The First One's Always the Hardest

         "It's been this kinda burning feeling right below my ribs, Doc. Like the top of my stomach's on fire all the time. I been drinking tons a water, but it don't seem to get any better," Ray said.

         Doctor Linwood only sat there for a moment, nervously twisting his pen in his hand, staring at the patients chart lying open in front of him on the counter top. The first one's never easy, his Chief Resident told him that, but he'd never appreciated it until now, until he found himself avoiding the eyes of the man sitting across from him.

         Sensing something incomplete in the conversation, Ray continued. "Um...It's been for about the last two months, and,"

         Doctor Linwood looked up to the patient quickly and, before he could loose his nerve, said, "Mr. Hamlin, I have bad news."

         "Oh. What's that?" And, seeing the look in the doctor's eyes, it was his turn to shift nervously on the paper-covered bed.

         "The symptoms you've described all fit the pattern of gastric reflux, however the scan we did of your abdomen revealed a very large tumor at the base of your esophagus." He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He hoped the patient wouldn't see the front of his lab-coat moving from it.

         "So can't you operate? Take it out? My mother had a tumor in her breast and they cut it off. She wasn't happy about it, but she got to live another twenty years. Can't you do that?"

         Doctor Linwood looked back to the floor as he spoke. "I'm afraid the tumor's too large for it to be excised. I doubt you'd live through the surgery, sir." Why did I ever decide on medicine? My brother's making seventy-thousand dollars a year selling cars, and he's never had to tell someone they're going to die. I wonder if they have any openings at his dealership?