Part II . . . Notes, References, and Shoutouts (Chapters 33-38)
(BbU Supplement #7)
. . . but the last few days I’d been feverish and unsettled. I had not been able to sleep, waking up shivering and wet with sweat. . . I was feeling off; I was feeling small, as if I had collapsed inward upon myself. Just not right, with a headache that would not go away.
The early symptoms of tick-borne diseases and blood cancers can be similar. My husband, for example, came down with severe night sweats and fatigue about a decade ago, and after visiting his doctor, was informed by the nurse that, had they not found a tick bite on him, their initial reading of his white blood cells would have indicated leukemia.
Any thought the world would blink or shudder in the slightest at such a blow brought down upon one of its own, or that the earth’s turning might wobble even imperceptibly was a futile one. I had stumbled, but the world blithely carried on.
Also about a decade ago, I read a newspaper account of a woman who, after being diagnosed with terminal cancer, walked back out of her doctor’s office into the busy city street and was struck by the fact that the world was carrying on exactly as before, not pausing or flinching for a second at her news. This notion of the world’s supreme indifference to one’s fate has always stayed with me. Fortunately for her, the diagnosis was subsequently changed to a rabbit-tick borne disease, and she lived to tell her tale.
Chapter 34. A Land of Grace Down Under
. . . including the Aussie cooking star she watched on TV.—My mother was a great fan of the Galloping Gourmet, Graham Kerr, and watched him daily.
I remember the day we buried our Napoleon.—For Napoleon’s story, see Chapter 28. Like India Ink.
This was only now beginning to be understood and accepted, and it was only last year that a law was passed requiring doctors to report cases to the state.—Lyme disease was just beginning to make the news in the mid-80s, first in Connecticut, and a year later nationally.
In 1987, Lyme disease became a reportable disease. All physicians were required to report any and all cases of the disease. By 1988, the news of Lyme disease spread and national media attention began. A Brief History of Lyme Disease in Connecticut
Grab some doxycycline and get rid of this “lemon/lyme” thing, she counseled.—A school friend of my daughter was given to calling lyme disease “that lemon/lyme thing”.
She turned around and gave me a salute, the exact same gesture I’d made to Lawrence a thousand years ago, and went out the door.—To recall Amy’s salute to Lawrence, see Chapter 7. The Non-victimization of Amy Templeton
. . . we had gone out to dinner at Scribner’s down the block and had polished off a considerable amount of wine.—Long-established seafood restaurant near the water in Milford, CT. Many memories of good dinners and drinking white wine from bottles shaped like fish (Opici Vino Bianco).
Chapter 35. The Power of Feeling
So we arranged to have a simple ceremony held in the garden of the Divinity School at Yale.
As for me, a different doctor and subsequent course of antibiotics had stopped the free fall, had stopped the descent, but did not bring about a return to normal.
The uncertainty surrounding long-term lyme disease, aka Post-Treatment Lyme Disease Syndrome, is similar to what is happening today with long-term COVID: few established facts, a reluctance to diagnose, no proven treatment.
I’d sent Rachel out to Kinko’s to fax Michael a reply . . .—FedEx bought Kinko’s in 2004, and dropped the name in 2008. The company is now known as FedEx Office
Chapter 36. Ghosts in the House
In my mind’s eye I could see him drawing a deep breath of fresh air once he shut the door behind him, getting into his car and throwing it into reverse.
Inspired by the ending of Chéri, by Colette:
. . . because this was the night I had to make a decision. The power of an individual decision.—Referencing Ross’ HRI speech in Chapter 17. Logic upon Compassion.
Once more it was the time of ghosts, the separation between living and dead at its thinnest.
I am a fan of New England /Hudson Valley Gothic, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Washington Irving especially, and most of my stories will include a small homage to these two writers. In this novel, it is this chapter. In The Water Is So Wide, that nod occurs in Chapter 17. Boxcars and Stockyards.
Because these wings are no longer wings . . . From T.S. Eliot’s poem, “Ash-Wednesday,” quoted in Chapter 9. The Night Watch
Chapter 37. An Ace Up Her Sleeve
Many years ago, 60 Minutes did a segment on older people hoarding their medications in order to have the final decision over their own life and death. The idea for Ilana’s story was drawn from that broadcast.
Chapter 38. Extraordinary Ordinary
. . . the air of the house so thick, its molecules drawn into the lungs and exhaled so many times, recycled so many times over the decades, I could hardly draw in any oxygen. . . .
“It’s not real air, you know; it’s moisture broken up. In first-class you’re fine because the air hasn’t been through other people’s bodies yet, but by the time you get to the back of the plane, it’s been through everyone’s lungs and it’s disgusting.” Thom Yorke of Radiohead on one of the many indignities of flying. From “Death Is All Around,” Q Magazine, October 1997.
Top image: Out of reach. Source: “Magnolias on Light Blue Velvet Cloth,” by Martin Johnson Heade, c. 1885–1895. The Art Institute of Chicago. CCO Public Domain.