#about things that i am sixty degrees away from comprehending with my brain

[fateology]

hiiii so i know u like classics/ancient roman stuff — how does one get into that? like what books do u recommend etc etc

HELLO and ok i’m so not an authority on this because i’m really just getting into the classical antiquity scene myself..but probably the start of my ancient rome madness was shakespeare’s julius caesar which i CANNOT stress enough slaps so hard. ***not like fully historically accurate i gather, but i love the drama and i’ve been delighted that actually most of roman politics WAS that dramatic in reality. cut bc i love to run my mouth

in terms of books i haven’t been reading that much because school term :-// but i read erich segal’s classical comedy anthology (aristophanes’ birds, menander’s samia, plautus’ menaechmi, terence’s eunuchus) recently because i wanted something free and easy and i liked the roman ones (plautus & terence)! recommend if you’d like something mindless (though ancient comedy does still tell u important stuff about society at the time) BUT much caution because as with a lot of classical antiquity the plays deal heavily with rape and misogyny (ancient comedian voice: watch how hard i can hate women!!!)

for poetry i’ve been in the middle of ovid’s metamorphoses (horace gregory’s translation) for a while but i like what i’ve read, like that the myths are split and small enough to uhh eat one at a time. ovid = snack real…….other stuff on my reading list are rubicon and attis by tom holland who other than being a critically acclaimed young british actor has also written some fantastically insightful historical non fiction …… this is a joke clap if you wish

what i HAVE been consuming however is loads of podcasts. they’re fantastic because i can put them on while i’m doing work..it’s really like SING MUSE! OF THE BATTLE OF PHILIPPI. come hither fair bard and play me some mother f*cking odes. in particular The Ancients which is on spotify and has loads of stuff on ancient history and the like; the guests on the show are all historians/classicists who’ve written about the content of their episode so if you like the topic you can do the further reading really conveniently. i recall that battle of philippi episode in particular made me very upset about cassius and the collapse of the roman republic….it’s a little scattered sometimes but i like it because it makes me feel like i’m piecing together gossip bit by bit. E.G. i think on one of the cicero episodes they mentioned his clodius feud and i, very unlearned at the time, went CLODIUS? OF THE CATULLUS BITTER BREAKUP POETRY FAME? WHO IS THIS GUY and i found other episodes of other podcasts about him and they just kept saying things. the scandals didn’t stop. #problematicfave #prettyboysupreme #legitimateplebeiantribune #gangleader

speaking of catullus YES also read catullus’ poetry. most of it you can find online and gay people on tumblr me included do translations like they’re being held at gunpoint (honestly maybe one of my favourite ways to consume translated works though it’s about the personal yet communal nature of it….sharing verses..sigh..) AND—re podcasts, i heard the cicero audio drama is really good, but it costs a bit to listen to and i haven’t figured out how debit cards work so that’s on hold for me rn, but i’m PLOTTING

ik you asked about ancient rome but ...read war music by christopher logue recently and ooohhh goodness. it’s great!!! i love fight scenes and the like so i suppose it appealed directly to me but it’s really cool in general (iliad books 16-19 translation/adaptation but guy didn’t speak greek at all! and it F*CKED! my idol). i’m in the middle of cold calls atm. i’d recommend the actual iliad but i can’t yet because i’m terrible, glossed it until i got to the river fight scene and haven’t gotten around to my reread, though i like caroline alexander’s translation a fair bit from what i remember. anne carson has loads of really good stuff but i’m biased bc autobiography of red cracked my head open and drank the meat the first time i read it. Float’s a great collection too and has the plus side of looking really pretty in a shelf. also gotta start the euripides play collection i got, eventually…! will update

[lamiralami]

TMA Retro 4: Page Turner

I was touched to see some tag commentary on yesterday’s post! Honestly, it gave me an emotion - I am traditionally very anxious about engaging online, it speaks to my immense love of TMA that it brought me to Make A Post At Last. It’s very affirming and reassuring to get some response to my lunatic treatises. Y’all are all right. 💜

Anyway, grab some lighter fluid and a sturdy wastepaper basket, time to torch your haunted novel in MAG 4: Page Turner

It’s ironic that this statement is about the Vast when it is one dense motherfucker. so many dangling plot threads are introduced here, each ready to hook you and start reeling. we’ve been into the meta plot since episode one but this episode is the first time the audience is made aware of such.

seriously: Jurgen Leitner and his library, Gerard Keay and Mary Keay, Michael Crew. the figures introduced in this one thirty-minute installment loom large over the rest of the entire run

you could, your first time through, even file this away as a one-off scary story if not for the fact that Jon knows what’s going on (enjoy it while it lasts, my son). He’s heard of Jurgen Leitner. He alludes to an incident with his library in 1994. Deeper than that, he immediately takes the statement at face value and treats the claims within it as authentic, which is a complete 180° on the first three episodes

and this is such a smart story choice? Jon shapes our perspective into this universe and up until now he’s been utterly dismissive of the validity of the stories he’s telling. To go from practically rolling his eyes to scheduling a meeting with his boss about tracking down more haunted books - that tells us that Jon takes this seriously as a threat. And that makes us take it seriously too, makes us take note that strange books are dangerous things in this world. Any offhand mention of books in future statements will be enough to make us sweat

And! It starts winding the narrative tension on a character level. Why and what does Jon know about Jurgen Leitner and his library? Why does he say his name with such venom? And if he’s so sure about the supernatural nature of these books, why is he so loath to believe the other statements?

(and then it takes 80 + episodes to fully answer these initial questions. Jonny enjoys a slow roasted torment)

love that the statement giver presents, as proof of his iron-clad sanity, the fact that he works as a theatre technician. speaking as someone with an unfinished theatre degree: theatre people are feral my good buddy, try again. I mean, we refuse to say the name of one of the most famous plays in the English language because we think a ghost will trip us for the indiscretion. this is not the trump card you think it is.

a quick sidebar for the Red String Brigade: The Trojan Women is an ancient Greek tragedy that involves a baby being thrown off a city wall. The Seagull’s first published English translation was done by Marian Fell, and also a seagull is a bird and birds can fly. Much Ado About Nothing is very good and you should all watch the version from 2011 with David Tennant and Catherine Tate.

it’s interesting that these early episodes seem to take a cue from urban legends in some respects. Nathan Watts gets extremely drunk at a party and then is almost skinned by a monster while having a smoke. Joshua Gillespie is approached while engaging in a whirlwind of debauchery and has to take care of a cursed coffin after accepting money for what he thinks is a drug trafficking gig. Amy Patel regularly spies on her neighbour for her own entertainment and then has to watch him be replaced by a malevolent entity only she can perceive. and now Dominic Swain pushes past his guilty conscience to score a valuable book off an unknowing charity shop and...gets a bit dizzy and haunted by a phantom stink for a few days then gets ‎£5,000, well anyway, the point is he got spooked! spooked after doing something kind of iffy! that is pure urban legend procedure; modern day fairy tales imparting dire  consequences onto societal transgressions. in a horror story this structure offers a false sense of safety - if you’re a good person, the monster won’t come for you. I can’t recall which upcoming statement yanks the rug out from under us with the first completely random victim.

cannot comprehend how this guy didn’t start plugging the book into google translate the second he got home. that probably saved him from being taken by the book but I am still judging him for not even trying it. yeah you’d be sucked into some sort of sky hell but at least you’d know what’s in the book!! could never be me

(yes I am aware in this universe I would have been eaten years ago. I’ve made my peace with that)

grbookworm1818 slays me. I don’t know which is better, the idea of Gertude carefully curating the most sixty-five-year-old-on-goodreads username she could as a cover for her cursed purchase history, or her actual sixty-five-year-old brain just expressing itself naturally because Gertrude is a very busy woman who doesn’t have time to immerse herself in the ins and outs of internet culture, she just wants to buy the demonic tomes she’s selected for destruction and get on with her day thanks.

did Gertrude know what a meme was? which Archivist could convincingly pose as a millennial best, Gertrude Robinson or Jonathan Sims?

The Key of Solomon and its former keeper, Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers, are both real historical figures. the book is basically Renaissance-era magical au fanfic of the Bible, and the man was a 19th century British occultist��(and likely drinking buddy of Jonah Magnus) who founded a Very Serious Secret Society. this is a picture of him whiiiiiich rather dispels any sense of menace he’s meant to invoke. what kind of cosplaying nonsense

Mary Keay is such a striking figure. “She was very old and painfully thin, but her head was completely clean shaven, and every square inch of skin I could see was tattooed over with closely-written words in a script I didn’t recognise.” a Look, a vision!

I’m guessing that Our Gerard was blasting heavy metal at 2 am to try to drown out his undead mother while waiting for her manifestation to dissipate. I like to imagine him frequenting Reddit advice posts about dealing with toxic family members, poor lad

oh my gosh Mary refers to Gerard as “her Gerard” is that where Jon got “our Gerard” from?? I feel betrayed??

whatever, I’m reclaiming it. Our Gerard is meant with affection now babey! 

the eye portrait is a bit puzzling. the inscription - ‘“Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grant us the sound that we may not call.”’ - could almost be read as an invocation against the Eye? But in general Gerry is fairly Eye-aligned, so...shrug emoji

(honestly my main takeaway from the eye portrait is that it’s finely detailed and near photorealistic so we can add “tortured artist” to our list of Gerard Keay traits and is it any wonder that he’s so Fandom Beloved?)

Mary is Not Good at negotiating sales. her main technique involves terrible tea, bringing up repressed childhood trauma, and getting her magic book to drop animal bones onto customer’s shoes. I’m guessing Pinhole Books was in bad shape even before the police investigation and murder charges.

hahaha, the Vast pushes Dominic down the stairs. classic. you gotta grab what opportunities are available

so did Gerard have to follow Dominic back to his flat and wait awkwardly on the doorstep at like 3 in the morning, hoping none of his neighbours would notice and call the cops

the revelation that Mary’s been dead the whole time! this episode may be more intent on world building and plot set-up but damn if it isn’t still a good little ghost story.

kind of rude of Gerry to just burn a book in this guy’s flat without asking and then steal his wastepaper basket.

Jon may not call the statement giver a liar for once, but never fear, he’s still our petty bastard man. accuses Gertrude of filing statements without reading them, has Sasha double-check Martin’s research, grumps about his general misfortune . he’s stressed from the Archives’ disorder and having flashbacks to a certain picture book but by Jove, that won’t stop him making snide comments on what’s supposed to be an official audio transcription!

[rilenerocks]

We sit anxiously in the waiting room, steadying ourselves as we prepare for sticking our toes into cancer waters. Our surgeon will be the lead doctor as the journey begins. He is Dr. John Brockenbrough, a young attractive man who exudes confidence. A man with a plan. Michael will be his first Merkel cell cancer patient. He describes the NCCN guidelines for staging Michael’s Merkel Cell cancer(MCC.) We don’t know what NCCN means – later I look it up online and find it is the National Comprehensive Cancer Network.

The first step is a sentinel node biopsy. Michael’s small tumor is located on his upper left cheek. Dr. B. will make a wide eye-shaped incision in the cheek and check out lymph nodes in the area. If any are malignant, a more dramatic flap surgery will be required. Dr. B. is the head of a medical team that consists of him, an oncologist and a radiation oncologist. Their roles will be determined by the extent of the disease.

Michael and I are struggling for balance. We each have a tendency to be pessimistic rather than optimistic. Anything better than a death sentence will be a positive. We are balancing some complex life situations. My mother, who is 89 and showing signs of dementia is a querulous roommate. She has had two different cancers, twenty years apart and doesn’t comprehend what’s the fuss with  Michael’s cancer. To her, one cancer is the same as another. She’s jealous that she isn’t the center of attention. I am the primary caregiver for our grandson who’s been in my charge since he was seven weeks old. He is now 20 months. My daughter and her husband have challenging jobs and the last thing I want is to abruptly send them on a hunt for baby day care. Our son is in the middle of a PhD in tropical ecology which requires him to be in Panama for six months. Fortunately he’s chosen to pursue this degree at the University of Illinois which means he’ll be home at least part of the time to share in this unexpected experience. Our kids are too young to deal with this blow.

I remember 1989, when both my parents received their bad cancer news, within 5 weeks of each other. Michael was struggling with a herniated disk and I was managing a job, two young kids and everything else. I was 37 and felt like Sisyphus rolling his endless boulder up the hill. But there are positives. The good news is that though Michael has stopped teaching for the remainder of the school year, he has plenty of sick time and our health insurance is reasonable. Our dermatologist is optimistic because she thinks the cancer was caught early. Michael and I are clinging to each other but our different styles and experiences are already beginning to emerge. Michael’s parents are both in their 90’s. He has one living sibling who is older than he is but he isn’t close with her.

His family is small, filled with conflict and lacking intimacy. He’s never experienced a death that hurt him deeply. He’s the babe in the woods. And he’s not aggressive although he appears to be due to a volcanic temper. Next to me, he is passive. Also quiet, and proud. Soon he sinks into his silent place which is familiar to me. I hate it. When I start spilling a myriad of ideas, his hand comes up to stop me. He asks if I would mind removing my feet from his back as I race over him. I emerged from a maelstrom of crazy. I’m a scrapper. I think pride is a waste of time. To get what I want or need I’m willing to try anything. I came from a noisy family with multiple health issues, both physical and mental. I experienced deaths during my childhood. I am one of the most aggressive people I know and I learned early in life that I needed to rise above my emotions and use my brain to keep from sinking into the lunacy around me. I have internal armor which I built over time. I don it fast. Michael’s cancer is a wall in front of me. I start to probe it, looking for some weakness that we can capitalize on as fast as possible. After learning about the NCCN, I begin to read everything I can find about the Merkel Cell protocols. Even though we don’t yet know what’s happening, I want to be ahead of the curve.

The doctor who wrote them is at the University of Michigan. That’s not too far away from where we live in Illinois. We are going to get a second opinion from someone with more knowledge of this disease. No one at our local cancer center has ever treated Merkel Cell. Three people with this cancer had presented themselves at the clinic but they were elderly and chose not to go through the prescribed difficult treatments at an advanced age. Michael is sixty two years old. The sentinel node biopsy takes place a week after seeing Dr. B. It was delayed because Michael was taking baby aspirin as many people in his age group did for heart protection. The doctor wanted to avoid potential bleeding issues. The procedure is done in a bright, modern outpatient surgery facility. The extra facial tissue is removed along with four lymph nodes. After a few days, the biopsy results come back. One of the lymph nodes is positive for MCC. This lymph node is located on the parotid salivary gland, located under the cheek below the site of Michael’s original lesion.  That result which indicates metastasis means that the more complex flap surgery is required. A scant week later, Michael is admitted to the hospital for an exploratory surgery intended to unearth the extent of the metastasis. Dr. B. informs us that the surgery can take between four to five hours, depending on the number of lymph nodes to be removed, a number which can vary widely from individual to individual. Aside from the usual risks of any surgical procedure, there is an issue of skin lying folded on itself while the doctor attempts to locate and retrieve all the lymph nodes. Skin doesn’t like lying on itself. It can die, become necrotic. We have no choices here. We go to the hospital. Michael is prepped and taken to surgery.

My kids and I settle in a corner of the waiting room, anxiously watching the clock. Hours slowly leak away. After over four go by, Dr. B appears and says he’s removed 62 more nodes. He says only one of them looks funky. I find that’s a remarkable statement, but he exudes confidence. That means only 2 nodes out of 66 total look diseased. One was in and one was on the parotid salivary gland which is under the cheek, just below where Michael’s tiny cancer was located. That night, I stayed in the hospital with Michael. The room was small with only a hardbacked wooden desk chair for me to rest on. But I wouldn’t leave. Michael’s blood pressure and pulse were elevated even though he was still asleep. I rubbed his head and neck and held his hand all night. Every two hours the nurse came in to check his vitals. As they kept dropping, i felt less useful and less powerless. There was something I could do. I could comfort him.  The next day he was eager to go home, even though I wished he’d give himself another day. I could have used one too. But home he came.

A few days later, the pathology report confirmed Dr. B’s assessment. Only two of the 66 nodes were metastatic.  Michael’s Merkel Cell (MCC) was classified as Stage IIIA. The NCCN protocols for that stage called for 30 rounds of radiation to the draining basin closest to the lymph nodes, as MCC is carried via lymph and blood. His draining basin was his cheek and neck. Adjunct chemotherapy was an option but wasn’t considered effective in the long term. I’d been doing a lot of research by then and we decided to go for a second opinion. I was so relieved  I’d found the MCC specialist who’d written the NCCN guidelines for Michael’s treatment. We made an appointment in Ann Arbor for June 5th, Michael’s 63rd birthday. In the following days, Michael’s incision was healing nicely. I thought he looked like a handsome pirate who’d taken a cutlass to the neck. We made plans for a romantic getaway in cabin on a lake that would follow our appointment in Michigan and precede his treatment. We were in a zone of cautious optimism as Dr. B. was convinced Michael could be cured. We were a tight unit. Next stop – Ann Arbor.  

Chapter 2 – The Surgeon We sit anxiously in the waiting room, steadying ourselves as we prepare for sticking our toes into cancer waters.

[rilenerocks]

We sit anxiously in the waiting room, steadying ourselves as we prepare for sticking our toes into cancer waters. Our surgeon will be the lead doctor as the journey begins. He is Dr. John Brockenbrough, a young attractive man who exudes confidence. A man with a plan. Michael will be his first Merkel cell cancer patient. He describes the NCCN guidelines for staging Michael’s Merkel Cell cancer(MCC.) We don’t know what NCCN means – later I look it up online and find it is the National Comprehensive Cancer Network.

The first step is a sentinel node biopsy. Michael’s small tumor is located on his upper left cheek. Dr. B. will make a wide eye-shaped incision in the cheek and check out lymph nodes in the area. If any are malignant, a more dramatic flap surgery will be required. Dr. B. is the head of a medical team that consists of him, an oncologist and a radiation oncologist. Their roles will be determined by the extent of the disease.

Michael and I are struggling for balance. We each have a tendency to be pessimistic rather than optimistic. Anything better than a death sentence will be a positive. We are balancing some complex life situations. My mother, who is 89 and showing signs of dementia is a querulous roommate. She has had two different cancers, twenty years apart and doesn’t comprehend what’s the fuss with  Michael’s cancer. To her, one cancer is the same as another. She’s jealous that she isn’t the center of attention. I am the primary caregiver for our grandson who’s been in my charge since he was seven weeks old. He is now 20 months. My daughter and her husband have challenging jobs and the last thing I want is to abruptly send them on a hunt for baby day care. Our son is in the middle of a PhD in tropical ecology which requires him to be in Panama for six months. Fortunately he’s chosen to pursue this degree at the University of Illinois which means he’ll be home at least part of the time to share in this unexpected experience. Our kids are too young to deal with this blow.

I remember 1989, when both my parents received their bad cancer news, within 5 weeks of each other. Michael was struggling with a herniated disk and I was managing a job, two young kids and everything else. I was 37 and felt like Sisyphus rolling his endless boulder up the hill. But there are positives. The good news is that though Michael has stopped teaching for the remainder of the school year, he has plenty of sick time and our health insurance is reasonable. Our dermatologist is optimistic because she thinks the cancer was caught early. Michael and I are clinging to each other but our different styles and experiences are already beginning to emerge. Michael’s parents are both in their 90’s. He has one living sibling who is older than he is but he isn’t close with her.

His family is small, filled with conflict and lacking intimacy. He’s never experienced a death that hurt him deeply. He’s the babe in the woods. And he’s not aggressive although he appears to be due to a volcanic temper. Next to me, he is passive. Also quiet, and proud. Soon he sinks into his silent place which is familiar to me. I hate it. When I start spilling a myriad of ideas, his hand comes up to stop me. He asks if I would mind removing my feet from his back as I race over him. I emerged from a maelstrom of crazy. I’m a scrapper. I think pride is a waste of time. To get what I want or need I’m willing to try anything. I came from a noisy family with multiple health issues, both physical and mental. I experienced deaths during my childhood. I am one of the most aggressive people I know and I learned early in life that I needed to rise above my emotions and use my brain to keep from sinking into the lunacy around me. I have internal armor which I built over time. I don it fast. Michael’s cancer is a wall in front of me. I start to probe it, looking for some weakness that we can capitalize on as fast as possible. After learning about the NCCN, I begin to read everything I can find about the Merkel Cell protocols. Even though we don’t yet know what’s happening, I want to be ahead of the curve.

The doctor who wrote them is at the University of Michigan. That’s not too far away from where we live in Illinois. We are going to get a second opinion from someone with more knowledge of this disease. No one at our local cancer center has ever treated Merkel Cell. Three people with this cancer had presented themselves at the clinic but they were elderly and chose not to go through the prescribed difficult treatments at an advanced age. Michael is sixty two years old. The sentinel node biopsy takes place a week after seeing Dr. B. It was delayed because Michael was taking baby aspirin as many people in his age group did for heart protection. The doctor wanted to avoid potential bleeding issues. The procedure is done in a bright, modern outpatient surgery facility. The extra facial tissue is removed along with four lymph nodes. After a few days, the biopsy results come back. One of the lymph nodes is positive for MCC. This lymph node is located on the parotid salivary gland, located under the cheek below the site of Michael’s original lesion.  That result which indicates metastasis means that the more complex flap surgery is required. A scant week later, Michael is admitted to the hospital for an exploratory surgery intended to unearth the extent of the metastasis. Dr. B. informs us that the surgery can take between four to five hours, depending on the number of lymph nodes to be removed, a number which can vary widely from individual to individual. Aside from the usual risks of any surgical procedure, there is an issue of skin lying folded on itself while the doctor attempts to locate and retrieve all the lymph nodes. Skin doesn’t like lying on itself. It can die, become necrotic. We have no choices here. We go to the hospital. Michael is prepped and taken to surgery.

My kids and I settle in a corner of the waiting room, anxiously watching the clock. Hours slowly leak away. After over four go by, Dr. B appears and says he’s removed 62 more nodes. He says only one of them looks funky. I find that’s a remarkable statement, but he exudes confidence. That means only 2 nodes out of 66 total look diseased. One was in and one was on the parotid salivary gland which is under the cheek, just below where Michael’s tiny cancer was located. That night, I stayed in the hospital with Michael. The room was small with only a hardbacked wooden desk chair for me to rest on. But I wouldn’t leave. Michael’s blood pressure and pulse were elevated even though he was still asleep. I rubbed his head and neck and held his hand all night. Every two hours the nurse came in to check his vitals. As they kept dropping, i felt less useful and less powerless. There was something I could do. I could comfort him.  The next day he was eager to go home, even though I wished he’d give himself another day. I could have used one too. But home he came.

A few days later, the pathology report confirmed Dr. B’s assessment. Only two of the 66 nodes were metastatic.  Michael’s Merkel Cell (MCC) was classified as Stage IIIA. The NCCN protocols for that stage called for 30 rounds of radiation to the draining basin closest to the lymph nodes, as MCC is carried via lymph and blood. His draining basin was his cheek and neck. Adjunct chemotherapy was an option but wasn’t considered effective in the long term. I’d been doing a lot of research by then and we decided to go for a second opinion. I was so relieved  I’d found the MCC specialist who’d written the NCCN guidelines for Michael’s treatment. We made an appointment in Ann Arbor for June 5th, Michael’s 63rd birthday. In the following days, Michael’s incision was healing nicely. I thought he looked like a handsome pirate who’d taken a cutlass to the neck. We made plans for a romantic getaway in cabin on a lake that would follow our appointment in Michigan and precede his treatment. We were in a zone of cautious optimism as Dr. B. was convinced Michael could be cured. We were a tight unit. Next stop – Ann Arbor.  

Hello readers. I am re-posting several related articles as they are essentially becoming a book. To have a cohesive narrative, I have put them in order. Thanks for reading. We sit anxiously in the waiting room, steadying ourselves as we prepare for sticking our toes into cancer waters.

[rilenerocks]

We sit anxiously in the waiting room, steadying ourselves as we prepare for sticking our toes into cancer waters. Our surgeon will be the lead doctor as the journey begins. He is Dr. John Brockenbrough, a young attractive man who exudes confidence. A man with a plan. Michael will be his first Merkel cell cancer patient. He describes the NCCN guidelines for staging Michael’s Merkel Cell cancer(MCC.) We don’t know what NCCN means – later I look it up online and find it is the National Comprehensive Cancer Network.

The first step is a sentinel node biopsy. Michael’s small tumor is located on his upper left cheek. Dr. B. will make a wide eye-shaped incision in the cheek and check out lymph nodes in the area. If any are malignant, a more dramatic flap surgery will be required. Dr. B. is the head of a medical team that consists of him, an oncologist and a radiation oncologist. Their roles will be determined by the extent of the disease.

Michael and I are struggling for balance. We each have a tendency to be pessimistic rather than optimistic. Anything better than a death sentence will be a positive. We are balancing some complex life situations. My mother, who is 89 and showing signs of dementia is a querulous roommate. She has had two different cancers, twenty years apart and doesn’t comprehend what’s the fuss with  Michael’s cancer. To her, one cancer is the same as another. She’s jealous that she isn’t the center of attention. I am the primary caregiver for our grandson who’s been in my charge since he was seven weeks old. He is now 20 months. My daughter and her husband have challenging jobs and the last thing I want is to abruptly send them on a hunt for baby day care. Our son is in the middle of a PhD in tropical ecology which requires him to be in Panama for six months. Fortunately he’s chosen to pursue this degree at the University of Illinois which means he’ll be home at least part of the time to share in this unexpected experience. Our kids are too young to deal with this blow.

I remember 1989, when both my parents received their bad cancer news, within 5 weeks of each other. Michael was struggling with a herniated disk and I was managing a job, two young kids and everything else. I was 37 and felt like Sisyphus rolling his endless boulder up the hill. But there are positives. The good news is that though Michael has stopped teaching for the remainder of the school year, he has plenty of sick time and our health insurance is reasonable. Our dermatologist is optimistic because she thinks the cancer was caught early. Michael and I are clinging to each other but our different styles and experiences are already beginning to emerge. Michael’s parents are both in their 90’s. He has one living sibling who is older than he is but he isn’t close with her.

His family is small, filled with conflict and lacking intimacy. He’s never experienced a death that hurt him deeply. He’s the babe in the woods. And he’s not aggressive although he appears to be due to a volcanic temper. Next to me, he is passive. Also quiet, and proud. Soon he sinks into his silent place which is familiar to me. I hate it. When I start spilling a myriad of ideas, his hand comes up to stop me. He asks if I would mind removing my feet from his back as I race over him. I emerged from a maelstrom of crazy. I’m a scrapper. I think pride is a waste of time. To get what I want or need I’m willing to try anything. I came from a noisy family with multiple health issues, both physical and mental. I experienced deaths during my childhood. I am one of the most aggressive people I know and I learned early in life that I needed to rise above my emotions and use my brain to keep from sinking into the lunacy around me. I have internal armor which I built over time. I don it fast. Michael’s cancer is a wall in front of me. I start to probe it, looking for some weakness that we can capitalize on as fast as possible. After learning about the NCCN, I begin to read everything I can find about the Merkel Cell protocols. Even though we don’t yet know what’s happening, I want to be ahead of the curve.

The doctor who wrote them is at the University of Michigan. That’s not too far away from where we live in Illinois. We are going to get a second opinion from someone with more knowledge of this disease. No one at our local cancer center has ever treated Merkel Cell. Three people with this cancer had presented themselves at the clinic but they were elderly and chose not to go through the prescribed difficult treatments at an advanced age. Michael is sixty two years old. The sentinel node biopsy takes place a week after seeing Dr. B. It was delayed because Michael was taking baby aspirin as many people in his age group did for heart protection. The doctor wanted to avoid potential bleeding issues. The procedure is done in a bright, modern outpatient surgery facility. The extra facial tissue is removed along with four lymph nodes. After a few days, the biopsy results come back. One of the lymph nodes is positive for MCC. This lymph node is located on the parotid salivary gland, located under the cheek below the site of Michael’s original lesion.  That result which indicates metastasis means that the more complex flap surgery is required. A scant week later, Michael is admitted to the hospital for an exploratory surgery intended to unearth the extent of the metastasis. Dr. B. informs us that the surgery can take between four to five hours, depending on the number of lymph nodes to be removed, a number which can vary widely from individual to individual. Aside from the usual risks of any surgical procedure, there is an issue of skin lying folded on itself while the doctor attempts to locate and retrieve all the lymph nodes. Skin doesn’t like lying on itself. It can die, become necrotic. We have no choices here. We go to the hospital. Michael is prepped and taken to surgery.

My kids and I settle in a corner of the waiting room, anxiously watching the clock. Hours slowly leak away. After over four go by, Dr. B appears and says he’s removed 62 more nodes. He says only one of them looks funky. I find that’s a remarkable statement, but he exudes confidence. That means only 2 nodes out of 66 total look diseased. One was in and one was on the parotid salivary gland which is under the cheek, just below where Michael’s tiny cancer was located. That night, I stayed in the hospital with Michael. The room was small with only a hardbacked wooden desk chair for me to rest on. But I wouldn’t leave. Michael’s blood pressure and pulse were elevated even though he was still asleep. I rubbed his head and neck and held his hand all night. Every two hours the nurse came in to check his vitals. As they kept dropping, i felt less useful and less powerless. There was something I could do. I could comfort him.  The next day he was eager to go home, even though I wished he’d give himself another day. I could have used one too. But home he came.

A few days later, the pathology report confirmed Dr. B’s assessment. Only two of the 66 nodes were metastatic.  Michael’s Merkel Cell (MCC) was classified as Stage IIIA. The NCCN protocols for that stage called for 30 rounds of radiation to the draining basin closest to the lymph nodes, as MCC is carried via lymph and blood. His draining basin was his cheek and neck. Adjunct chemotherapy was an option but wasn’t considered effective in the long term. I’d been doing a lot of research by then and we decided to go for a second opinion. I was so relieved  I’d found the MCC specialist who’d written the NCCN guidelines for Michael’s treatment. We made an appointment in Ann Arbor for June 5th, Michael’s 63rd birthday. In the following days, Michael’s incision was healing nicely. I thought he looked like a handsome pirate who’d taken a cutlass to the neck. We made plans for a romantic getaway in cabin on a lake that would follow our appointment in Michigan and precede his treatment. We were in a zone of cautious optimism as Dr. B. was convinced Michael could be cured. We were a tight unit. Next stop – Ann Arbor.  

Chapter 2 – The Surgeon We sit anxiously in the waiting room, steadying ourselves as we prepare for sticking our toes into cancer waters.