Previously in The Murder of Ted…
The lab confirmed Ted’s true identity, and our family learned exactly what we were up against.
This week: When every road looks impossible, where do you turn for hope?
Thank you for joining me on this unexpected, uncozy adventure.
The Murder of Ted
A Series of Unfortunate Events, an Uncozy Adventure
Chapter Five: The Search for Treatment
Every sleuth knows that identifying the villain is only half the job.
The harder question is… How do you catch him?
I had officially been handed off to the state detectives. Now I waited by the phone. Between you and me, the waiting was brutal. I am not the most patient person in the world, something I am genuinely trying to get a hold of. I promise! The hospital wasn’t exactly helping matters either. Getting an appointment quickly seemed nearly impossible, and being self-pay certainly wasn’t speeding things along.
Ted had been identified. Now he was just sitting there…
Growing. Lurking.
Sleuths don’t sit still very well. So, while I waited, I went back to my murder board.
I had already researched TNBC prior to my official diagnosis. My murder board had been pointing toward Ted for weeks, but once my detective confirmed his true identity, I dug even deeper.
The deeper I dug… The uglier Ted became. The Ted chunks collected during his interrogation revealed even more clues.
His Ki-67 was 95%. That was Ted’s gas pedal.
Ted wasn’t driving around in a Mini Cooper. He was behind the wheel of a Bugatti with his foot slammed to the floor.
Meanwhile, my poor internal attack team was trying to catch him in a Honda with a flat tire.
His p53 was 99%. Ted wasn’t just speeding down the interstate. He was an unstable kamikaze driver who didn’t care what he destroyed along the way.
No wonder my poor lymph nodes were exhausted.
The more I researched… The more it seemed everyone was pointing toward the same answer. Keynote-522. A very harsh poison system designed to catch Ted. Clinical trials appeared here and there. We researched those too. But research papers only tell part of the story.
I headed to Facebook looking for support. Instead, story after story made Ted look even scarier.
Women shared their battles. Their victories. Their losses. And their side effects. The list of life-altering side effects felt overwhelming. As the victims stacked up, the outcome was beginning to look bleak.
When we finally met with the regional Dr., trained by the state detective agency, she confirmed they had one primary weapon to catch Ted. The Keynote-522. They told me there wasn’t another option. I could use their tactics and make major sacrifices… Or I could let Ted win.
Because of my long-term brain tenant, some of the clinical trials were out for me. Even though he’d honored our agreement for years, he had suddenly become another complication in the case.
The regional Dr. said she was by the book, and treatment options couldn’t be altered, but promised that there would be medication to assist with the permanent side effects I could face.
Our hearts were heavy after the meeting. The standard protocol from the regional detectives wasn’t something we were completely sure was the right fit for catching Ted. Not because we doubted their experience, but because of my unique setup, health problems, and Ted’s willingness to use them against me. We simply weren’t convinced it was the only path. Plus, the State detectives still had not called to offer additional support.
How could Keynote-522 be the only way they knew to catch him?
Ted was a Super Villain, and this was the best weapon we had? There has to be another way.
I wasn’t afraid of fighting Ted. I was afraid of choosing the wrong weapon.
The more stories I read, the more overwhelming everything became. For a little while, it felt like every path led to another dead end.
But like any good mystery, there always comes a point where it looks like the villain is going to get away.
Writers call that… The darkest hour. I had a feeling this wasn’t my darkest hour. It was only my darkest minute.
Not knowing what to do next, I turned to Mass. For me, it’s always been a place where answers become clearer.
My husband and I sat quietly with God and let Ted’s distractions melt away. There was always more research to be done. The clock was still ticking. And while Ted wasn’t slowing down… I knew there had to be another way to catch him.
Every cozy mystery has a quirky little town filled with people who help the sleuth solve the mystery. Especially when times get tough. Turns out, my story wasn’t any different.
My family and friends joined the investigation. Together we searched high and low.
Hospitals, clinics, other states, clinical trials, other countries under the name of medical tourism.
Text messages, emails, and phone calls came in at all hours of the day and night. The team’s investigation stretched to every corner of the internet.
Anything that might reveal Ted’s weakness.
For a while, Europe looked very promising. Their treatments didn’t only involve Keynote 522; they also included integrative support, something that America hasn’t quite embraced. The support was enticing because they had plans for patients like me. The thought of moving to another country was scary and exciting all at the same time. Could we even do it?
It was an emotional roller coaster. One that left you feeling like you might just puke at any minute.
I felt sorriest for my townsfolk in this story. They didn’t ask to be cast into a murder mystery. I could feel what I was facing, and I was armed with the faith that I had a great purpose. To shine as a light for others. For them, they were sidelined, watching in horror as Ted grew stronger and I grew weaker.
We cried and laughed together. That Sunday, we gathered the family together. It wasn’t an easy conversation.
We explained that if we found another way to catch Ted, my husband and I might have to leave for treatment. If that happened, the kids would have to stay behind.
Hold down the fort. Take care of the house. And most importantly…My fur babies.
What would we have to sell? Could we sign the vehicles over to the kids? How would they afford the house payment? Millions of thoughts ran through my mind. Our lives would be forever changed. Financially, could this even happen?
They didn’t hesitate. Tears ran down my daughter’s face. They were ready to do whatever was necessary. But beneath all of our brave faces was the same unspoken thought. There was a very real chance I might never come home.
That night, I crawled into bed with Flynn and Paige. My writing buddy fur babies. Animals always seem to know. They sensed my distress. Paige stretched across my legs. She is a 75-pound St. Bernard Aussie. So, picture that furry beast acting like a blanket on my 106-pound frame! Flynn curled up against me, too.
A tear rolled down my cheek as they each settled across me. I whispered softly, “Please don’t ever think I’ve left you if I have to go away. I love you.”
Neither of them moved. They simply stayed with me as though they understood.
Sometimes… Love doesn’t need words.
By the next morning, we had made our decision: if treatment in America couldn’t give us what we needed, we would move to Europe.
The State Detectives still had not called on the Stat order, and we had scheduled one more state-side private agency to interview. At this point, we were going through the motions, checking it off the list, expecting the same disappointing news.
Arriving tired and deflated after additional hours on the phone with the State agency, they had finally called; we had little hope that staying in the country would work.
That’s when we met L.W. From the moment we sat down, something felt different. His approach to Ted’s mischievous ways gave us the first real glimmer of hope we’d had in weeks.
For the first time since Ted’s identity had been revealed… Someone wasn’t just talking about surviving. They were talking about destroying him and thriving in the process.
It wasn’t an easy decision, and we weren’t ready to make it. But God may have given us the glitter we had been praying for.
Changing detective agencies meant choosing a different path, and both roads looked difficult. One promised the standard investigation and military tactics.
The other required trusting a completely different strategy, one with hired mercenaries. Before I could accept this shiny new plan of attack. I needed a sign; a little light on the path. I prayed and asked God to guide us. To show us where we needed to go.
Much like the Irish tradition of lighting a candle in the window to guide wayward travelers home, I needed a light to show us the way.
Now, some of you may call it coincidence. Some may call it a miracle. And others may call it divine intervention.
Call it whatever you’re comfortable with. I know this was one of the lit candles I had prayed for.
As my husband and I sat there discussing Ted, still feeling the weight of the decision in front of us. I never expected that light would walk through a side door at a cancer treatment center.
I recognized her immediately. Her patient testimonial had given me hope. She had battled the exact same Ted. The same Triple Negative Breast Cancer.
“That’s Ruth!” I exclaimed.
My husband looked confused.
Don’t worry, dear readers, her name has been changed for her protection.
As she slipped behind the treatment room doors, I ran to the nurses’ station. Grabbing the first available nurse like the unhinged crazy woman that secretly I was afraid I was becoming, I begged the nurse to ask the woman if she would be willing to speak to me.
“I can certainly ask her, but I can’t guarantee she will want to.” She smiled.
Moments later, the nurse returned.
“Ruth said she would be happy to speak to you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Ruth stepped out from the treatment room and took a seat next to me, and suddenly…
The investigation had its first witness.
Stay tuned for the next episode of The Murder of Ted. Chapter Six: The Witness
Thank you for walking this very real investigation with me. If you need a breather before the next chapter, escape with Taryn O’Kelly, where the villains are fictional, the mysteries are fun, and no one has to face a Ted.
And don’t forget, the antidote to the uncozy is a cozy mystery.
Until next chapter…
Happy reading.
As always, thanks for stopping by for some Salty Inspirations! -Michelle ❤️
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