Chapter 301: Benign
Frank had originally planned to go to the hospital alone, quietly, for a checkup.
Plans, however, rarely survive reality.
Instead, he ended up coughing up blood, passing out, and getting rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.
To examine the suspected testicular cancer, the doctors performed several procedures while Frank was unconscious—shaving the area, prepping it, and then using a massive syringe to extract a tissue sample.
Thankfully, Frank had been out cold. Otherwise, it would've been absolute hell. Getting a needle shoved there—and without anesthesia—was no joke.
Even so, when Frank woke up, he could still feel it. A dull, lingering ache that made him very aware something unpleasant had happened downstairs.
"What about the results?" Sammi asked nervously.
"The biopsy came back negative," the doctor said, looking down at the chart. "The tumor is benign. There's no sign of malignancy, no progression, and no immediate danger. Even if it's left alone, it won't cause serious problems. That said, we still recommend surgical removal as soon as possible."
"That's great, Dad!"
The kids burst into cheers the moment they heard the word benign.
"Benign…?"
Frank froze for a second.
He'd only just regained consciousness, and before the doctor could properly explain anything, the kids had already rushed in. This was the first he was hearing of it too.
Relief washed over his face.
He'd been tormented by the thought of cancer for a long, long time—convinced he was at a late or even terminal stage, just like Walter. To find out it was benign felt unreal.
"Wait," Frank said suddenly, the joy fading as quickly as it had come.
If the tumor was benign and had no real effect on his body…
Then what about all the symptoms he'd been experiencing?
The swollen ankles.
The vomiting blood.
The loss of appetite.
If it wasn't cancer causing those, then what was?
"Mr. Gallagher," the doctor said carefully, choosing his words, "based on your history, you've been drinking heavily for over forty years. Your liver can no longer handle it. Even if you stop drinking now, you won't be able to extend your life."
"Liver…?"
Everyone in the room froze.
So the blood, the collapse, the worsening condition—it hadn't been the cancer at all.
It was his liver.
It was the alcohol.
And judging from the doctor's tone, the situation was extremely serious.
"Doctor…" Sammi began, trying to guide him out of the room, clearly hoping the discussion wouldn't happen in front of Frank.
"It's fine. Just say it here," Frank said with a faint smile. "I've been mentally prepared for this for a long time."
Whether it was cancer or the liver, to him, it didn't make much difference anymore.
"Mr. Gallagher likely doesn't have much time left," the doctor said as gently as he could.
In other words—Frank was dying.
"How much time?" Sammi asked, her voice trembling.
"Not much," the doctor replied. "It's reached the point where you should start preparing for the end."
"Dad!"
Debbie burst into tears and threw her arms around Frank. Carl hugged him too, saying nothing, his expression heavy and subdued.
Little Chuckie, who had intellectual disabilities and didn't fully understand what was happening, saw Carl hugging Frank and copied him—wrapping his small arms around Frank's leg.
"What exactly is the illness?" Fiona asked, forcing herself to stay calm.
"Primarily cirrhosis of the liver," the doctor explained. "It's the result of long-term damage that was never treated. After more than forty years of drinking, his liver has been pushed far beyond its limits. Honestly, the fact that he's lasted this long is almost a miracle."
"Cirrhosis has caused a series of complications," the doctor continued. "Loss of detoxification and excretory function, ascites, variceal bleeding, hepatic encephalopathy, kidney damage… The swelling in his legs is also a direct result of liver failure."
The meaning was clear: the end was near.
"There's really no treatment?" Sammi asked.
"I'm very sorry," the doctor shook his head. "The cirrhosis is too advanced. Even if he stopped drinking now, it's already too late."
The kids covered their mouths, eyes red, faces filled with grief.
After giving a few final instructions, the doctor left the room.
"Doctor— is there anything we can do?" Fiona chased after him into the hallway.
"At this stage," the doctor said, "the best thing is to keep him comfortable. You may want to consider hospice care."
Not long ago, Frank had accompanied Grandma to a hospice facility because of her cancer. He never imagined that the same path would reach him so soon.
"There's really no treatment at all? Nothing?" Fiona pressed.
"There is one option," the doctor said after a moment's thought.
"What is it?" Fiona grabbed his arm instinctively, then quickly let go. "Sorry."
"It's all right," the doctor said. "Your father's liver damage is too severe to recover. The only possible treatment is a liver transplant."
"That means removing the diseased liver and transplanting a new one," he continued. "The surgery carries significant risks, including rejection and immune complications afterward—but it's the only path forward."
"Then do a transplant!" Fiona said urgently. "Money isn't a problem—whatever it costs!"
"It's not that simple," the doctor replied. "A liver transplant requires a compatible donor. Not just any liver will do."
"There are many patients waiting for transplants, but very few donated organs—and compatibility further reduces the chances."
"Your father would need to get on a waiting list," the doctor said carefully, "but given his condition, he likely wouldn't survive long enough to reach the front."
"What if we pay more? Can we move up the list?" Fiona asked naïvely.
"It's not really a matter of money," the doctor said tactfully. "Money can get better care and better surgeons—but cutting the line is extremely difficult."
In simple terms: even with money, this wasn't something you could just buy your way through. Or rather—Frank still wasn't that rich.
"Then… what if we provide a liver ourselves?" Fiona asked suddenly.
"You mean a direct donor?" the doctor said, surprised.
"Yes," Fiona nodded.
"If there's a living donor," the doctor explained, "and they pass blood compatibility tests, cross-matching, and other evaluations, then surgery can be scheduled immediately."
"However, organ transplant surgery is extremely complex," he added. "It requires at least twelve specialist doctors, coordination across multiple hospital departments, and major resource allocation. The total cost would be around one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
After getting a full explanation in the hallway, Fiona finally returned to the hospital room.