Previously on The Murder of Ted…
Autumn was missing, Dead Ted was starring in Weekend at Bernie’s, and a ten-pound poop mystery nearly sent this sleuth to the emergency room! Between cinnamon scones, two hundred fall leaves, and precious moments with family and friends, I was finding little pockets of joy while facing the final weeks of this treatment round.
This week: The final countdown is on, but Ted isn’t making it easy! As treatment nears its end, the clock is ticking, my hip pain is increasing, and an emergency scan suddenly becomes a race against time.
Thank you for joining me on this unexpected, uncozy adventure.
The Murder of Ted
A Series of Unfortunate Events, an Uncozy Adventure
Chapter 18: The Final Countdown
Every good sleuth knows that when a case is nearly closed, you never let your guard down. The final clues can be the most important, and sometimes the suspect has one more trick up his sleeve.
Ted, of course, was no exception.
There are plenty of things people tell you about chemotherapy. They talk about fatigue, nausea, and all the other side effects you might experience. But nobody tells you that you might smell like sour milk.
Yes, really, a burnt sour milk smell.
For me, it was especially bad during the first two days after treatment. I’d wake up, catch a whiff of myself, and be absolutely disgusted. Thank goodness this was my last treatment this round.
I would lie there wondering how on earth my family had tolerated this. I could barely stand being around myself, and I was the one living in my body! Then again, I do have the nose of a bloodhound, so perhaps it wasn’t nearly as bad for everyone else as it was for me.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
My daughter had helped hold down the fort back home while I worked my way through this journey.
She had returned from her enchanted autumn trip for my final week. Now she was beside me as the finish line drew near. I was grateful to have her with me. It also meant I could introduce her to all my new friends.
After spending so much time with the people I’d met during treatment, it was nice to bring her into that part of my world. These people had become part of my daily routine, part of my support system, and part of the story I would carry with me long after treatment ended.
I found myself caught between wanting to be finished and not wanting to say goodbye. I was ready to move forward. I was grateful to have made it this far. But I was also emotional about leaving behind people who had become such an important part of the experience.
It was a strange thing to feel sad about something you’d spent weeks desperately wanting to finish.
I was getting weaker, and the chemo was really kicking my butt. The finish line was close, and it hadn’t been easy. In some ways, these final days were among the hardest.
I had been approached by the clinic’s social media team; they wanted to know if they could film me during my final treatments to show potential clients what we do here. Of course, I said yes!
I’m a Movie Star!
Well, perhaps not the sort of movie star who gets a trailer, a makeup artist, or a call from Hollywood. But I was being filmed during hypothermia, in my super suit, looking perfectly disgusting and sweaty, but hey, there’s nothing glamorous about cancer, and I was happy to play my part.
Besides, after everything Ted had put me through, I figured I deserved a little screen time.
That’s right. I’m a movie star now, and the film is Nightmare on Ted’s Street: The Melt Stick is Coming!
Remember back in Chapter 6: The Witness, when we were trying to figure out how long I had before Ted crossed the line from dangerous villain to permanent threat?
Thirty to sixty days.
That was the terrifying window we’d been given, while LW’s treatment would take about twelve weeks before we knew whether it was working. Three months of waiting to find out if our plan was enough.
Well, those twelve weeks had passed, and the window we’d been so worried about had closed. Now it was time for the scans. We’d done everything we could, and we were waiting with anticipation to see whether it had been enough.
I couldn’t help thinking about Ruth. I hadn’t seen her as much as I’d hoped during all of this because she had a different treatment schedule. Unfortunately, she’d received some discouraging news. She was chasing the cancer all over her body.
Meanwhile, LW’s team had managed to clear Ted’s evil twin from her spine. That was good news, but the battle wasn’t over. Ted’s twin had set up camp in her femur, and after another round of treatment, he’d turned up in her arm, where he is currently residing until the next eviction notice is signed.
It was as though he kept narrowly escaping the battlefield, only to relocate his camp somewhere else.
That was frightening news because I knew Ted could play the same game. To make matters worse, my hip had been hurting more and more for weeks. The pain was particularly bad during hypothermia when I had to lie there for four and a half hours. I’d roll from one side to the other, trying to find some relief, but it was getting harder to tolerate. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, and I was running out of comfortable options.
This week, I could only get my temperature up to 102.2. I told myself that was because my body knew Ted was dead and there was no reason to worry anymore. I really wanted to believe that. So, putting only good thoughts out there, we continued the vision of a Weekend at Bernie’s.
That was my story, and I was sticking to it.
Besides, I had more important things to think about than a disappointing temperature reading. We were approaching the end of treatment, and I was trying to hold on to the hope that all this effort was going to pay off.
It was an emotional week for so many reasons. My guardian angel techs seemed to understand that, and they did what they could to help me through it.
I requested they play “Time to Say Goodbye” by Andrea Bocelli. It was one of my grandmother’s favorite songs, and one of mine, too.
The memories came rushing back, and the tears followed. I was thinking about my grandma, about all the goodbyes that come with a journey like this, and about hoping against hope that Ted really was dead. And if he was dead, how I wouldn’t see Freya and the Valkyries, Dr. Green or Mrs. S., the Guardian Angels of the hypothermia room, or Trish again.
One of those angels looked at me and said, “You can’t cry or else I will.”
I tried, but I couldn’t help it. I cried anyway.
There was just too much emotion packed into those final days. I was exhausted, I was worried, and I was saying goodbye to people who had become such an important part of my daily life. I wanted to be finished with treatment, but I didn’t want to leave behind the people who had helped me get through it, and I missed my grandma.
Sometimes a song can reach a place inside you that words simply can’t.
We played “Hallelujah” and “The Final Countdown” to cheer us up. We all knew Ted needed to be dead, and we needed to say goodbye to each other.
They found the perfect song for the occasion. Queen’s “All Dead, All Dead.”
We laughed so hard, imagining that the song was about Ted, our little guy who was supposed to be dead and buried. After everything he’d put me through, the idea of giving him a musical send-off was just too funny.
In true good form, I ended the song with jazz hands because theater work from my former life was still in my blood. We were laughing together at the absurdity of it all.
Unfortunately, Ted didn’t think it was funny and wasn’t cooperating with our plans for a peaceful ending.
Dr. Green stopped by to check on me at the end of the appointment. She took one look at Ted’s ugly face and immediately asked whether LW had seen it.
I’d sent Ted’s mug shot over to LW’s nurse that morning, so I told her it was already on their radar.
Dr. Green said she’d check in with them. She didn’t like the looks of him, either.
By the following morning, Ted had developed a bloody spot. The skin covering him had become so thin and stretched that I could see the blood vessels and the honeycomb pattern of the fluid underneath. It was not a pretty sight. I was in for my IV with Trish, who took one look at him and didn’t like what she saw, either.
When Dr. Green came to see me, she made the decision to cancel all my remaining treatments. We’d reschedule everything after the PET scan, once we knew what Ted was up to.
My movie star role was short-lived too, thanks to Ted and his creepy lake. He was making sure we didn’t forget who we were dealing with.
We’d been planning to wait two weeks after treatment to allow the inflammation to settle down before doing the imaging. That was the preferred plan, but Ted wasn’t following anyone’s schedule.
If we didn’t get that QT scan before Ted broke through the skin, we could lose our opportunity to get the imaging we needed. Once there was an open wound, I wouldn’t be able to have the scan.
We had a choice to make. Wait for the inflammation to settle and risk losing our chance to scan him, or move the scan up and get the information we needed while we still could.
LW and Dr. Green made the executive decision that getting the scan was more important than waiting the full two weeks.
Ted wasn’t waiting, and neither could we.
My husband sprang into action and called the scan center. Thankfully, they were wonderful and managed to get me in that very afternoon.
The change of plans put quite the damper on saying goodbye to everyone. Instead of a two-day process, I had to quickly search for anyone in the building to give one last hug too. I didn’t have time to cry. The new mission was to get to that scan!
I proceeded to post in our private Facebook group as to why I suddenly disappeared, wished everyone good luck, and promised to come back in a few weeks when we went over the results with LW.
The final countdown had turned into a race against the clock.
Ted seems to like to race a lot!
Every good detective deserves to see the case through to its conclusion.
And Ted? Well, he wasn’t getting the last word just yet.
Stay tuned for the next episode: Chapter 19: Freedom… or Maybe Not?
Need a little escape from life’s uncozy mysteries?
Take a break from the real-life suspense and join Taryn O’Kelly for fluffy murders, quirky characters, and twists you won’t see coming. Because sometimes, you need a mystery where the bad guys get caught and happy endings are guaranteed!
Start with Party Planning for Murder, Book One of the Taryn O’Kelly Mysteries, then follow Taryn through Frost and Foul Play, Cruises, Cocktails, and Corpses, and Sparks, S’mores, and Scandals.
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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