I followed her out into the living room and we sat down together. She held my hand on her lap as she said, “Honey, I’m sure you’ve realized that Gino’s chances are very poor. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for him. In five years, maybe five if I’m lucky, my research may be finished and I’d have something that might help him. But by then it would be too late for Gino. All we can do is make his last days as comfortable as possible. I’d be happy help you pay for the medications and the bills.”
“But momma, couldn’t you use him in your research program? You said you might have something to help him in five years, haven’t you discovered something that could help him now?”, I asked her plaintively.
