sea turtle: the chemo-terrapin

The Ex found a huge sea turtle on the beach in Staten Island on Saturday. He/she had crawled up to the beach and died, and was being buffeted back and forth by waves, but seemed otherwise unwept, unsung, and unremarked by anyone, whether hungry gulls, curious kids or awed beachcombers. This was surprising, because she/he was about 5 feet in length, with a beautiful reddish brown shell and massive flippers, and a beak worthy of myth. We did some research and discovered she/he is (was) probably a loggerhead, and, as such, a threatened species.


I went with the Ex on sunday to photograph the beast. As he said, it seemed important to make some kind of memento mori for this venerable turtle, who must have lived long and prospered in a turtle-ish way. I also asked him to call the Riverhead Foundation, who keeps tabs on marine fauna.

But the eerie, and self-referential thing is this: At the beginning of chemo, I joked to the Ex that I was going to buy a toy turtle for each chemo session, and call them the "chemo-terrapins". Then, after I had accumulated 8, i'd be done with chemo.
On saturday, the Ex called me up, and told me about the sea turtle. Judging from the condition of the turtle, he/she probably died on the day of my last chemo session. The Ex called her/him my chemo-terrapin, her/his death strangely coinciding with the end of chemo, and the end of an era of fear and pain.

This huge, venerable, ancient turtle then, although not strictly speaking a terrapin, became my good omen, my chemo-terrapin. I do not make light of her death, by any means, but omens are what they are. May she rest in peace.