A thank-you to Daniel Hauser's doctor, nurse

In a small room in the cancer unit at Children's Hospital of Minneapolis, Dr. Bruce Bostrom and nurse Sara Froyen Gernbacher were discussing the minutiae of several cases. One boy down the hall had just been given some cough medicine. Another was asking questions about his treatment. A lot of questions.

"I tried to answer all of them as best I could," Gernbacher said. "I hope I did OK."

There were 115,619 stories at Children's Hospitals and Clinics of Minnesota last year, and most of them unfolded quietly and without fanfare, just as they did Thursday. They were stories of joy, sadness and, more often than not, hope.

But none resonated like the case of Daniel Hauser, a 12-year-old farm kid whose parents refused to treat his Hodgkin's lymphoma with chemotherapy, saying they were relying on the advice of Native American healers instead. But the courts forced them to treat Daniel because, with treatment, his chances of survival were excellent. Without it, he would almost certainly die.

Daniel's mother, Colleen, fled with her son, but eventually returned and got him the court-ordered treatment. Last week, a judge rescinded the child-protection order when his radiation treatments end. Daniel appears to have recuperated from his lymphoma.

The case, which got international attention, began when Bostrom and Gernbacher reported the family's reluctance to treat Daniel to authorities, something neither had done in their 22-year careers.

"It wasn't an easy thing to do, but it was an obvious thing to do," said Gernbacher, who decided she would treat kids with cancer after spending time at a cancer camp, where she met Bostrom.

Bostrom is thin and soft-spoken. His calm nature and frequent smile give him a Mr. Rogers demeanor. When he mentions that he does Scandinavian folk dancing in his spare time and that his wife, Char, plays fiddle, it seems to fit.

Bostrom grew up in North Branch, the son of a car dealer. His grandfather was a general practitioner. He decided to focus on childhood oncology after spending six months in the field while in medical school at the University of Minnesota.

"The fact there are very hopeful outcomes attracted me," he said. "The cure rates have gone up dramatically, as much as 80 percent or more. You also have a close, continuing relationships with patients and their families; you become their primary doctors for several years. I liked that."

Dealing with Hmong elders

Bostrom once had a Hmong family that feared treatment for their child's cancer. Bostrom eventually met with several community elders and convinced them that it was safe.

But the Hauser case was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Family members never told him they were opposed to treatment for religious reasons. They repeatedly stalled and missed appointments, pushing the crucial chemo off while Daniel's tumor continued to grow. Afraid he would soon die, Bostrom and Gernbacher notified the authorities and began the strange odyssey.

Lots of bad feedback

They were not only abiding by their oath and doing what was best for Daniel, but they also were following the law. Yet, as the news spread, the mail and calls poured in.

"A few were good," Bostrom said with a laugh. "Most were bad."

It was a strange mix of opponents, from those who believe in natural medicine to anti-abortion activists to conspiracy theorists.

The worst response?

"The monkey one," Gernbacher said with a wince. Someone created a website that showed someone plunging a needle into a monkey, and accused them of "dripping poison into yet another child."

As contentious as the issue became in public, "the conflict seemed to reside somewhere beyond the bedside," Gernbacher said. "Both of us felt so much compassion for the Hausers. They were really trying to do what was right for him, but their fear of chemo overruled everything."

Even though, as predicted, Daniel's lymphoma has gone into remission because of chemotherapy, court documents suggest that the Hausers still credit a good diet. They have sought out opinions of several doctors, all of whom agree with Bostrom. In a recent court filing, Colleen Hauser said, "Danny does not trust Dr. Bostrom or country social services and the Guardian ad Litem."

That doesn't bother Bostrom or Gernbacher; they didn't get into their profession for the back pats. "I do sometimes wonder whether he'll reflect back some day on this, and what he'll remember," Gernbacher said. "I hope he remembers we had compassion and we all had the same goal."

What does Bostrom wish for Daniel?

"I hope he can grow up and have a farm, because that's what he really wants to be," he said. "He looks happiest when he's up on a tractor. And I hope his family doesn't lose their farm because of all the money they spent on lawyers."

I'm pretty sure the Hausers won't send a thank-you card to Bostrom and Gernbacher, so I'm going to do it for them. They saved Daniel's life, and they are heroes.

jon.tevlin@startribune.com • 612-673-1702