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. In it, 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.
What would a FANTASTIC VOYAGE: Breast Cancer look like? 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…
Dr. Olubunmi Nwagbara – Ohloo to her close friends, Dr. O to those who wouldn’t try her last name for fear of offending her – stood up from the uncomfortable hospital chair at the foot of Kim Lin Anzan’s bed. Though the woman on the diagnostic bed had been hailed as the incarnation of the Buddha; or an avatar of Jesus; or the last, best hope of stemming all-out war between the world’s two super powers, India and China; to Ohloo, she was...
“What are you?” she asked abruptly.
Kim Lin Anzan smiled and said softly, “Just a woman trying to extract a promise from another woman.”
Ohloo couldn’t entirely suppress the smile until she said, “With an offer like that, you leave me absolutely no choice but to say, ‘Where do I sign’?”
The Last Hope For World Peace grinned back from her bed. For an instant, the rest of Earth’s nine billion inhabitants didn’t matter. The only thing in the world was the forge on which a new friendship was abruptly hammered into shape. “I will sign whatever release forms you need to me to sign, Dr. Nwagbara.”
Ohloo nodded and said, “As I’m going to be living inside your bloodstream – and possibly even in your brain, I think we can drop formality entirely. When it’s technically just the two of this, please call me Ohloo.”
Kim Lin Anzan nodded and said, “I love that you recognize that subtle difference. When we’re technically alone, please call me Lily. It was my mother’s pet name for me and a lot less pretentious than what everyone else finds it necessary to call me.”
Ohloo nodded and said, “Ohloo and Lily,” she shook her head. “Such humble names for such a grand endeavor.”
“Bodes well for our success, doesn’t it?”
Ohloo nodded and closed down her tablet computer projection. “It does, indeed. I need to get to the lab. You need to rest.”
“When is the big day?”
Ohloo pursed her lips, tapped the T-comp and finally said, “I think I’ll schedule for Monday. I don’t think Mondays are holy days for any faith and there’s no holy-day that my computer search can find that coincides with it.”
Lily frowned. “Why would that be important?”
“I don’t want our success to be marred with claims by philosophical, patriotic, religious or a-religious societies that their observance of whatever days are responsible for our success. Your recovery is going to involve you and I working together, but the research, facilities and ingenuity of thousands – not a single one of whom we could do without – are the only way we can accomplish this surgery.”
Lily nodded then said, “And what I asked of you?”
Ohloo paused. “What about it?”
“I will be most interested in discussing with you the implementation of breast cancer diagnosis for the masses. I’ll also be interested in your ideas of what we can do with that information once we have it.”
“I’m just one doctor...”
“...and I’m just one philosopher. Yet look where we are today.” She sat up slowly, leaning toward Ohloo. “This work has the possibility of having a deep impact on this planetary family.”
Ohloo nodded, adding, “And if I fail and you die while we’re doing this, the end result may have the same deep impact as a comet strike.”
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