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Pieter van der Heyden: Big Fish Eat Little Fish (1557)

" … miracles really do happen, and they occasionally even happen to us."

I want to believe that every hour, every minute, every bless
éd second somehow qualifies as sacred and therefore Consequential. I want to believe this, but I cannot and remain honest, for some days, some hours, some minutes and seconds stand above and at least a little beyond the rest. A few even stand far, far above and beyond their fellows, and so seem uniquely consequent. Yesterday was one of those days, one of those unforgettable ones where a convergence occurred. These events never make believable fiction, by which I mean they simply scream that they actually happened, however unlikely that might seem, because they're too unbelievable to seriously qualify as fictional. Truth often seems stranger than fiction.

I take a brief break from my SetTheory efforts to acknowledge a Consequential event.
Yesterday, October 3, 2022, The Muse began her Chemo-less cancer treatment. The saga, already legend, began barely three months before when she noticed a lump in her neck. She immediately and courageously reported this discovery to her GP, who investigated and ordered a CAT scan. Reviewing the result, he referred her on to an Ear, Eye, Nose, and Throat Man, who photographed the mass at the base of her tongue before taking a biopsy, which confirmed what he'd already concluded from his examination: a very treatable virus-caused cancer. A PET scan confirmed that it had not spread. The Muse began interviewing doctors for treatment.

Our local hospital has earned an iffy reputation, from unnecessary surgeries to, most recently, a fleecing the poor scandal. It has a long tradition of providing spotty care, since it's located near the middle of nowhere, career-wise for doctors, with nothing for doctor spouses to do here and no chance for advancement in any medical field. It does not retain its best and brightest. Still, the radiation oncologist and her counterpart overseeing infusions, seem experienced and competent. She likes them both. Further, interviews in Seattle at the best cancer treatment center in the region also found competent staff but identical treatment plans, just with the inconvenience of being away from home through treatment. A half-hearted interview with The Mayo Clinic in Minnesota failed to convince her of their advantage. She decided to accept treatment at home.

She agreed to participate in a clinical trial, insisting upon her treatment achieving more than merely making her well. She wanted to also contribute to knowledge in the field. She was randomly chosen by the hand of God to receive Immunotherapy rather than the current standard of care Chemo poisoning. She'll still receive radiation with its consequent ills, but she'll sidestep the heavy metal poisoning side effects Chemo reliably produces along with the cure. So, long story already threatening to grow longer, she submitted to the first infusion of her treatment yesterday. Excuse me if I take a break from whatever else I was attempting to acknowledge a real red letter day passing by.

As a footnote, I, too, submitted to a procedure yesterday, slipping away from The Muse's treatment to submit to the final dental work which will resolve remaining issues which emerged during exile, when I went without dentistry for, let's see, thirteen years. I was delighted to learn that I had not completely screwed up my mouth and with yesterday's work completed in a marathon three and a half hour session, my bite's restored to better than original. I can chew on both sides now, and up and down, yet still somehow, it's chew's illusion I recall, I really don't know chew at all. I told The Muse that I would not whine or complain about my surgery since it paled in comparison with her Consequential procedure, but there was a convergence there where the past resolves into a hopeful future as if to convince us that we are actually blessed and that miracles really do happen, and they occasionally even happen to us.

©2022 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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