Page 221 - James Caan - The Real Deal

21 · What Goes Around

‘Not a problem. Just do me a favour.’
‘What?’
‘Go now. Literally, get to the airport and get on the next plane.
Charge it to my card, just get there.’
‘OK.’
‘And no matter what he says, all you’re going to do when you
get there is pack his bags and bring him home.’
Two days later, I went to see Dad at my mum’s house in
Chingford. He looked really weak but because he wasn’t registered
with a GP I didn’t know what to do with him. He was so bad that
we wondered if we should take him to casualty. I wasn’t sure; all
I knew was that I wanted to talk to a doctor I trusted.
‘I’m going to take you to Barts,’ I said.
Ever since that day when Alexander Mann had raised funds for
them, I had maintained a great relationship with the hospital and
I was often invited to events there. One of the doctors I had met
there was Professor Besser, who insisted I take my dad to their
private facility on the top floor of the hospital.
My dad thought it was very weird that everyone in the hospital
seemed to know my name, but he was took weak and jet-lagged
to ask me about it. Professor Besser came to greet us and then took
my father away for some tests. Half an hour later, the professor
came out to see me.
‘Let me show you something. I’ve got two test tubes. This is
what normal blood looks like.’ It was a tube of regular-looking red
blood. Then he showed me a test tube with a black liquid in it.
‘This is your dad’s blood.’
I was stunned.
‘Why is it like that?’
‘When both your kidneys stop functioning the blood stops being
cleansed, and then it gets poisonous, and then, well, you’re done.’
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Without treatment he
estimated my father had two or three days to live.

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