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. If you want to start at the beginning, look left. Scroll down to LABELS. The first one is “A Fantastic Cancer Voyage”. Click on it. Scroll to the bottom and you will find episode on. Let me know what you think after you’ve read the whole thing!
Once the invitations and responses had come – word had gotten around about what she was doing – far more quickly than she’d expected, Dr. Olubunmi Nwagbara simply gone home.
Ohloo, as she insisted her friends call her, took the late maglev out of Rochester and the deep orbital well that was the Mayo Clinic, escaping thirty kilometers east to the small town of St. Charles. From there, she took her usual electric rental Mini Cooper north to the edge of Whitewater State Park in Elba Township. She owned a forty hectare organic produce hobby farm. She worked it during rare vacations and some weekends, but hired a tiny staff of three to tend to everyday operations, upkeep, housekeep, laundry, and meals. The two men were older, experienced and had been born in Nigeria in a village that spoke the same language she’d been born into – Efik. Her house help had shown up abused and nearly incoherent in the ER one night when Ohloo had been doing her residency.
During the Unsettled Twenties, social services had been overwhelmed and helpless, unable to give Diandra Kolchak a place to live. Ohloo had opened her apartment temporarily – and their friendship had been born.
Pulling up in the Cooper as it left the intense darkness surrounding the farm, she drove the curving asphalt. That hadn’t been her idea. The previous owner had done it. At least she’d had the concrete lions at the foot of the drive removed. She stopped on the cobbled courtyard.
Peter Usoro met her and took over. “Thank you, Sir,” she said. He smiled faintly, amused that she called him by the honorific. But that was how she had been raised. She went in. Di met her, took her coat and said, “There’s supper in the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” Ohloo said, lowering the imaginary personal shield she raised whenever she went into work. She sat on a stool and hooked her foot around a leg. “Local news,” she said. The small kitchen computer screen came to life, scrolling grain and pork futures, talking about seed and field treatments for the coming spring as well as announcing the latest bumper crop or famine.
After a while she realized that she was being watched. She turned and Di dipped a bit and said, “There’s someone here who’s been waiting to see you all day, Doctor.”
Scowling, she said, “They have the proper clearances?”
Di looked offended, returning the dark scowl. She stood with her hands hovering around her waist. She’d been trained in self-defense and body-guarding. She knew what she was doing and handled the household security quite well. Ohloo said, “Sorry, Di. Who is it?”
She knew the voice that spoke from the hallway leading to the guest suite and grinned as she turned.
The Prime Minister of Nigeria stepped into the kitchen light as Ohloo said, “Ediye!”
He opened his arms and she stepped into them as he said, “Daughter. I’ve missed you.” She hugged him and then he pushed her gently back, holding her at arm’s length. “You’ve been busy.”
She laughed, “So what else is new? I’ve been busy since before I was born.” Her mirth faded by a look in his eyes. She said, “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged, “Nothing that we can’t talk about later. I’m hungry.”
She stiffened. The least favorite of his many words from his mouth still had the power to make her feel both angry and ashamed. She called over her shoulder, “Diandra!”
His brows rose as he said, “Did your mother not teach you to cook?”
She pursed her lips and said, “As a matter of fact, no, Father. Mother did not teach me to cook. Cook did.”
“I don’t remember that...”
Ohloo clamped her jaw shut. She would not get into an argument. Instead she said, “We’re about to undertake a mission that might change the way Humanity looks at its world!”
His eyes darkened and he said, “That is the very reason I’ve flown here. To get you to stop.”
Image: http://medgadget.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/11/Fantastic-Voyage-200x290.jpg
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