Chromosome 6. Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
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MARCH 5, 1997
6:45 P.M.
NEW YORK CITY
‘THIS is the damndest thing,’ Jack said. He was peering into his
microscope at one particular slide and had been doing so intently for
the previous half hour. Chet had tried to talk with him but had given
up. When Jack was concentrating, it was impossible to get his attention.
‘I’m glad you are enjoying yourself,’ Chet said. He’d just stood up in
preparation to leave and was about to heft his briefcase.
Jack leaned back and shook his head. ‘Everything about this case is
screwy.’ He looked up at Chet and was surprised to see he had his coat
on. ‘Oh, are you leaving? ‘
‘Yeah, and I’ve been trying to say goodbye for the last fifteen
minutes.’
‘Take a look at this before you go,’ Jack said. He motioned toward his
microscope as he pushed away from the desk to give Chet room.
Chet debated. He checked his watch. He was due at his gym for a seven
o’clock aerobics class. He’d had his eye on one of the girls who was a
regular. In an effort to build up the courage to approach her, he’d been
taking the class himself. The problem was that she was in far better
shape than he, so that at the end of the class he was always too winded
to talk.
‘Come on, sport,’ Jack said. ‘Give me your golden opinion.’
Chet let go of his briefcase, leaned over, and peered into the eyepieces
of Jack’s microscope. With no explanation from Jack, he first had to
figure out what the tissue was. ‘So, you’re still looking at this frozen
section of liver,’ he said.
‘It’s been entertaining me all afternoon,’ Jack said.
‘Why not wait for the regular fixed sections?’ Chet said. ‘These frozen
sections are so limiting.’
‘I’ve asked Maureen to get them out as soon as she can,’ Jack said. ‘But
meanwhile this is all I have. What do you think of the area under the
pointer?’
Chet played with the focus. One of the many problems with frozen
sections was they were often thick and the cellular architecture
appeared fuzzy.
‘I’d say it looks like a granuloma,’ Chet said. A granuloma was the
cellular sign of chronic, cell-mediated inflammation.
‘That was my thought as well,’ Jack said. ‘Now move the field over to
the right. It will show a part of the liver surface. What do you see
there?’
Chet did as he was told, while worrying that if he was late to the gym,
there wouldn’t be a spot in the aerobics class. The instructor was one
of the most popular.
‘I see what looks like a large, scarred cyst,’ Chet said.
‘Does it look at all familiar?’ Jack asked.
‘Can’t say it does,’ Chet said. ‘In fact, I’d have to say it looks a
little weird.’
‘Well said,’ Jack remarked. ‘Now, let me ask you a question.’
Chet raised his head and looked at his office mate. Jack’s domed
forehead was wrinkled with confusion.
‘Does this look like a liver that you’d expect to see in a relatively
recent transplant?’
‘Hell, no!’ Chet said. ‘I’d expect some acute inflammation but certainly
not a granuloma. Especially if the process could be seen grossly as
suggested by the collapsed surface cyst.’
Jack sighed. ‘Thank you! I was beginning to question my judgment. It’s
reassuring to hear you’ve come to the same conclusion.’
‘Knock, knock!’ a voice called out.
Jack and Chet looked up to see Ted Lynch, the director of the DNA lab,
standing in the doorway. He was a big man, almost in Calvin Washington’s
league. He’d been an all-American tackle for Princeton before going on
to graduate school.
‘I got some results for you, Jack,’ Ted said. ‘But I’m afraid it’s not
what you want to hear, so I thought I’d come down and tell you in
person. I know you’ve been thinking you’ve got a liver transplant here,
but the DQ alpha was a perfect match, suggesting it was the patient’s
own liver.’
Jack threw up his hands. ‘I give up,’ he said.
‘Now there was still a chance it was a transplant,’ Ted said. ‘There are