of parent torture– mealtime. The kids were as active at the dinner table as they were in a gym. One picks on another and the third sings a song. Eating was secondary until mom or dad made it a big deal. Food became building blocks, airplanes and once in a while clothing decoration. Eventually they all ate and dinner was over. It was good to have the distraction of the boys. They kept everything in perspective.

After dinner, it was bath time in our household. Two kids and a parent in a small, hot area with splashing water and noise, what a great time! It truly was fun. Afterwards, it was time for reading books or telling stories before bedtime. This would help to wind them down a bit before attempts at sleeping. Usually, the kids would be in bed by 8:30 pm unless one or more of them succeeded in prolonging the inevitable. It was the hours between 9:00 pm and 11:00 pm when Sue and I could regroup and have some quiet time. We could watch T.V. (other than cartoons), read a book or even just talk. That night I chose to get on the Internet and look into how vaccines for cervical cancer might help Gloria.

It was a long shot, but at least I felt I was trying or at least keeping my mind working. The frustration of having the slowest Internet service in the world coupled with the slowest computer made it easy to not dwell on other negative things in my life. I could always count on the computer to make other problems disappear. It was horrible. Cuss words were muttered often, some loud enough to cause me