Introduction

The "Hotel Melanoma" moniker is a metaphor for living with my particular brand of cancer. Except for those lucky few of us deemed "cured", all we cancer survivors are guests of one of the many, many branded hotels in the "Hotel Carcinoma" chain. We can check out any time we like, but we can never leave. Meanwhile, let's be livin' it up; and please support cancer education, prevention, and treatment research.



Tutu Brothers

Monday, February 28, 2011

Our Theme Song


I suspect that only a handful of readers manifesting severe masochistic tendencies have made it all the way back to my initial blog post. So, I’m ‘recycling’ the lyrics to the theme song of this blog, with sincerest apologies to the Eagles………



On a dark mountain highway, cool wind ‘stead of hair
Warm smell of new sunscreen, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a hospital light
Lymph nodes grew heavy, prognosis grew dimmer
I had to stop for the fight.

There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the clinic bell
And I was thinking to myself
‘This could be heaven or this could be Hell’
Then she picked up a clipboard and she showed me the way
There were nurses down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say…

Welcome to the Hotel Melanoma
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
What a lovely case.
Plenty of meds at the Hotel Melanoma
Any time of year (any time of year) you can find them here

Her mind is Ativan-twisted, she got the Thorazine bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty docs, that she calls friends
Should she tan in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat
Some tan to remember, some tan to forget

So I called up my Doctor,
‘Please bring me my wine’
He said, ‘we haven’t done that treatment here since nineteen sixty-nine’
And still those nurses are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say…

Welcome to the Hotel Melanoma
Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)
Such a lovely case
They livin’ it up at the Hotel Melanoma
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise), bring your tumor slides

Scanners on the ceiling,
The pink Zofran on ice
And she said, ‘we will always be patients here, of our own device’
And in the surgeon’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can’t kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
‘Relax’ said the night nurse,
‘We are programmed to receive.
You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave!’

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