My body must have been getting used to the training because I didn’t wake up sore the next morning. I did a half hour of morning stretching anyways. It was a relaxing way to start the day and with work starting next week, I wouldn’t get the chance to do it for much longer. I skipped the ten minutes of meditation at the end because there was no way that I could empty my mind of my thoughts and worries of the day. Today was The Auction!

I’d been avoiding thinking about it because the anticipation was killing me. With the lower end of the expected selling price of the gemstones set at a little over eleven million dollars and the upper end in the mid-twenty million range, there was only upside and excitement. Even a quarter of the lower end was more than enough to get going and I couldn’t wait to get started.

Shauna had set up six office buildings for me to visit next week and had a few more interesting options for me that she was keeping to herself, depending on the outcome of the auction. She had also interviewed potential receptionists, marketing and public relations directors, legal and governmental advisors, psychologists and medical specialists. Some of these would be full-time employees and some of them would be on retainer, meaning that they would be available to us when we needed them. Shauna’s organization skills were quite incredible and once the money came in, and I chose our new offices, we would hit the ground running.

The auction was set for late afternoon and my rubies were the final item for bid. Jake had finalized the deal with Christie’s for the auction and as the stones were being sold on behalf of the charity, they had agreed to donate back 25% of their fees to the Hannah Foundation. Jake had played Christie’s off against their top rival, Sotheby’s, to get the donation and he had to let Sotheby’s auction the large emerald that I’d found as consolation prize. The emerald was going on auction next week and that one was going to me in my name. It wasn’t the largest raw emerald ever found in North Carolina, but the master faceter that Jake had hired to cut had been able to minimize the amount that had to be cut from it and it was the largest cut emerald that had gone to auction from the state. Sotheby’s had appraised the stone at just under two and half million dollars. Not bad for an afternoon digging with friends!

With just over eight hours to go before the auction, I needed to keep myself busy. I drove out to the animal shelter again to check the new arrivals for cancer and only found a terrier with the blood cell cancer that I didn’t know how to remove. The dog park, just at the edge of Washington Park, ended up having three dogs that needed my attention and I got the opportunity to refine my skills. In two of the cases, I was able to get rid of all the cancer in under ten minutes. The third dog’s cancer was different in that it was right up against his spine. Tendrils of the cancer had even begun to surround it. Removing all of the cancer would be delicate work and I wasn’t sure if I could do it.

The main problem was that the foxhound was constantly moving. The mass seemed to be causing her a great deal of discomfort and she kept trying to find a position that didn’t hurt quite so much. If I could send her into L2 for an hour, I might be able to remove the cancer entirely. However, her human stayed with her the whole time, giving her plenty of attention, and I wasn’t able to make her disappear without flipping him out.

Before the dog and her human left the park and drove away, I was able to remove about ninety percent of the interior of the mass by simply forming a field inside the mass and sending it to L2. I didn’t know if it would be enough to ease her pain, much less kill off the cancer, but it was the best that I could do. I noted down the time and planned on returning to the park another day at this time. Maybe the park was part of their daily routine and I’d get another shot at helping the foxhound.

I left the dog park feeling unsatisfied and I knew that I was being too hard on myself. I’d helped two dogs and maybe I’d done some good for the third. I’d also gotten in more practice and improved my ability to help Evan. The scoreboard would definitely list the trip to the dog park as a win, but it didn’t feel like one.

With two hours before I had to meet Eva at the hospital, I headed home to do some more research on brain tumor removal. It usually takes about eleven years of training to become a neurosurgeon and that’s with experts training you every step of the way. I had a few days. Every little bit that I learned could come in useful and I only had a week, at the most, before I had to perform brain surgery. I watched video after video, taking in the list of problems that could occur with brain surgery before finally stopping to make myself lunch.

I was running late so I rode my bike in R2 the whole way to the hospital. Not having to slow down for anything was a real time saver and I beat Eva there by five minutes. On the way up to his room, I tried to prepare Eva for Evan’s weakened condition, but even I was stunned at how far he’d deteriorated in the past two days. When I’d last seen him, he’d still been the Evan that I knew. Tired looking and bedridden, but still Evan. Now, he was hooked up to half a dozen machines and it was obvious that they were the only reason that he was still alive. His body was shutting down.

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Evan’s mother came over and gently ushered us out. “It means a lot to us that you’ve come to visit him, but Tom and I want you to remember Evan the way he was. You shouldn’t see him this way.”

What do you say to that? How do you respond to a parent that is watching their child die right in front of them and no longer have any hope that he’ll make it. I didn’t know. With tears streaming down my face, I reached out to her and embraced her. She hugged me back fiercely and when she released me and returned to Evan’s bedside she was crying as well.

Through it all, from seeing Evan lying in his bed to watching his mom go back into his room, Eva hadn’t said a word. There was pain in her eyes and she was trying hard to hold in her emotions. She didn’t want to break down in front of Evan’ mom and add to her pain. I led her to an empty room down the corridor and sat her down in one of the visitor’s chairs. I sat down next to her and held her hand as tears quietly spilled down her cheeks.

“We used to do play all sorts of word games with our names. Combining them and making them into new rap artists. His favorite was EvanEva. Sometimes I’d pronounce his name like Heaven and he make something for me and say that is was forEva.” Eva sniffed and looked up at me. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, Abby. I though he had more time. I just hugged him and told him that I’d see him when I got back.” She grabbed me and I held her as the barrier that she’d used to hold back her grief came down.

I ached to tell her that there was still hope, that there might still be something that I could do to save him. The words wouldn’t come though. I couldn’t give her false hope. She was facing her loss now and it would break her to have to do it a second time. If I wasn’t able to help him, no one would ever even know that I’d tried.

We left the hospital together and made our way to our bikes. Eva was meeting James for a late lunch and as she rode away, I texted James about what happened and asked him to make sure that she’d be ok. Within seconds my phone was ringing and I gave a very worried James a slightly longer version than the text. He told me that he’d make sure she’s alright.

With Eva gone, I returned my bike to the stand and made my way back into the hospital. Evan’s steep decline had forced my hand. I didn’t feel like I was ready but if I didn’t do something now, then it would be too late. At this point, there didn’t seem to be any downside to trying. Even if I made a mistake, the outcome would only be changed by a matter of hours.

I shifted into R1 and slipped past a half open door to get into Evan’s room. His parents were on either side of his bed, each holding one of his hands. They were here alone for this final vigil. I sat down on the end of Evan’s bed. He was so small that I easily had enough room. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped Evan in a field and listened to all the alarms going off in my head. His body was in distress and I wasn’t sure that even the complete and immediate removal of the tumor would do any good. Hopefully, the machines keeping him alive would keep him with us long enough for his body to recover. It was going to be close.

I released my field surrounding Evan and sent one out to encompass his tumor. The tumor was different than the tumors that I’d removed from the dogs in that it wasn’t embedded in bone. It sat growing on and in his brain, interfering with his critical functions. The chemotherapy drugs had kept it at bay for awhile, but when those eventually failed, the tumor had started to take over.

I got to work and removed the tumor in sections. I didn’t worry about leaving tiny clumps of cancer cells on my first pass. I’d get those later. The first order of business was to stop the cancer from doing further damage. Very carefully, I sent more and more of the cancer into L2. It was a slow process because the cancer had wrapped itself around vital vessels in Evan’s brain and if I mistakenly removed even a small piece of those blood vessels, then he’d get bleeding in his brain and that could kill him in moments. I had no way of closing a blood vessel, so I took extra care.

As I moved out each section, I kept a close eye on his monitors, watching for any sudden blips that would tell me that I’d messed up. I could have wrapped him in another field and gotten much more accurate information, but all the alarms in my head would distract me from the job at hand. The monitors stayed quiet two solid hours while I worked. Had they been attached to me, those monitors would have been blaring at my increased heart rate and nurses would have come running in to see what was wrong.

Removing the cancer had left me feeling drained. Maintaining that level of focus was exhausting and I was covered in sweat. I’d been forced to leave some stray cancer cells behind, knowing that I’d have time to take them out before they could multiply sufficiently to cause Evan new harm. For now, I’d done all that I could.

I stood up and stretched and looked at Evan’s face for the first time in hours. He still looked awful. His condition hadn’t changed, and his parents were still at his side, only in different positions now. Prayers and grief had given away to the mundane tasks of eating and keeping the rest of the family up to date on his condition.

I wanted to stay and keep an eye on Evan, but I had to get home quickly. Dad had us all set to watch the auction as it unfolded and if I didn’t leave now, I’d be late. There was nothing more that I could accomplish by staying, so I left, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time that I saw Evan.