Previously in The Murder of Ted…
The Greek tests revealed Ted’s weaknesses, LW found the right weapons to fight him, and it was time to unleash the chemo.
This week, Ted meets Fred, Ed, and Joy, friendships grow, chemo takes its toll, and I refuse to give up the fight.
Thank you for joining me on this unexpected, uncozy adventure.
The Murder of Ted
A Series of Unfortunate Events, an Uncozy Adventure
Chapter Eleven: The Ted Naming Epidemic
Every sleuth has friends helping them, and while my quirky town folk are back home in the Cape, this story has become a mini sleuth reunion.
What would it be like if Stephanie Plum, Clare Cosi, Miss Marple, and Taryn O’Kelly teamed up?
I think Ted might be in serious trouble.
I have met so many wonderful people here. So many sleuths are battling their own version of Ted. Somehow, in the middle of all of this, I had started making friends.
One of them was Martha.
Martha and I started chatting one day. She was struggling with this fun diet, and I let her know I was creating recipes. I told her we could send some to her.
The system was pretty simple. I would create the recipes, Mama Bear would cook them and test them out on me, and if they were good, she would type them up so we could hand them out.
One complaint I had was with the KP at LW. They weren’t very good at helping you find food on such a spare diet. You were pretty much left to your own devices. And if you Google keto or low-carb meals, they are never low enough for 12-carb Cancer Keto.
Martha was very thankful.
I also let her know that I had named my cancer Ted.
She asked why.
I said, “Why not?”
It makes things a lot less scary if you give it a name and possibly sort of a face. I was fighting the evil stalker serial killer Ted. Therefore, I knew what I needed to do and how to defeat him.
She said she might have to try to name hers. She sat there for a minute.
Her small frame reminded me of an Irish pixie, and her feisty, cute attitude added to that description.
Suddenly, she sat up.
“I’ve got it! Mine’s named Fred. And Fred is dead.”
I said, “I love it.”
Fred was Ted’s evil cousin, and together we were going to take them down!
Naming the cancer around here was starting to become a trend.
Hopefully, LW doesn’t mind it too much!
Then there was Lana.
Lana had Ted’s evil twin, Ed, in her pancreas. Each day, she would update me on her mission to eliminate Ed.
She was almost done with treatment, and her advice about what to expect was invaluable.
In the very near future, I would undergo a treatment similar to radiation but safer on the healthy cells.
She said she loved it because she could imagine Ed melting!
I had started an unexpected movement of everyone naming their cancer.
The clinic had never had a patient do this.
But they had never met a weirdo like me!
And honestly, I think it helped.
Maybe giving the enemy a name made it a little easier to fight.
Along came Dee.
Dee and I met during IV treatment. She, too, was dealing with cancer that had returned and was going through round two. But because her last treatment had caused damage, she needed to take a different route this time.
We talked for three hours during our treatment.
She also gave me some advice. I was already starting to get neuropathy, and she told me to use ice to help with it. I was happy to take any advice I could get from someone who had been down this road before me.
Of course, somewhere during those three hours, the subject of naming our cancers came up.
Dee decided that naming hers was a pretty good idea, too.
She came up with Joy. Her mission was to kill Joy because Joy was killing her joy.
I loved it. I love how creative people can be with just a tiny bit of inspiration.
And just like that, another member had joined the Ted-naming movement.
I met another lovely woman also battling her own version of Ted: Nina.
Nina is the sweetest, kindest, most loving woman, and my heart breaks for her because her cancer had spread to her liver.
Traditional treatment wasn’t able to help her any further. Now she was here, trying again to eradicate this jerk.
We became friends.
I’ve shared my recipes and a few other things with her. We talk in the halls, and just seeing her face makes me smile.
I can’t help but hug her every time I see her. I wish her the very best of luck. She’s such a beautiful light in this world.
I always pray for her and everyone in the clinic, both the staff and the patients.
I’ve met some wonderful people there. So many people need help.
I pray every day that I’m sharing my life with them all and accomplishing at least part of the mission I believe God has given me during this time.
But while I was making friends and helping other people battle their versions of Ted, my own battle was taking its toll.
I looked in the mirror at myself. I had lost a lot of weight, and I was losing energy.
I had had three rounds of chemo, and it was already wearing me down.
The diet wasn’t keeping weight on, and the chemo tongue had made all of my taste buds broken.
Bitter was the flavor of the week.
And bitter was what Ted wanted.
Anything to make me want to quit.
Anything to make me give up the fight.
But I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.
This week, Trish gave Ted two rounds of IVs that the Greek tests had proven could dispatch Ted at a decent rate. Ted had an aversion to Artemisinin and Alpha Lipoic Acid, both of which Trish was all too happy to feed him.
Everyone was sick of Ted. No one wanted him around anymore.
Even Ms. S. had had it with him.
I went in for my injections, the sugar-laced stealth bombs, and Ms. S. looked at Ted.
“What are you doing, Ted? It’s time for you to go. And these lymph nodes, they haven’t cleared out yet. They’re getting a hit too.”
The premedication took its toll on me, as did everything at this point.
Before she could remove the syringe, I was toast. My mental capacity dropped to near 0.
“Wow. You respond fast,” she said.
She laid me flat while preparing for the mission. And just like that, another battle was underway.
While Ted was getting attacked from every possible direction, life outside the clinic was still happening.
My husband and I have been together for 27 years. We have never been apart for an anniversary. But this year I was in treatment while he had to be out of town. This was the first anniversary we have ever been apart.
We had made a deal years ago that we would live to see our 75th wedding anniversary. And I intend to honor that agreement, but it was still sad to miss our anniversary.
My knight in shining armor was so sweet. He had a gift sent to our daughter to wrap.
The bag she wrapped it in said: MAY CAUSE DIARRHEA!
Let me give you some background.
The bag came with the barium I had to take for the CT scan, and we had saved it for a gag gift.
My daughter thought it would bring me humor, which it did. Probably not the bag my husband had intended, though!
Inside the crap bag was a beautiful St. Agatha medal, the patron saint of breast cancer.
If you read her story, we have nothing to complain about! It was a truly meaningful gift, and I have enlisted her in my prayer army. Because even my saints need to be recruited for the takedown of Ted.
Once the chemo started, I decided I’d better cut my hair. I wanted to wait until my husband returned, but I was afraid I was running out of time. It was a sad day, and I cried.
I know my identity is not defined by my hair, but I enjoyed my long hair. It was my built-in sweater. I might freeze to death without it.
My mother gave me the Rapunzel braids, flowers and all, as a last farewell.
A friend from Zumba was a hairstylist, and she got me an appointment at the salon where she worked.
Walking in there with my beautiful braid, everyone asked why in the world I would ever cut it.
Those poor, sweet, lovely people had no idea.
I said, “Because I have cancer and I have too.”
The room went silent. Everyone’s eyes filled with tears.
I quickly said, “Don’t be sad. You didn’t know. Plus, I’ve got this. Ted’s going down, and my hair will grow back.”
Everyone smiled and said I would look adorable with short hair. I wasn’t so sure.
Then one of their patrons decided I needed a gift and paid for my haircut.
Now I am sporting a short, layered bob reminiscent of what Rapunzel’s hair looked like after Eugene saved her.
So see Ted?
I’m still Rapunzel.
You may have stolen my magic hair, but you haven’t stolen my spirit!
Stay tuned for the next episode of Chapter Twelve: Is This a Sci-Fi?
Ready for a Cozier Mystery?
If you’re enjoying The Murder of Ted, you might be wondering where all this talk of clues, suspects, investigations, and murder came from.
Well… I write cozy mysteries. 😉
My Taryn O’Kelly Mysteries are where I get to put all that detective energy to much better use. Taryn is a reluctant amateur sleuth who has a talent for finding trouble, stumbling across dead bodies, and asking questions that people probably wouldn’t.
There are suspects, secrets, twists, humor, and, of course, a little fluffy murder along the way.
If you haven’t met Taryn yet, start with Party Planning for Murder, the first book in the series.
And if you’re already a Taryn fan, thank you for coming along for both adventures, the fictional murders and my very real battle with Ted.
Because when life gets uncozy, sometimes you need a little cozy murder to balance things out.
Until next time, keep sleuthing, keep laughing, and whatever you do… don’t follow the clues into trouble.
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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💗 Want to Help?
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