News From the Sawbones

Dr. Benton Dupont's office is next to the venerable Baton Rouge General Hospital, which was a state-of-the art facility when it opened WAAAY back before we could say: "If we can put a man on the moon...." etc. When it was built the country was still 3 or 4 years away from electing a young, dynamic President whose brutal appointment in Dallas could not even be envisioned. So, its of a different era. And, it looks it, too. Different from the gabled, flashy, Hilton-like hospitals on lakes that you see nowadays, "The General" squats within our slightly sketchy mid-city area like a aging professional wrestler.

I dig it.

Over the decades this white-bricked heavyweight has endured numerous renovations and updates, but you can still hear the theme from Ben Casey whenever it heaves into view. Now it's part of the LSU HealthCare System, which means it's part of the LSU Medical School hydra and, consequently, whenever you see Benton, he is trailed by an impossibly young human being wearing a tailored, starched white lab coat. This person is called a resident and I am told he is a graduate of some medical school somewhere but is probably like I was when I graduated from law school: I had a sheepskin but I didn't know dick. If he is as I was, then he's learning on me. I'm a teaching tool. Oddly enough, this leaves me feeling worthy as opposed to bothered.

In order to visit with Dr. Dupont, as I did on Monday of this week, you walk through the shiny doors of the new Physicians' Complex recently constructed next to the old hospital -- an incongruous pairing, really... like a pair of new Cole-Hahn shoes worn with an old, slightly frayed suit. The glass adjacent to his 4th Floor office door --through which you can see the halt and the lame sitting in his waiting room-- says: General Surgery -- Oncological Surgery.

Once you enter, you are struck by how relaxed everyone is pretending to be while--just below the visible surface--the room hums with nervous tension.

Anyway, I arrived for my latest once-over determined to explain why my next cancer surgery should be set for late April as opposed to the scheduling Dr. Dupont was suggesting, which was immediately or yesterday, if possible. After all, I had tons of stuff to do at work and I desperately wanted to accept my TLC Staff Assignment to the Regional in Seattle on the last weekend in March and I didn't want to be gimped up for that. I explained all of this to Benton, in great detail, who just stared at me. He's a taciturn guy. A riveting, eye contact listener.

When I was done he called for his nurse, Jane, and said: When's my next surgical opening?

March 18, Jane replied.

How's the 18th? Benton inquired.

Uhhhh.....well....had no one listened to my speech? That's a little quicker than I was hoping for, Doc, I said, further explaining the conflict I had on that particular day.

How about the 23rd? Jane asked.

Yes, that will do fine, I heard Dr. Dupont say.

Then, he riveted those eyes of his on me.

Jim, listen to what I am saying to you. You can't help your clients if you're dead. Right? You have an active malignancy which we failed to remove the first time. I really thought we'd gotten it all. We didn't. We didn't because it has spread farther and deeper than we had hoped. If we don't get it in the next bite---and I think I can, don't get me wrong---but, if we don't, it's a game changer. Hear what I am saying. Every day is important. We do not delay this sort of thing. We do it NOW. Not April. NOW. Understand me? And, you will not be able to travel for awhile after we do this. Believe me, you won't even feel like it. This is not something we can argue about or discuss. If it's not the 18th, it's the 23rd. OK?

After a short period of silence, while the resident stared at the lawyer lab rat to see how he would digest such a speech, I finally allowed as how---really, when you thought about it--the 23rd was a lovely day for a surgery.

And so it is.

--J.R.