The Big Picture in Two Parts

Part One
Here's what I'm looking at: There's 35 days of radiation therapy and three bouts of chemotherapy. Its friends would call the latter 'chemo': but now that you mention it, chemo doesn't have any friends outside the companies that sell the stuff. 
Today was dose #9. The radiation sessions happen Monday thru Friday-five days a week for seven weeks. A session consists of them doing a CAT scan to make sure they are picking up where they left off, then there's about five minutes of x-ray bombardment. The whole thing takes about 20 minutes and -in my case-happens every day exactly at noon. I've already had one chemo and told you about it, the second one is next week. The whole thing ends November 10th.
When it's all over they wait four weeks and do a CAT scan. December 8th
The scan is our report card, theirs and mine. There are three possible outcomes.
They may have killed the thing. If they have, we have a 'Borrowed Time Starts Today' party. And we start looking at sailboat ads.
Or maybe they got most of it. Then they have to make a new treatment plan and this blog gets an extension. Frankly, I could do without this one.
The third possibility is that the treatment flat-out didn't work. That's the one where we have a farewell tour, sort of like the Doobie Brothers in '83 or The Band's Last Waltz in '76. That was the concert where they got a big horn section behind them. Did you ever hear a more moving rendition of Stage Fright? You can almost feel the kernel of doubt and fear behind the public persona of the performer and you have to be reminded that we're all performers.
And then there's the anthemic quality of The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down, evoking....ah, but I digress. The third possibility is that I'm going to die soon and miss the chance to play out a weird old age. The thought still makes me more sad than scared, but mostly it makes me want: accomplishment, experience, states of being, the sheer freakiness of being outdoors.

Right now, I'm working with the first outcome, the one we'll call 35 and Out.



Part Two

Tomorrow I’m going to make Creme Brulee. There’s not much to making it: I’ll take a cup of half and half and beat an egg into it. I’ll add some sugar-maybe a tablespoon which is a whole lot less than most folks like, but this is my food. Then I’ll add some Madagascar Vanilla and a few drops of dark rum.
The mix will be poured in two white ramekins, the ramekins go into a loaf pan and I’ll pour hot water around them ‘til it’s halfway up the side. The kitchen will have a high sharp smell-like edible air- as I put the whole bit into a 300F oven. In about an hour, I’ll take them out and let them cool, maybe even chill them a little to tighten them up. (it works on me, oughta work on pudding too) Then I’ll sprinkle the tops with a coating of raw sugar, haul the propane torch up from the basement and work the flame over the sugartop. There’s an craft to it, of course. If I’m careful, the sugar will melt but not scorch and the room will smell of caramel. 

Say the name car-a-mel. Don’t cheat on a single syllable: caramel. Sugar all grown up and ready to go out dancing.
I’ll put a piece of plastic wrap over one of the dishes and put it in the reach-in. It will be a gift. Then I’ll sit the other one on the counter where the skylight is rich and cool and shadow-less. I’ll take a teaspoon and tap the back of it on. . . what? Yes, the caramel and it will crack. I’ll make a dozen pieces or so. I’ll look at them, study them like they were a map of a place I plan to visit next week.  I’ll smile at the vanilla-rum scent that comes through the borderlines. Then I’ll dip the spoon in one of the cracks and lever up-a township? a county? some little division of Carameland. There will be exactly the right amount of eggy dense custard clinging to the crust. I’ll look for a little translucency on the edges-do you remember that tv show-I Love Translucency?
It will take a long time for each bit to dissolve and coat my mouth. Texture, flavor, evocation, drama. The custard will play the part of Love, the caramel will appear in the role of Wit. I will rumble with the beauty of it, I will think of absent friends-and that my dears, is the only possibility.