Lee Fallon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lee_fallon) wrote2016-03-03 06:57 pm
lee_fallon) wrote2016-03-03 06:57 pm
Entry tags:
PSL - Molly Shares Her Magic
His first round of chemotherapy had gone so much better than Lee had expected. He'd been sick, but not overly so, and at the end of it the results had been so positive that Lee had been even a little excited to start round two.
Four days in, however, and Lee was sure the way he felt during round one was a fluke. He'd been miserable since Monday afternoon, had no appetite of which to speak, and anything he had managed to eat (mostly because of Eric's insistence), had come back up not long after. He was given some anti-nausea meds on Wednesday which were helping take the edge off, but his entire body was still aching, his head had been pounding for days, and his gastrointestinal tract was a wreck. This was exactly what he remembered from the last time he'd done chemo years ago, and it hadn't mellowed at all with time.
On Tuesday he'd gone into the woods with Kavinsky and his compatriot, and while they'd made some good progress, the things they'd tried had ultimately failed, sending his would be saviors back to the drawing board. He had two more weeks of treatment, and while he knew he could get through it (he had before), he remembered that his friend Molly Carpentered had told him that she was going to look into some magic of her own when he spoke to her last, and now seemed like a reasonable time to see if she had any ideas. Even if she can't cure his cancer, she might be able to do something about the pain.
So this morning he sent her a text message, and she'd replied not long after, telling him of course she remembered him and that she'd be glad to come by and see what she could do for him. He'd replied with his address and many thank yous, then settled onto the couch to rest while he waited for her to make her way over.
Four days in, however, and Lee was sure the way he felt during round one was a fluke. He'd been miserable since Monday afternoon, had no appetite of which to speak, and anything he had managed to eat (mostly because of Eric's insistence), had come back up not long after. He was given some anti-nausea meds on Wednesday which were helping take the edge off, but his entire body was still aching, his head had been pounding for days, and his gastrointestinal tract was a wreck. This was exactly what he remembered from the last time he'd done chemo years ago, and it hadn't mellowed at all with time.
On Tuesday he'd gone into the woods with Kavinsky and his compatriot, and while they'd made some good progress, the things they'd tried had ultimately failed, sending his would be saviors back to the drawing board. He had two more weeks of treatment, and while he knew he could get through it (he had before), he remembered that his friend Molly Carpentered had told him that she was going to look into some magic of her own when he spoke to her last, and now seemed like a reasonable time to see if she had any ideas. Even if she can't cure his cancer, she might be able to do something about the pain.
So this morning he sent her a text message, and she'd replied not long after, telling him of course she remembered him and that she'd be glad to come by and see what she could do for him. He'd replied with his address and many thank yous, then settled onto the couch to rest while he waited for her to make her way over.
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"We got married twelve days ago," he told Molly, setting his sandwich back on his plate. "His name is Eric, I live here with him," he went on. "He isn't the guy I told you about before. That... I had feelings but he didn't. I haven't seen him since New Years Day," he admitted softly.
"I met Eric a month later," he said. "And I'm as pragmatic as the next guy, but Molly, it felt like fate, meeting Eric when I did. I fell in love with him so fast, and he fell in love with me. I don't know how much time I'll have, and we both want to be married so much, so we rushed it a bit. I know it's crazy, I do, but I'm so happy with him."
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Molly shook her head. "Lee..." She said seriously. "Why didn't you call me? I would have stood witness! That's so great!" She enthused, laughing. As practical as Molly was, she was a romantic at heart. And if anyone deserved as much happiness the world could offer it was Lee.
"If anyone deserves the happiness you have pouring off you right now it's you." She said, grinning. "And maybe we can do something about the time thing."
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"Well, it was sort of a quick decision," he said, smiling. "Eric wanted to get married before I started chemotherapy again, so he asked and we got married by a Justice of the Peace the next day. But we want to have a real ceremony, once I finish this course of treatment," he told Molly. "And, when we do, I'd love to have you there to celebrate with us," he added, meeting Molly's eyes as he reached for his cup of tea.
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"So." She said as she set aside her mug and pulled her bag round to her feet. "How long have you got left on the chemo?" The bag clinked as she started pulling out some of the things she'd bought to try. Various corked green glass bottles lined up in front of her along with a soft piece of leather that wrapped a number of foci she'd enchanted for the basic healing that she knew. She also pulled out two much larger bottles of the tincture she'd given Lee already. If nothing else, he was going to be comfortable.
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He sat back as Molly got into her bag, pulling out just the sorts of bottles and supplies that he would have expected from a magic user in a film. Nothing was marked, but he assumed Molly knew exactly what was in each of those containers without having to open them.
"It's variable," Lee replied. "I'm currently doing a cycle where I get treatment five days a week for two weeks, then I have three weeks off. Next week is my second week of my second round. Sometime the week after that they'll do a scan and see if my tumors have shrunk any more or not. If they have, I'll start another round. If they haven't, they'll stop the therapy," he explained.
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Still, Lee was looking better with the tincture inside him and when she looked at him, she could see it spreading out through his core, into his veins, until the magic had mapped out a path through his tumours.
"Okay. Well I don't think I can do better than the doctors, but maybe I can help slow it down." She picked up a length of fine white wood that she'd spent hours polishing and shaping into a vaguely triangular shape and showed it to him. "This is something I've seen a couple of the older wizards use before. It's a focus. The idea is that the tincture I gave you - as well as making the symptoms ease off - acts as a kind of catalyst to move the energy that's feeding the cancer into the wood. If it turns black then it's worked." She shrugged a shoulder. "It's a first step and it's temporary but it's supposed to starve the tumours of the energy they need to grow any more. With any luck it'll give the chemo time to work better. How does that sound?"
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"I like the sound of that," Lee told Molly with a soft, appreciative smile. "Will I be able to feel it working?" he asked, only curious, not at all afraid. "The energy flowing?"
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"Honestly, I don't know." Molly said, shrugging and shaking her head with a helpless smile. "It's possible. It might even hurt, you should prepare yourself for the possibility at least." She warned, tying her hair back and up out of the way while she shrugged out of her sweater leaving her arms bare.
Sitting forward in her chair, she gave Lee a smile. "Do you want to do it here or your room? Wherever you're comfortable with me being in your space. You might sleep for a bit after."
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"My room," Lee answered Molly's question. "As long as you're comfortable there, I am too," he told her, pushing to stand.
"It's not as clean as I'd like," he said as they walked down the hall toward the bedroom. "I'm a minimalist and most of the things in the house are Eric's. He works a lot and has been taking care of me, and I haven't felt well enough to pick up much."
The bedroom door stood open, and Lee lead Molly inside, sitting down on the bed (which, at least, was made). There was a little pile of clothes on the floor in the corner, a full laundry hamper beside it, and a basket of clean clothes that needed folding. The tops of the two dressers were covered in things that needed to be put away, papers and CDs, Lee's iPod and headphones. All in all it wasn't terrible, but it was still more clutter than Lee had gotten used to over his last few years as a nomad.