Silence

Eight months of battle has come to an end. The siege is over, the campaign won. The war transforms from hot to cold with détente on the horizon.

A few tasks remain unfinished. In the coming months, the sally port will be bricked up. Sentinels will be posted and auguries performed to warn of any impending threat. She will stand a five-year vigil in the chapel every evening, lighting a votive like a prayer to ward off the grendel's return.

But these are the duties of a garrison not the deeds of an adventure.

The lists have been disbanded, the debris of battle cleared away. On the bailey tents have been dropped, banners furled and horses readied for the road. Mercenaries have been paid and ride toward their next contract. Friends and allies drift away toward home.

In truth many left long ago, worn by fatigue from endless months of siege. A few never answered the call at all. Some sought answers to unanswerable questions in advance, wanting to know whether the battle would be won or lost before committing their energy behind it. Others waited for a victory celebration without wanting to confront the possibility of defeat.

Only a handful understood that, either way, we endured this adventure with only words to convey our fear and pain, with only words to comfort us. These select were far fewer than I had hoped we when set our feet upon this path. But, like gold, they revealed themselves against the sediment as the water swirled relentlessly around the pan. And remain as cherished as rubies tumbled from a mountain stream.

The dovecote stands empty. All the pigeons have been released, their messages delivered if some unwanted or unread. Only one remains cooing in my hand, waiting for this final missive to be strapped against its leg, waiting for its time to fly. I sooth it with gentle strokes, wistfully remembering its companions before I lift it to the air.

Nothing more to say, I raise her banner one last time and watch the horses retreat toward the horizon. The quietude of night descends like the silence echoing against my ears. Above the gate an armored figure leans upon her spear, her shield slung over one shoulder, her sword still belted to her waist, ready to fight again if necessary but hoping it is not. As twilight deepens and friends depart, she waves farewell and Godspeed. Framed against the battlement, her silhouette sets in my mind as the picture of a hero. A veteran.

A survivor.

© 2007 Edward P. Morgan III

De-ported (unsent)

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Karen's port came out this afternoon, not for much sawing and gnashing of teeth. Ok, not that bad, but it was apparently reluctant. Fortunately, the surgeon's staff would not allow me to bear witness to the blessed event though I did see the aftermath. Uncomfortable, but not too painful as it was described. At least it could all be done in the office and didn't take much time.

She has three stitches that come out next Wednesday, the day before we leave for Atlanta. This kind of closes the chapter on all but the maintenance for us on this adventure. We celebrated with a frosty Starbucks frappaccino on the way home.

As an added bonus, we don't have to show documentation for the port to Homeland Security during the scans at the airport. And I was practicing my top three things NOT to say it was on the way home. It's a less than one gram, non-felony cocaine smuggling container. It's the detonator for the two pounds of plastique she had surgically implanted in her left femur (funny, the scan should have set that off). It's a direct brain stimulation device to control her psychotic alternate personalities (tap, tap, I think the batteries are dead). Yeah, those guys don't have a sense of humor. No, I don't mess with them. They have guns, and the personality to use them.

Forgive me, I'm a bit punchy from having all this over and done, and from being worried from not knowing exactly what to expect as the appointment approached. But it's out. Yeah!

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Ultrasound

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Went down and got the ultrasound done. Everything looks good. It looks as though what we felt was a lymph node (though neither doctor thought it would be). So no problem. But boy did going back to the facility to get it done put us both back where we started in December. Initially, they didn’t want to let me come back, but changed their minds once they figured out she was in for an ultrasound not a mammogram. We did get some lunch out together before we came home. Karen is headed back into work.

Tuesday, Karen gets the port out. Then probably a follow-up from that a few days before we got to Atlanta.

We're planning on going to a movie on Sunday (Stardust) with some friends. Other than that, no real plans for the weekend.

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Appointments 4

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Made it to the follow-up with the radio-oncologist this morning, not without difficulty. I got in my Jeep and clutch pedal went straight to the floor. No hydraulics.

Karen's appointment went fine. No new information. He wants to see Karen again in 3 months, then every six after. He wants a mammogram about 6 months from November, her next scheduled one. Right now, she has follow-ups with all three doctors (surgeon and 2 oncologists) within a week in November. Plus her gyn in September. Plus I'm sure our primary will want to see her at some point. Never ending. But the radio-oncologist did say that while he would normally see her every 3 months that since she was seeing the medical oncologist every 3 that he could go with every 6 for the next couple years. At least she has a lot of eyes looking out for her.

He felt the thing Karen is getting ultrasounded tomorrow. He wasn't concerned as it moved with the scar and he thought it might be consolidating scar tissue or a pocket filled with fluid. Nice to hear, but I am still very nervous. This all started with an ultrasound. I can tell how much it's bothering me as I haven't been real good on sleep or productivity this week.

I'll let you know how it goes.

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Appointments 3

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Karen scheduled with the surgeon for the port to come out next Tuesday, 8/21. It's done in the office under a local. Doesn't take any longer than a normal appointment. I think I'll wait outside on that one, if I have a choice, which I probably won't. She'll probably want me there. I'll go with her (or drive myself and meet her) to go to the other appointments this week. We have to sort out those details yet.

Talking to the doctor yesterday, he mentioned that he spent last night writing a letter to Washington to express his concern about groundwork being laid for what he saw as a two tiered medical system in this country. He was concerned about the rules for Medicare being talked about which drop the standard of care back 10 years. He believes that private insurance will quickly adopt similar rules leaving only the very rich able to afford some of the care given today. He said he didn't classify himself in that category. Scary.

I'll let you know how Thursday and Friday go.

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Appointments 2

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Ugh, a long day of appointments. Karen's bloodwork and follow-up with the medical oncologist took 2.5 hours. They were very busy with chemo patients, as some Monday's are. We barely had time for lunch before we had to take the cats in for their annuals.

The doctor has Karen starting on Tamoxifen for her hormone therapy, at least initially. She has blood tests scheduled in 3 months that determine whether she is pre- or post-menopausal. If she is now post, then he will change drugs to Arimidex. They work differently. One is effective for pre- the other for post- in preventing estrogen from either binding or being created. He listed off a bunch of scary, but unlikely side effects. He also asked if she wanted to start on anything to control her hot flashes, but she decided to wait unless they got worse.

As the doctor was checking her scars, she pointed out a nodule that had come up from a ridge on the scar from her axillary lymph nodes. He ordered an ultra-sound on Friday just to make certain it is only scar tissue.

For the next year, Karen will see the medical oncologist once every 3 months. For the second year, it will be every 4 months. After that, every 6.

The good news is that the port can come out as soon as she can schedule it with the surgeon. That might be able to be done in the office, which is creepy but makes it easier. She'll call the surgeon tomorrow to set that up.

I think that it for the moment.

Karen has her follow-up with the radio-oncologist Thursday morning, which I will also likely go to, as I will to the ultrasound on Friday. Busy week.

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Tour

On her final day within the grendel's lair, I tour the laboratory of sorcerer-engineer.

Beyond the entrance, a sacrifice upon the wall in an illuminated style reminds me we have entered another religious enclave. In a simple cell, she exchanges her armor for a rough-spun robe, her weapons and equipment guarded under lock and key.

A choir monk, a sorcerer-technician, walks me through the checklist of spells he prepares while training a novice and replacement. A heavy metal door leads to a lead-lined vault sealed against legions of tiny, conjured demons, nines of millions in number, who can know no escape for the havoc they would wreak upon this world. She is positioned at the center of the armillary sphere that fills this room. It lifts and tilts on ponderous, whirring gears as they align it under mirrors reflecting calibrated shafts of light. A template is fitted to focus the fiendish magic. Numbers and symbols scroll through the air above her head, glowing, scarlet and angry. We retreat to safety before hoards of evil gremlins become unleashed.

The control room is carved to resemble a Norse rune called the Gateway, a thorn upon a rose marking Thor's domain where giants and demons stagger under his hammer blows. Each station faces a different chamber, one for penetrating demons, another for the superficial. Sorcerer-technicians scry upon her through crystal balls to monitor her progress, possessing no wards powerful enough to allow anyone to stand beside her. The demons have eaten through two apparatus with their vitriolic dispositions. Both will be replaced before the moon has turned.

The chamber is darkened, a button pushed, the magical accelerator uncovered and unchained. Its beam is set into motion, its ray invisible to our eyes. No torches dim, no candles flicker. Only a red lantern is raised above the threshold to remind us not to enter. The monks and sisters observe a moment of silent contemplation for the instants that the witching lasts.

And she is free.

She rearmors quickly before we depart. At the gate the lay sister who greeted her every morning from the tollhouse assigns an angel to perch upon her shoulder, a golden reminder of an ordeal now both judged and passed.

On the journey home, concentric rings spread across glassy pools of water with each drop of rain falling from a leaden sky like unshed tears of joy.

© 2007 Edward P. Morgan III

Final Update

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Radiation is done! Yeah! Treatment is finally over! WooHoo!

And we even get to go to Dragon*Con in Atlanta. Yippee!

Now things enter a maintenance phase, much less week to week or day to day. After eight months, we are finally free from a schedule.

I've decided not to send any further updates. In summary, Karen has a follow-up with the medical oncologist and the radio-oncologist in two weeks (8/13 & 8/15) and a follow-up with the surgeon in November. The port should be removed either near the end of this year or the beginning of next. She will take Tamoxifen daily for five years as an extension of chemotherapy. There will be tests and scans to make sure nothing is coming back. That's how it lays out today.

I have tried to thank you each individually for the things you've done during all of this. But in case I missed someone... Thank you for the cards, the plants, the flowers, the thoughts and prayers. Thank you for the letters, the phone calls, the visits, the e-mails. Thank you for the knitting and the hats. Thank you for the food, the meals that stocked our freezer, the lunches, the dinners, the coffees, the sunset. Thank you for the books. Thank you for the bear. Thank you for the all gifts. Thank you for the invitations even if we couldn't always accept. Thank you for the offers of assistance. Thank you for watering her plants and keeping her office rodent free. Thank you for taking care of the cats so we can go to Atlanta. Thank you for offering to stay behind so we could get away. Thank you for waiting with me that first time.

And a few special people to note, though I'll spare them the embarrassment of naming names. The one in the Golden State who we clung to as hers and Karen's treatments progressed. Two in the Bay Colony, the one who e-mailed Karen every day, and the one who picked me up each time I fell down. In the Sunshine State, the one who called on Sundays while Karen was home, and the two who came out for coffee every other week. In the chat room, the one who had walked Karen's path before and whose support, advice and encouragement eased her transition from cancer victim to cancer survivor. I hope you each know who you are as your company made this adventure tolerable on its darkest days.

When all this started, Karen asked me to send out these updates. Most of you asked to be kept informed. Some never did but I sent them anyway. I tried to take notes at each appointment, partially for us, partially to be able to relate what I had learned. I took the responsibility seriously, second only to taking care of Karen. Updates were usually written after getting her settled, but before my own food or sleep.

The creative messages attempted to put into words what we were going through and the impressions that it left. Though they were partially my own distraction and more for Karen's entertainment than anyone else's, those, too, I tried to get them out a timely manner. Many got started in waiting rooms throughout the county. They each took about three days to complete. The voice and language surprised even me. More received them than ever asked. Two more and those chronicles are complete. Then only nine will receive my ramblings unless I hear from others.

Now that my duty has been discharged, I return you to your own regularly

scheduled adventure. Thanks for sharing the path on ours a while.

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(This was the last update sent out to the full e-mail list. The remaining updates went out to a handful of friends and family who were still interested).