Knowing that a conference call was to occur sometime in the next couple of hours I had Mitzi drive to Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). Interstate 10 from Palm Springs occupies the first hour and fifteen minutes of the trip. No sooner were we in the car I received a phone call from my son-in-law, Shawn Duke, a sergeant in the LAPD and Candi's husband. He told me he had heard from Candi and that she was going to try to get a flight to Sydney that night as well. I tried to talk him out of it; tried to convince him that they should wait until I had additional information. He reminded me how strong willed my daughter was, how determined she seemed to be about this and essentially told me there was no way to stop her. In fact, she was already driving from her home in Ladera Ranch to LAX and was depending on Shawn to get her a ticket on any flight out that night. He wished me luck and asked me to phone him once I was at the airport.
I then received a text message from Mag letting me know that the conference call was going to be taking place in the next 45 minutes. Knowing I had some time I phoned my 79 year old mother in Wimberley, Texas to let her know what I knew, which wasn't very much. I also heard from Shawn again, notifying me that he had found Candi a seat on a flight on V Australia Airlines that was leaving LAX close to the same time as my Qantas flight but she had to be routed through Melbourne and would arrive in Sydney about 4 hours after my flight.
Just as we passed Beaumont on the I-10 my mobile phone rang. I found that I was connected to a speaker phone in a conference room at St. George's and that there were quite a few voices in the background. The combination of the mobile phone that I had and the speaker phone on the other end made for significant difficulty in hearing what was being said. The speaker was a critical care physician from St. George's and she identified the others in the room as another physician, a surgeon, a social worker, Robin, Melissa, Mag and Joanne (Jo), Geoff's girlfriend of the last 3 years. She began the conversation by telling me that my son was "very sick". My mind was spinning at light speed: Why was there a social worker on the call? It had only been about an hour since I heard that Geoff was being taken in to surgery so why was he out so soon? Why was it so difficult to hear these people? Why do they keep saying that my son is very sick?
I had to beg the caller to wait for me to pull off the freeway so that I could try to understand what was being said without, at least, the road noise combined with the less than satisfactory connection, the mobile phone, the speaker phone and all the background voices. They obliged while Mitzi pulled off the freeway into a Chevron station in Calimesa and parked against a wall in the furthest corner of the parking lot.
The conversation began anew "Mr. Loe, your son is a very sick boy (there was that expression again). He was brought in to St. George's by ambulance very early this morning and admitted to hospital in cardiac arrest. He had collapsed at home and while the paramedics were en route, CPR was being performed by his mother and aunt (Robin and Mag). He did not have a heartbeat when he arrived at hospital. He is currently on 100% oxygen and 100% support. He has had 2 surgeries. The first was a type of endoscopy because we had a blood test that indicated a high degree of belief that Geoff has internal bleeding. The endoscopy indicated a dark area surrounding his spleen so the decision was made to remove his spleen. When we attempted the spleenectomy we found that there were numerous areas of internal hemorrhage, including a large fissure at the back of his stomach. We attempted to pack his abdomen and found that even with the packing we could not stop the bleeding." Mind you, I was probably hearing every other word of this given the poor connection, speaker phone with all the background noise and the roar of the freeway across the parking lot.
I think I understood far too well what they were telling me but seemingly did not want to say the words that would eliminate my hopefulness. I interrupted the doctor and wondered aloud if I could ask some questions. "How long do you think Geoff was without a heartbeat" I first queried. "At least 30 minutes and perhaps as long as 50 minutes" was the direct response. "Explain to me the meaning of 100% support please" was my followup. "We have Geoff on a heart and lung support system that is keeping his heart beating and aiding in his respiration" came the reply. "What sort of brain function do you think he has?" came my next interrogatory. "We don't believe he has any. His pupils are fully dilated and we can get no response stimulating his nervous system" was the gut wrenching answer. "How long can he survive if you take him off the support?" was my rapid retort. "No more than 2 minutes" was the brutally honest response. "In fact, we are not sure he can survive more than a couple of hours more, in any event" was the followup by the nameless voice on the other end of the phone. "Then I don't see that there is any point" was my final statement during this give and take. At that, there were the unmistakable cries and sobs of mothers and sisters and aunties whose hearts were broken. Mercifully, someone took over the speaker phone and made the statement "I don't think anything more of intelligence is going to come from this conversation". I blurted something into the phone to try to convey my love and concern for everyone in the room but I have no idea if it was heard or understood.
I was left to my own thoughts and conversation with Mitzi the balance of the journey to LAX. So what happened? Did my son have a heart attack? There is not a significant history of heart disease in our family. We had never been told he had any kind of heart condition. Did he have a stroke? I was aware that he had complained of tonsillitis within the past couple of weeks but it seemed innocuous enough. In the background of my consciousness was the understanding that Geoff had been diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma in November, 2007. He underwent a standard course of chemotherapy for some months in early 2008 and then directed radiation therapy. He had all the prescribed follow up tests and was thought to be in total remission. Could this somehow be related? How could the Lymphoma come back this strong and fast if in fact it did? It was also true that he was involved in Brazillian Jiu Jitsu training and had achieved a level of physical fitness he had not seen in years, if ever. How could a seemingly healthy, happy, hard working, fun loving, extremely likable young man who loved his parents and family and was loved and adored by them be snatched away like this? It didn't make any sense. No sense at all.
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