Forever (Lair of the Wolven, The Book 2) by J.R. Ward EPUB & PDF- eBook Details Online
- Authors: J.R. Ward
- Language: English
- Genre: Vampire Romances
- Format: PDF/ EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
A VOLCANO ERUPTING IN the open jaw of a shark.
As Lydia Susi leaned into the monitor, one half of her brain identied the
image for what it was, a PET-CT scan of the chest of a twenty-nine-year-old
male with extensive stage small-cell lung cancer. The cross section, which cut the
patient’s rib cage in horizontal slices, showed the tumors in the right lung, which
seemed bigger to her, and two new masses on the left side.
Given that this was
both positron emission tomography with F-uorodeoxyglucose in conjunction
with computed tomography, the growths were well visualized, but also
appearing as hot spots given the highly metabolically active abnormal cells.
It was a very clear and helpful diagnostic picture of a dying man’s respiratory
landscape, and yet, her Ph.D. in biology aside—as well as forgetting about the
last six months of looking at similar images—she was nonetheless struggling to
stay connected to what she was looking at and what it all meant: i.e., that the
traditional immunotherapy, just like the chemotherapy, hadn’t worked.
“Daniel…” she whispered as the doctor beside her cued up the next cut and
continued to drone on.
Instead of properly processing any of the information, her brain continued to
treat the slideshow as a Rorschach test of avoidance, her thoughts skipping away
from the grim news to pull random pictures out of the oblong frame of redtinted shadows and yellow-and-orange clouds. It wasn’t stage four cancer runamok, no, absolutely not.
It was a rst-generation video game, where you could
drop a crudely pixelated soldier onto an alien planet and use the boulders of
tumor growth to take cover behind while blocky monsters chunked around and
tried to eat you. No, wait, it was a plate in a psychedelic buet line, with only the
baby new potatoes part of the Grateful Dead entrée having been spooned on.
How about Jackson Pollock, in his little-known oncology period? Sofa slipcover
pattern? Bowl of fruit.
The visual extrapolation that nally stuck was that of a volcano, her mental
cracked-up-Krakatoa seated where the spine formed a little triangular notch on
the bottom of the chest cavity’s slice, the ghostly point of the vertebra seeming
to launch an eruption that was tinted with that angry Kool-Aid red and the
comic strip yellow and the autumn hearth orange, the whole of it contained
within an outline that reminded her of that scene in Jaws, when Chief Brody
goes to Quint’s to hire the contractor to kill the shark.
All those boiled, open jawbones hanging around, their graceful contours like
the shape of the rib cage.
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