A Fantastic Cancer Voyage Chapter 1 I

From the first moment my wife discovered she had breast cancer, there was a deafening silence from the men I know. Even ones whose wives, mothers or girlfriends had breast cancer seemed to have received a gag order from some Central Cancer Command and did little more than mumble about the experience. Not one to shut up for any known reason, I started this blog…

One of my fondest memories as a kid is watching the movie FANTASTIC VOYAGE with my dad while eating peanut butter toast and drinking hot chocolate.

In the movie, a group of scientists and their ultra-futuristic laser-packing “submarine” are reduced to cell size and injected into the blood vessels of a world diplomat in order to destroy a blood clot in his brain. Of course, they succeed in the nick of time JUST before the shrink ray effect wears off and the ship (and the people) grow back to normal size – having a slightly detrimental effect on the world leader into whose head they were injected.

What would a FANTASTIC VOYAGE: Breast Cancer look like?

Well, seeing that I’m a writer and this is my blog, I’m going to try something new (like the BREAST CANCER RESEARCH NOW! feature). I’m going to write a novel here, short chapter by short chapter and I’m going to include the latest research and I’m going to imagine the entire story here for your delectation. Likely it WON’T be once a month – that will all depend on how my wife’s continuing cancer progress moves. She has changed hospitals (more on that next week after the first visit) due to continuing issues with travel time and…services that seem to be lacking there, as well as doctors who say, “You don’t have any symptoms, so you must be fine.” At any rate, more on The Move next Saturday.

For now:

Chapter 1

“Why would we risk all-out war with the SinoIndian Arc just for one person?” Alex Benton asked.

Dr. Olubunmi Nwagbara shook her head and said, “She’s more than a single person. And she has aggressive triple-negative breast cancer. We’ve tried the usual treatments, but it’s a rare form and it’s going to kill her unless we do something drastic.”

Benton sat down in his swivel chair and leaned back, looking out the window. The last stages of a Minnesota winter gusted sleety snow against it, streaking the smoky glass. A steady stream of ground traffic far below moved in the afternoon crush of rush hour. His office on the recently completed Thirty-First Floor was not only a mark of his meteoric rise – it was currently a pain in his backside. “What’s so special about this woman that we have to risk world war to treat her?”

Olubunmi – Ohloo to her close friends – opened her mouth to reply.

Benton waved her reply away as if he were swatting at carrion flies as he said, “I know she’s supposed to be ‘The Last Best Hope For Peace In The World’ but why her?” This time he looked at Ohloo.

She pursed her lips then looked out into the grayness of the late winter storm. Finally she said, “Have you ever heard her speak?”

His lips thinned then he shook his head. “I don’t have time to waste on fluffy New-Age nonsense.”

Ohloo checked her irritation. She’d worked Benton for nearly a decade – not worked “with” as he’d never been a team player – but she’d learned how to direct his considerable energy and determination. She took a deep breath and said, “What she says is more than fluffy, Lex.”

He shot her a look. They rarely engaged in simple nicknames. He said, “She says she’s a Catholic-Buddhist-Hindu-Daoist! As a long-time Catholic, I find that offensive!”

Ohloo smiled and said, “As a life-long evangelical Christian, there are parts of me that cringe at that designation, too. But...”

“There’s no ‘but’ in Catholicism!” His glare narrowed, “I didn’t think there was much wiggle room in evangelicalism, either.”

“As far as belief goes, there isn’t. But what Master An has done...”

He waved her away again. “I know what she’s done. I can skim the websites as easily as you can.”

“Then you know why we have to try this.”

“I also know what Beijing and New Delhi are saying and right now it’s their opinion – and their covert operations people – who have my attention. What are we supposed to do about that? I can’t risk turning Rochester into a war zone! We have sick people here!”

Ohloo said quietly, “Master An is also sick. Her cancer is inoperable right now and she has, at last report, possibly four weeks or a bit more left before she dies.”

“So? One more wacko mystic dying shouldn’t be our concern!”

“As far as I can tell, she’s not a ‘wacko mystic’. She’s a good woman – and our treatment may very well work.”

He snorted, glaring out the window. Finally he said, “I don’t see how uploading your brain into a microscopic submarine in her bloodstream is going to help destroy the cancer.” Ohloo opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off with a gesture again. “I know. I’ve watched FANTASTIC VOYAGE, also. It was one of my favorite movies as a kid. But this isn’t a movie and it’s not a science fiction story. It’s real, and we’re talking about real medicine here.”

“I am too, Lex. I think I can do this.”

He grunted and without looking at her, he said, “I think you can, too.” He spun in his chair and stood abruptly and walked past her, “But if you die, Ohloo, I’ll never speak to you again.”

The doors opened with a STAR TREK whoosh! and he was gone. Dr. Ohloo watched the slush slap the windows of the Gonda building. Smiling faintly, she said, “Why Lex, I didn’t know you cared.”

Image: http://medgadget.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/11/Fantastic-Voyage-200x290.jpg