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Nevertheless, after Lewis' death it emerged for the first time that he had sought a third opinion in June. He was examined by a team of four cardiologists in Los Angeles. One doctor, William Stevenson, director of clinical electrophysiology at UCLA Medical Center, did not rule out Mudge's milder theory but said he "could not arrive at a definitive diagnosis." Another team member, Dr. Nicholas Diaco, of St. John's Heart Institute in Santa Monica, California, concluded that "the first opinion was closer to the truth." They all recommended that Lewis have his heart monitored.
Which, in fact, is what Lewis was doing. Donna Harris-Lewis issued a statement last week describing a cautious plan under which her husband planned to experiment with competitive playing under Mudge's observation. Even if he resumed professional playing, he intended to ask the Celtics to provide a defibrillator (a machine that shocks arrhythmic hearts back to a regular beat) and a cardiologist at each game. "He told me he was 97% sure he'd come back," says Karl Fogel, Lewis' former coach at Northeastern University. "That led me to believe it was really fifty-fifty. An athlete normally talks about 110% when he's sure."
Did the medical profession fail Reggie Lewis? Perhaps he could have used more guidance. "Where was his primary-care doctor?" asks Michael Grodin, a professor of medical ethics at the Boston University School of Medicine and Public Health. "He needed someone with a broader perspective . . . to sort things out for him, to ask the right questions of the specialists." Still, no one knew for sure what caused Lewis to faint on that fateful April day. Not even the results of the autopsy, which are expected this week at the earliest, can be guaranteed to provide the answer. Whatever was wrong, says Diaco, Lewis was clearly sicker than anyone thought: "This could have happened to him sleeping in bed or driving a car."