One of my blog’s followers recently saw this slogan emblazoned on a t-shirt. How true this is. (By the way, she’s an awareness crusader with an inspiring blog at www.adventurewithmelanoma.blogspot.com.) But I think there’s something happening here, and the guests of this Hotel are starting to build a bit more brand awareness. The national media folks actually paid a slight bit of attention to the FDA’s approval of Ipilimumab for Stage IV treatment. (By the way, I think Ipilumabab’s brand name “Yervoy” sounds like a Yiddish toast.) And the media is also catching on to the fact that melanoma diagnoses are increasing among young women—to the point where melanoma is just about as big a problem for this demographic group as that popular pink cancer.
But we still have a very long, long way to go. Get this, my wife and I were buying a memory card for our digital camera the other day and they actually come in pink, with a portion of the sales proceeds supposedly going to the “Guess Who” Foundation. Pink memory cards? Yikes, I suspect the time will come when I can only find razor blades in pink. Maybe some tanning salon industry trade group has decided to “sponsor” melanoma and I just haven’t heard about it, but I don’t know of any commercial product or service I can buy that benefits melanoma. (For the record, I bought the manly black model of memory card from the same manufacturer, in a package that didn’t include a black ribbon logo.)
But here’s a song of hope, sung to the tune of Buffalo Springfield’s classic, “Something’s Happening Here”.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5M_Ttstbgs
There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a doc with sunscreen over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop, children, watch those rays
Everybody see what tannin’ pays
There's battle lines being drawn
No tumor’s right it’s everybody's wrong
Survivors speaking their minds
Getting so much assistance from behind
I think it's time we stop, hey, watch those rays
Everybody see what tannin’ pays
What a field-day for the heat
Ten thousand joggers in the street
Singing songs and wearing pink signs
Mostly say, hooray for our kind
It's time we stop, hey, watch those rays
Everybody look what tanning pays
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You have a bad scan, the docs come and take you away
We better stop, hey, watch those rays
Everybody see what tannin’ pays
Stop, hey, watch those rays
Everybody see what tannin’ pays
Stop, now, watch those rays
Everybody see what tannin’ pays
Stop, children, watch those rays
Everybody see what tannin’ pays
The melanoma program at the University of Colorado Cancer Center participated in the clinical trial research that led to Ipilumabab’s approval by the FDA; they deserve your support.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Infusion Line Dancing in Your Recliner
If you’ve just finished a round of chemotherapy, you may not be up to any line dancing for a few days. (After a week of biochemotherapy, I know I sure wasn’t but, then again, I don’t even know how to line dance.) Nevertheless, sit back in your recliner with your laptop or iPad and use your imagination to enjoy the following new lyrics to Alan Jackson’s “Good Time”.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSROm-vgVRk
Drip, drip, all week long
Infusin’ all day from dawn to dawn.
Countin’ the days till Friday night
That’s when all the conditions are right.
For a good time
I need a good time.
Yea, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
They shut the line, got my meds
Put on my clothes, forgot about docs
Sun goin’ down, head across town
Pick up my puppy and turn it around
Good time,
Aahh, I need a good time
Been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
Time for a good time
HEY!
Meds in the hand, Boost on ice
Just like my docs taught me about
Singin’ along, nausea songs
Rowdy aches all night long
Good time
Lord, we’re having a good time,
Yea, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Whew
Heel toe dosey doe
Tumblin’ down stairs, swiggin’ Boost.
Ativan, Compazine
medicine heaven, Double the dose
Good time,
Lord, we’re havin’ a good time
Cause I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Neupogen shots, Boost on tap
Sweet golden puppy set on my lap
G with an O, O with a D
T with an I and an M and an E
And a good time
Shhheww, good time
I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ahh, turn it up now.
Big dose of Zofran.
Boost on tap.
A good looking puppy.
To set on my lap.
A G with an O, an O with a D
A T with an I an M with an E
That spells good time
A good time
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
Time for a good time
Twelve o’clock, two o’clock three o’clock four
Five o’clock we know where that’s gonna go
Closing the door, shuttin’ it down
Run from that hospital way across town
Good time
Ohh, we’re havin’ a good time.
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ohh, yea, a good time.
I need a good time.
Yea, a good time.
Anyone know where I can take some line dancing lessons?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSROm-vgVRk
Drip, drip, all week long
Infusin’ all day from dawn to dawn.
Countin’ the days till Friday night
That’s when all the conditions are right.
For a good time
I need a good time.
Yea, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
They shut the line, got my meds
Put on my clothes, forgot about docs
Sun goin’ down, head across town
Pick up my puppy and turn it around
Good time,
Aahh, I need a good time
Been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
Time for a good time
HEY!
Meds in the hand, Boost on ice
Just like my docs taught me about
Singin’ along, nausea songs
Rowdy aches all night long
Good time
Lord, we’re having a good time,
Yea, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Whew
Heel toe dosey doe
Tumblin’ down stairs, swiggin’ Boost.
Ativan, Compazine
medicine heaven, Double the dose
Good time,
Lord, we’re havin’ a good time
Cause I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Neupogen shots, Boost on tap
Sweet golden puppy set on my lap
G with an O, O with a D
T with an I and an M and an E
And a good time
Shhheww, good time
I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ahh, turn it up now.
Big dose of Zofran.
Boost on tap.
A good looking puppy.
To set on my lap.
A G with an O, an O with a D
A T with an I an M with an E
That spells good time
A good time
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
Time for a good time
Twelve o’clock, two o’clock three o’clock four
Five o’clock we know where that’s gonna go
Closing the door, shuttin’ it down
Run from that hospital way across town
Good time
Ohh, we’re havin’ a good time.
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ohh, I’ve been infusin’ all week
And I’m tired and I don’t wanna sleep
I wanna have fun
It’s time for a good time
Ohh, yea, a good time.
I need a good time.
Yea, a good time.
Anyone know where I can take some line dancing lessons?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Imagine
For Jillian and her family and friends, an update of the Hotel Melanoma rendition of John Lennon’s “Imagine”...
Imagine there's no tannin’
It's easy if you try
No death to know us
Among us only life
Imagine no more people
Living for the rays...
Imagine there's no sun C
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or cry for
And no infusion too
Imagine all young people
Living life complete...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And C's world will be so done
Imagine no infusions
I wonder if you can
No need for docs or chemo
A motherhood as planned
Imagine all mole people
Sharing in the cure...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And our words will be as one
Imagine there's no tannin’
It's easy if you try
No death to know us
Among us only life
Imagine no more people
Living for the rays...
Imagine there's no sun C
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or cry for
And no infusion too
Imagine all young people
Living life complete...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And C's world will be so done
Imagine no infusions
I wonder if you can
No need for docs or chemo
A motherhood as planned
Imagine all mole people
Sharing in the cure...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And our words will be as one
Saturday, March 19, 2011
It's Been a Long Time Comin'
The FDA will soon approve Ipilimumab for treating Stage IV melanoma. This great news makes me want to both cheer and weep. For a mercifully brief time in 2003, my docs suspected that Mr. Schwannoma was a big, honking, untreatable melanoma tumor. A Stage IV diagnosis would’ve been a sentence of certain and imminent death. My favorite band of melanoma specialists once described Stage IV melanoma (in a medical journal article published in 2008) as “uniformly fatal”. Yikes.
But today, thanks to research advances and promising new treatment drugs like Ipilimumab, that’s no longer necessarily the case and metastatic melanoma warriors have good reason to harbor hope that their disease just might become a manageable, chronic one. Still, the long, long journey towards finding anything approaching a “cure” for metastatic melanoma is far from finished. And melanoma continues to be an ‘unpopular’ cancer in terms of government and private funding. I know I’m tagging myself as a member of the Woodstock Generation, but on this first anniversary of my blog I just can’t think of a better way to put my sentiments to music than to borrow Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “Long Time Gone”…
It's been a long time comin'
It's goin' to be a Long Time Gone.
And it appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long
Time, yes, a long, long, long ,long time before the dawn.
Turn, turn any corner.
Hear, you must hear what the doctors say.
You know there's research that's goin' on around here,
That surely, surely, surely will put this beast at bay.
And it appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long
Time, yes, a long, long, long ,long time before the dawn.
Speak out, you got to speak out for more awareness,
You got to speak your mind,
If you care.
But don't no don't now try to get this cancer funded
If you do you had better wait to share.
`Cause it appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Time, such a long long long long time before the dawn.
It's been a long time comin'
It's goin' to be a long time gone.
But you know,
The darkest hour is always
Always just before the dawn.
And it appears to be a long, appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long
Time before the dawn.
For the record, I was still in high school in 1969 and praying for a high draft lottery number. And, by the way, please support the cause of melanoma treatment research at The University of Colorado Cancer Center-- UCCC's work is part of the reason new treatment drugs like Ipilimumab receive FDA approval.
But today, thanks to research advances and promising new treatment drugs like Ipilimumab, that’s no longer necessarily the case and metastatic melanoma warriors have good reason to harbor hope that their disease just might become a manageable, chronic one. Still, the long, long journey towards finding anything approaching a “cure” for metastatic melanoma is far from finished. And melanoma continues to be an ‘unpopular’ cancer in terms of government and private funding. I know I’m tagging myself as a member of the Woodstock Generation, but on this first anniversary of my blog I just can’t think of a better way to put my sentiments to music than to borrow Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “Long Time Gone”…
It's been a long time comin'
It's goin' to be a Long Time Gone.
And it appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long
Time, yes, a long, long, long ,long time before the dawn.
Turn, turn any corner.
Hear, you must hear what the doctors say.
You know there's research that's goin' on around here,
That surely, surely, surely will put this beast at bay.
And it appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long
Time, yes, a long, long, long ,long time before the dawn.
Speak out, you got to speak out for more awareness,
You got to speak your mind,
If you care.
But don't no don't now try to get this cancer funded
If you do you had better wait to share.
`Cause it appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long,
Time, such a long long long long time before the dawn.
It's been a long time comin'
It's goin' to be a long time gone.
But you know,
The darkest hour is always
Always just before the dawn.
And it appears to be a long, appears to be a long,
Appears to be a long
Time before the dawn.
For the record, I was still in high school in 1969 and praying for a high draft lottery number. And, by the way, please support the cause of melanoma treatment research at The University of Colorado Cancer Center-- UCCC's work is part of the reason new treatment drugs like Ipilimumab receive FDA approval.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Infusion Confusion
I’ve been busted by a younger blog reader (and tough melanoma warrior mom) for my boomer tastes in music. So, in response to her request for something a bit more contemporary, here’s an anthem in her honor sung to the tune of the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive”…
Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I'm a doctor’s man: no time to talk.
Music loud and chemo warm, I've been infused alot
since tumors born.
And now it's all right. It's OK.
And you may look the other way.
We can try to understand
that chemo plan’s effect on man.
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cancer breakin' and everybody shakin',
and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
Well now, I get low and I get high,
and if I can't get either, I really try.
Got the wings of heaven on my shoes.
I'm a dancin' man and I just can't lose.
You know it's all right. It's OK.
I'll live to see another day.
We can try to understand
that chemo plan’s effect on brains.
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cancer breakin' and everybody shakin',
and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me.
Somebody help me, yeah.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me.
Somebody help me yeah. Stayin' alive.
Well, you can tell by the way I talk and walk,
I'm a chemo man: no time to balk.
Music loud and chemo warm, I've been kicked around
since tumors born.
And now it's all right. It's OK.
And you may look the other way.
We can try to understand
that chemo plan’s effect on brains.
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cancer breakin' and everybody shakin',
and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me.
Somebody help me, yeah.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me yeah.
I'm Stayin' alive.
If you see me trying to dance to the YouTube video of the original, please look the other way.
Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I'm a doctor’s man: no time to talk.
Music loud and chemo warm, I've been infused alot
since tumors born.
And now it's all right. It's OK.
And you may look the other way.
We can try to understand
that chemo plan’s effect on man.
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cancer breakin' and everybody shakin',
and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
Well now, I get low and I get high,
and if I can't get either, I really try.
Got the wings of heaven on my shoes.
I'm a dancin' man and I just can't lose.
You know it's all right. It's OK.
I'll live to see another day.
We can try to understand
that chemo plan’s effect on brains.
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cancer breakin' and everybody shakin',
and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me.
Somebody help me, yeah.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me.
Somebody help me yeah. Stayin' alive.
Well, you can tell by the way I talk and walk,
I'm a chemo man: no time to balk.
Music loud and chemo warm, I've been kicked around
since tumors born.
And now it's all right. It's OK.
And you may look the other way.
We can try to understand
that chemo plan’s effect on brains.
Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother,
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Feel the cancer breakin' and everybody shakin',
and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me.
Somebody help me, yeah.
Life goin' nowhere. Somebody help me yeah.
I'm Stayin' alive.
If you see me trying to dance to the YouTube video of the original, please look the other way.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends
I had my MRI today, sans Ativan overdose. The scan shows that Mr. Schwannoma is stable and my favorite radiation oncologist says it just might never need another radiation whacking. I’m sure glad for that because it’s almost golf season and I wouldn’t want to spend any of it truckin’ to the Pavilion. (And if I did need more radiation treatments, I’m afraid my insurance company might propose a cost-saving alternative like a trip to Japan and a job on a reactor cleanup crew.) This good news reminds me of a funny thing that happened in preparation for my first experience in goin’ ‘nucular’ a few years ago.
Long story, but I was mixed up with another patient and initially fitted with the wrong type of radiation mask. Consequently, I had to truck on back to the hospital for a second try. I wouldn’t guess that the fitting and targeting process is anything like being waterboarded, but it does involve a certain claustrophobic, smothering sensation. So it’s not something you’d want to do twice in one day. The funny thing is, I didn’t get annoyed about it-- and that’s a bit out of character for a guy who used to exhibit “Attila The Hun” qualities in law practice. I guess that by that stage in my long, strange trip as a patient I’d come to understand that ‘stuff’ happens. Plus, the folks in the radiation oncology department couldn’t have been nicer or more apologetic about the error and they’ve taken great care of me.
So, I’m inspired to offer a song of gratitude for these kind caregivers, sung to the tune of the Beatles' "With a Little Help From My Friends"...
What would I do if they did the wrong thing,
would I haul off and sue them for free?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
and I'll try not to sing out of key.
No, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
What do I do when my tumor’s at bay?
(Does it worry you it’s still your own?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you mad because it still is shown?)
No, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
Could you sue anybody?
No, I need nobody to shove.
Could you seek legal redress?
No, I just know medics I love.
Would you believe in a cure at first sight?
Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time.
What do you see when a tee shot veers right?
I can tell you that I know it's mine.
Oh, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
Could you sue anybody?
No, I need nobody to shove.
Could you seek legal redress?
No, I just know medics I love.
Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I get spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
...with a little help from my friends.
Long story, but I was mixed up with another patient and initially fitted with the wrong type of radiation mask. Consequently, I had to truck on back to the hospital for a second try. I wouldn’t guess that the fitting and targeting process is anything like being waterboarded, but it does involve a certain claustrophobic, smothering sensation. So it’s not something you’d want to do twice in one day. The funny thing is, I didn’t get annoyed about it-- and that’s a bit out of character for a guy who used to exhibit “Attila The Hun” qualities in law practice. I guess that by that stage in my long, strange trip as a patient I’d come to understand that ‘stuff’ happens. Plus, the folks in the radiation oncology department couldn’t have been nicer or more apologetic about the error and they’ve taken great care of me.
So, I’m inspired to offer a song of gratitude for these kind caregivers, sung to the tune of the Beatles' "With a Little Help From My Friends"...
What would I do if they did the wrong thing,
would I haul off and sue them for free?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
and I'll try not to sing out of key.
No, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
What do I do when my tumor’s at bay?
(Does it worry you it’s still your own?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you mad because it still is shown?)
No, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
Could you sue anybody?
No, I need nobody to shove.
Could you seek legal redress?
No, I just know medics I love.
Would you believe in a cure at first sight?
Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time.
What do you see when a tee shot veers right?
I can tell you that I know it's mine.
Oh, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
Could you sue anybody?
No, I need nobody to shove.
Could you seek legal redress?
No, I just know medics I love.
Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I get spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
...with a little help from my friends.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wastin' Away in Melanomaville
I’ll soon be heading off for a beach vacation. Since I’ll be practicing safe sun and hiding under a palapa hut, I thought I could use some beach music to brighten things up. With deepest apologies to Jimmy Buffett, here it goes…
Sippin’ on rum shakes
Watchin' the sun bake
All of those tourists covered with oil
Sniffin’ the sea air
On my big lounge chair
Smell those chumps they're beginnin' to broil
Wastin' away again in Melanomaville
Searching for my lost tube of sunblock
Some people claim that there's a suntan to blame
But I know it's nobody's fault
I do know the reason
I stayed here all season
Nothin' to show but this brand new ‘tattoo’
But it's a real beauty
A surgical cutie
How it got here I do have a clue
Wastin' away again in Melanomaville
Searchin' for my lost tube of sunblock
Some people claim that there's a suntan to blame
Now I think
Hell, it could be my genes
I forgot my flip-flops
Stepped on a hot rock
Burned my heel have to cruise on back home
But there's ‘screen in the blender
And soon it will render
That safety precaution that helps me hang on
Wastin' away again in Melanomaville
Searching for my lost tube of sunblock
Some people claim that there's a suntan to blame
But I know it's my own damn fault
Yes and some people claim that there's a suntan to blame
And I know it's my own damn fault
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Fight Goes On
Here’s a silly, happy song for you melanoma warriors currently undergoing treatment, sung to the tune of the Beatles’ “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”…
Doctor sees his patients at the cancer place...
Patient is a member of his band...
Doctor says to Patient "Boy, I like your case"
And Patient says this as he shakes him by the hand...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on.
Doctor drives his beemer to the cancer store...
Finds a big malignant honkin’ thing...
Shows it all to Patient fainting on the floor...
And as he shows it to him he begins to sing...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on.
In a couple of months they have shrunk it bit by bit,
With a couple of meds flowing in the veins,
Go Doctor and Patient man... (Ha ha ha ha ha)
Happy ever after at the cancer place...
Doctor lets the Patient end the stand...
Patient stays at home and does his livin’ thing...
And in the evening he still sings it with the band...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on.
In a couple of months they have shrunk it bit by bit,
With a couple of meds flowing in the veins,
Go Doctor and Patient man... (Ha ha ha ha ha)
Happy ever after at the cancer place...
Patient lets the Doctor end the stand...
Doctor strays away and finds another case...
And in the evening he's a singer with the band...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on.
And if you want some fun...take Ob-la-di-bla-da (Thank you)
Doctor sees his patients at the cancer place...
Patient is a member of his band...
Doctor says to Patient "Boy, I like your case"
And Patient says this as he shakes him by the hand...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on.
Doctor drives his beemer to the cancer store...
Finds a big malignant honkin’ thing...
Shows it all to Patient fainting on the floor...
And as he shows it to him he begins to sing...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on.
In a couple of months they have shrunk it bit by bit,
With a couple of meds flowing in the veins,
Go Doctor and Patient man... (Ha ha ha ha ha)
Happy ever after at the cancer place...
Doctor lets the Patient end the stand...
Patient stays at home and does his livin’ thing...
And in the evening he still sings it with the band...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on.
In a couple of months they have shrunk it bit by bit,
With a couple of meds flowing in the veins,
Go Doctor and Patient man... (Ha ha ha ha ha)
Happy ever after at the cancer place...
Patient lets the Doctor end the stand...
Doctor strays away and finds another case...
And in the evening he's a singer with the band...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, fight goes on, brah!...
Lala how the fight goes on.
And if you want some fun...take Ob-la-di-bla-da (Thank you)
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Truckin' To The Pavilion
For a lot of guests at this Hotel getting the best available care and treatment involves some road trips. My own March Madness checkup season involves some serious truckin’ so, with apologies to the Grateful Dead, I’ve written myself some road music…
Truckin', got my CIGNA card. Keep truckin', the melanoma man.
Together, more or less on time, just keep truckin' on.
Rivers of pavement and flashing mounties on the highway.
the Springs, the Rock, to Denver, it's all on the same way.
Your typical cities involved in a typical road trip
Drive on up and see what the checkup brings.
Denver, got the Anschutz thing; Houston, with MD Anderson;
New York's got Sloan Kettering; they just won't let you be, oh no.
Some of the docs that you meet on your trip speak in statistics,
Some of the time you're sittin' and hopin' at home.
One of these days they might tell me I just could be dyin'
Out of the door and back down the road all alone.
Truckin', the melanoma man. Docs told me "You've got to play your hand"
Sometimes your cards ain't worth a dime, if you don't lay'em down.
Sometimes the docs are smiling at me;
Other times they can barely speak.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it's been.
What in the world ever became of sun tans?
Pale and white, I guess it’s all part of the plan.
Livin' on hope, vitamin D, and sunblock,
All a friend can say is "Ain't it a crock?"
Truckin', up to Denver slow. Been thinkin', will some tumors grow?
Takes time, to pick the place to go, and just keep truckin' on.
Sittin' and starin' out of the exam room window.
Got a hint they're gonna be late once again
I'd like to get checked out before I expire,
But when docs run the schedule, I guess they always will win.
Got scanned, at the Anschutz place, locked down, like a crazy man.
Gowned up, it get's to wearin' thin. They just won't let me be, oh no.
I’m done with this cheap Hotel and I'd like to break out;
I’m tired of stayin' and don’t want to hang around.
I hope that CIGNA can’t dump me for tryin',
Get out of the door and sprint out and bound all around.
Sometimes the docs are smilin' at me;
Other times they can barely speak.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it's been.
Truckin', I'm a goin' home. Whoa whoa baby, back where I belong,
Back home, sit down and rest my bones, and get back truckin' on.
Hey now get back truckin' home.
Truckin', got my CIGNA card. Keep truckin', the melanoma man.
Together, more or less on time, just keep truckin' on.
Rivers of pavement and flashing mounties on the highway.
the Springs, the Rock, to Denver, it's all on the same way.
Your typical cities involved in a typical road trip
Drive on up and see what the checkup brings.
Denver, got the Anschutz thing; Houston, with MD Anderson;
New York's got Sloan Kettering; they just won't let you be, oh no.
Some of the docs that you meet on your trip speak in statistics,
Some of the time you're sittin' and hopin' at home.
One of these days they might tell me I just could be dyin'
Out of the door and back down the road all alone.
Truckin', the melanoma man. Docs told me "You've got to play your hand"
Sometimes your cards ain't worth a dime, if you don't lay'em down.
Sometimes the docs are smiling at me;
Other times they can barely speak.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it's been.
What in the world ever became of sun tans?
Pale and white, I guess it’s all part of the plan.
Livin' on hope, vitamin D, and sunblock,
All a friend can say is "Ain't it a crock?"
Truckin', up to Denver slow. Been thinkin', will some tumors grow?
Takes time, to pick the place to go, and just keep truckin' on.
Sittin' and starin' out of the exam room window.
Got a hint they're gonna be late once again
I'd like to get checked out before I expire,
But when docs run the schedule, I guess they always will win.
Got scanned, at the Anschutz place, locked down, like a crazy man.
Gowned up, it get's to wearin' thin. They just won't let me be, oh no.
I’m done with this cheap Hotel and I'd like to break out;
I’m tired of stayin' and don’t want to hang around.
I hope that CIGNA can’t dump me for tryin',
Get out of the door and sprint out and bound all around.
Sometimes the docs are smilin' at me;
Other times they can barely speak.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it's been.
Truckin', I'm a goin' home. Whoa whoa baby, back where I belong,
Back home, sit down and rest my bones, and get back truckin' on.
Hey now get back truckin' home.
Monday, March 7, 2011
A Song For All Cures
I may get threatened with trademark infringement litigation for this one but what the heck, blog posts are really easy to delete. So, keeping my head down and refusing delivery of any certified mail, here is my song for the week sung to the tune of The Beatles’ “Revolution”……….
You say this drug’s a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to find our cure
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to find our cure
But when you talk about infusion
Don't you know that you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right
You say you got a new solution
Well, you know
I'd sure love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We’re all doing what we can
But when you want money
for cancers that come back late
All I can tell you is brother they’ll make you wait
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right
Ah
ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...
You say you'll change cell constitution
Well, you know
We all want to find new meds
You tell me it's your contribution
Well, you know
How ‘bout insuring me instead
And when you go holding events with large pink crowds
You ain't going to do much for this old boy anyhow
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right
all right, all right, all right
all right, all right, all right
Here’s a “shooby doo wop” to all, with my prayers for cures for every guest of The Hotel Carcinoma chain.
You say this drug’s a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to find our cure
You tell me that it's evolution
Well, you know
We all want to find our cure
But when you talk about infusion
Don't you know that you can count me out
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right
You say you got a new solution
Well, you know
I'd sure love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We’re all doing what we can
But when you want money
for cancers that come back late
All I can tell you is brother they’ll make you wait
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right
Ah
ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...
You say you'll change cell constitution
Well, you know
We all want to find new meds
You tell me it's your contribution
Well, you know
How ‘bout insuring me instead
And when you go holding events with large pink crowds
You ain't going to do much for this old boy anyhow
Don't you know it's gonna be all right
all right, all right
all right, all right, all right
all right, all right, all right
Here’s a “shooby doo wop” to all, with my prayers for cures for every guest of The Hotel Carcinoma chain.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Awareness Unfairness; Singing Those "Just Skin Cancer" Blues
In the course of my lengthy stay at The Hotel Melanoma I’ve often wished I could move to one of the more ‘popular’ hotels in the Hotel Carcinoma chain. I mean, like, you know, if this Hotel had a Facebook page it would have very few “friends” and almost nobody would “like” it. I think I’ve done my time here so shouldn’t I be allowed to convert from “it’s just skin cancer” to a more famous and fun sort of cancer with lots of hugely successful fundraising events, cool ballcaps and t-shirts, and big corporate sponsors? I wonder if there’s a clinical trial treatment for that.
Why would I sign up for that trial? Well, for one thing I’ve been shipped off to my cancer center’s breast cancer clinic (where my manly presence in the waiting room caused a bit of a stir) because that was the only place one could get a quicky needle biopsy on a suspicious mass. And when a doc who I was seeing about treating side effects of Mr. Schwannoma suggested a visit to the cancer center’s “alternative medicine” clinic, the big hitch was that I’d have to go on a waiting list because, you guessed it, I don’t have breast cancer and this clinic had been funded by a famously pink foundation that has actually threatened to sue other cancer nonprofits who dare to use the word “cure” in their fundraising efforts. (By the way, I initially got kind of excited about the idea of “alternative medicine” because medical marijuana is legal in my home state Colorado, but my hopes were quickly dashed when the doc started talking about acupuncture.) And I can’t even watch the NFL or PGA without seeing pink and feeling left out. Wouldn’t you think that at least professional golfers, for whom melanoma presents a really, really serious occupational hazard, might champion this cause?
I’ll end this rant with a song, once again sung to the tune of The Allman Brothers Band’s “Statesboro Blues”………
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfZdwCtrKWI
Wake up patients, keep your rays down low;
Wake up patients, keep your rays down low.
You got no pink sunscreen baby, to keep the doctors from your door.
I woke up this morning, had them “Just Skin Cancer” Blues,
I woke up this morning, had them “Just Skin Cancer” Blues.
Well, I look at all you patients, and y’all seem to have them too.
Well the sponsors never heard of us,
The pink guys might come sue us,
We ain't near dead yet baby,
Want some awareness sweet and kind.
I'm goin' to the golf course, do I dare to go?
I’m goin’ to the golf course, do I dare to go?
And if I can't play it baby, my handicap will never be so low.
(and I sure will miss it).
I loved that sunscreen, better than any protection I've ever seen;
Well, I loved that sunscreen, better than any protection I've ever seen.
Well, now, it treated me like a king, yeah, yeah, yeah,
I paid lotsa good money like it a dog gone queen.
Wake up mama, we need some awareness now.
Wake up papa, we need some awareness now.
’Cause we ain’t got no sponsors baby, to keep the doctors from our door
Why would I sign up for that trial? Well, for one thing I’ve been shipped off to my cancer center’s breast cancer clinic (where my manly presence in the waiting room caused a bit of a stir) because that was the only place one could get a quicky needle biopsy on a suspicious mass. And when a doc who I was seeing about treating side effects of Mr. Schwannoma suggested a visit to the cancer center’s “alternative medicine” clinic, the big hitch was that I’d have to go on a waiting list because, you guessed it, I don’t have breast cancer and this clinic had been funded by a famously pink foundation that has actually threatened to sue other cancer nonprofits who dare to use the word “cure” in their fundraising efforts. (By the way, I initially got kind of excited about the idea of “alternative medicine” because medical marijuana is legal in my home state Colorado, but my hopes were quickly dashed when the doc started talking about acupuncture.) And I can’t even watch the NFL or PGA without seeing pink and feeling left out. Wouldn’t you think that at least professional golfers, for whom melanoma presents a really, really serious occupational hazard, might champion this cause?
I’ll end this rant with a song, once again sung to the tune of The Allman Brothers Band’s “Statesboro Blues”………
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfZdwCtrKWI
Wake up patients, keep your rays down low;
Wake up patients, keep your rays down low.
You got no pink sunscreen baby, to keep the doctors from your door.
I woke up this morning, had them “Just Skin Cancer” Blues,
I woke up this morning, had them “Just Skin Cancer” Blues.
Well, I look at all you patients, and y’all seem to have them too.
Well the sponsors never heard of us,
The pink guys might come sue us,
We ain't near dead yet baby,
Want some awareness sweet and kind.
I'm goin' to the golf course, do I dare to go?
I’m goin’ to the golf course, do I dare to go?
And if I can't play it baby, my handicap will never be so low.
(and I sure will miss it).
I loved that sunscreen, better than any protection I've ever seen;
Well, I loved that sunscreen, better than any protection I've ever seen.
Well, now, it treated me like a king, yeah, yeah, yeah,
I paid lotsa good money like it a dog gone queen.
Wake up mama, we need some awareness now.
Wake up papa, we need some awareness now.
’Cause we ain’t got no sponsors baby, to keep the doctors from our door
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The Chemo Brain Drain
Now here’s a touchy subject. If you’ve ever felt like your brain was stolen during chemotherapy, trust me you’re not alone. If you don’t believe me, just check out the posts on any melanoma discussion board hosted by one of the melanoma nonprofits.
Although my wife may post a rebuttal comment if she ever reads this post, I think my brain function is much improved compared to the weeks and months immediately following my biochemotherapy treatments. I can now remember my debit card PIN and cell phone number. On the other hand, I still do a lot of nonsensical things like put stuff and look for stuff in some very unlikely places. For example, I’ve never intentionally stored scotch in the refrigerator but I’ve often opened the refrigerator door expecting to find it in there and instead found a carton of melted Ben & Jerry’s (which, by the way, still tastes just fine!). And perhaps it’s just a bit of adult “attention deficit disorder”, but my short term memory, reading retention, and powers of concentration seem diminished. Consequently, “multi-tasking” (with the notable exception of channel surfing between sporting events) has proven to be a really bad idea.
But here’s the scoop. I had a long and informative discussion about the subject with a neurologist/neuro-oncologist whom I was seeing for other reasons, and learned the following. One, chemo brain is for real and you’re not making it up. It just can’t be proven or measured because nobody did any pre-chemo baseline brain function testing on you. And even if they had, the testing environment wouldn’t have matched the “real world” circumstances of multi-tasking under fire where your issues show up. Two, chemo brain is greatly underreported by patients and their families, in part because it’s only an issue for a healthy survivor who’s now trying to put his or her pre-cancer life back together. If I hadn’t been successfully treated and was instead fighting for my life in clinical trial 3.0 then I’d hardly be concerned about forgetting passwords and such. Three, oh by the way, the human brain wasn’t designed and hardwired for multi-tasking and we all vastly overrate our abilities to pull it off effectively. So don’t try to do that and instead focus on one task at a time. Four, we could prescribe an ADD drug like Ritalin for you, which would make nearly everybody believe they suddenly got smarter. But you wouldn’t like it because you aren’t a fifteen-year-old kid and walking about in a manic buzz probably isn’t your idea of a good time. So, just roll with it and be thankful you’re still walking around.
That’s my story, but I’m not necessarily sticking to it. If a potential employer or the like should ever read this blog I’ll deny any knowledge of this post and claim my golden retriever borrowed my blogsite password (which I’ve of course written down somewhere if I can only remember where that is) and wrote the foregoing as an autobiographical piece.
Although my wife may post a rebuttal comment if she ever reads this post, I think my brain function is much improved compared to the weeks and months immediately following my biochemotherapy treatments. I can now remember my debit card PIN and cell phone number. On the other hand, I still do a lot of nonsensical things like put stuff and look for stuff in some very unlikely places. For example, I’ve never intentionally stored scotch in the refrigerator but I’ve often opened the refrigerator door expecting to find it in there and instead found a carton of melted Ben & Jerry’s (which, by the way, still tastes just fine!). And perhaps it’s just a bit of adult “attention deficit disorder”, but my short term memory, reading retention, and powers of concentration seem diminished. Consequently, “multi-tasking” (with the notable exception of channel surfing between sporting events) has proven to be a really bad idea.
But here’s the scoop. I had a long and informative discussion about the subject with a neurologist/neuro-oncologist whom I was seeing for other reasons, and learned the following. One, chemo brain is for real and you’re not making it up. It just can’t be proven or measured because nobody did any pre-chemo baseline brain function testing on you. And even if they had, the testing environment wouldn’t have matched the “real world” circumstances of multi-tasking under fire where your issues show up. Two, chemo brain is greatly underreported by patients and their families, in part because it’s only an issue for a healthy survivor who’s now trying to put his or her pre-cancer life back together. If I hadn’t been successfully treated and was instead fighting for my life in clinical trial 3.0 then I’d hardly be concerned about forgetting passwords and such. Three, oh by the way, the human brain wasn’t designed and hardwired for multi-tasking and we all vastly overrate our abilities to pull it off effectively. So don’t try to do that and instead focus on one task at a time. Four, we could prescribe an ADD drug like Ritalin for you, which would make nearly everybody believe they suddenly got smarter. But you wouldn’t like it because you aren’t a fifteen-year-old kid and walking about in a manic buzz probably isn’t your idea of a good time. So, just roll with it and be thankful you’re still walking around.
That’s my story, but I’m not necessarily sticking to it. If a potential employer or the like should ever read this blog I’ll deny any knowledge of this post and claim my golden retriever borrowed my blogsite password (which I’ve of course written down somewhere if I can only remember where that is) and wrote the foregoing as an autobiographical piece.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
March Madness
Yikes, it's March. Time for the high stakes single-elimination tournament I play whenever I see oncologists for follow-up checkups and a scan. Plus whatever else they may decide to do after spinning the diagnostic Wheel of Fortune my wife maintains is sitting in some back room at the carcinoma clinic and out of sight of we patients. And time to put those stretch New Year's resolutions about being a better patient into action. [See December 27, 2010 post, “Resolutionary Breakthroughs for The New Year”.] Although if you've read them and know me, you're probably thinking "Rich, good luck with that".
I firmly believe that both the melanoma doc (f/k/a Dr. Death) and radiation doc (f/k/a Dr. No) will tell me I'm fine and send me home to do whatever it is I do. But one never knows until the tournament is played and the final scores are tallied. A fellow melanoma survivor with a fine sense of humor refers to a patient's mental state during this season as "scanxiety". We hope (and pray) for the best, while bucking ourselves up to deal with the worst.
In any event, all I can do is show up to play and hope that I come out a winner once again. Based on what the docs have been telling me in the past year or so, I'm a high seed in this year's tournament and a good bet to go all the way. And I don’t mean to the “Final Stage IV”. So put your money on me.
To tip off this season of March Madness here’s a ‘fight song’ for all players, sung (but not by me in public) to the tune of The Grateful Dead’s “Touch of Grey”………….
It must be cancer clinic
Docs are running late
Paint by numbers MRI
Looks so phony
Docs are running everywhere
Start a scanner, curse the glare
Draw the curtains, I don't care
'Cause it's alright
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
I see you got your notes out
Say your piece and let me out
Yes I got the gist of it
But it's alright
Sorry that you probe that way
The only thing there is to say
Every doctor’s finding's got a
Touch of grey
It's a lesson to me
The doctors and the scanners and Big C
The prognoses
We all must face
And try to keep a little grace
I know my bill is in arrears
My insurer has not paid in years
It's even worse than it appears
But it's alright
Docs done gave me Thorazine
This kid could tan at seventeen
The sun I got without sunscreen
But it's alright
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
It's a lesson to me
The doctors and the scans and Big C
The prognoses
We all think of
And try to keep a little love
The scan is on the spot it hits
There's really nothing much to it
Whistle in the dark then split
'Cause it's alright
Oh well a touch of grey
Kind of suits me anyway
That was all I had to say
And it's alright
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
We will get by
We will get by
We will get by
We will survive
I firmly believe that both the melanoma doc (f/k/a Dr. Death) and radiation doc (f/k/a Dr. No) will tell me I'm fine and send me home to do whatever it is I do. But one never knows until the tournament is played and the final scores are tallied. A fellow melanoma survivor with a fine sense of humor refers to a patient's mental state during this season as "scanxiety". We hope (and pray) for the best, while bucking ourselves up to deal with the worst.
In any event, all I can do is show up to play and hope that I come out a winner once again. Based on what the docs have been telling me in the past year or so, I'm a high seed in this year's tournament and a good bet to go all the way. And I don’t mean to the “Final Stage IV”. So put your money on me.
To tip off this season of March Madness here’s a ‘fight song’ for all players, sung (but not by me in public) to the tune of The Grateful Dead’s “Touch of Grey”………….
It must be cancer clinic
Docs are running late
Paint by numbers MRI
Looks so phony
Docs are running everywhere
Start a scanner, curse the glare
Draw the curtains, I don't care
'Cause it's alright
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
I see you got your notes out
Say your piece and let me out
Yes I got the gist of it
But it's alright
Sorry that you probe that way
The only thing there is to say
Every doctor’s finding's got a
Touch of grey
It's a lesson to me
The doctors and the scanners and Big C
The prognoses
We all must face
And try to keep a little grace
I know my bill is in arrears
My insurer has not paid in years
It's even worse than it appears
But it's alright
Docs done gave me Thorazine
This kid could tan at seventeen
The sun I got without sunscreen
But it's alright
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
It's a lesson to me
The doctors and the scans and Big C
The prognoses
We all think of
And try to keep a little love
The scan is on the spot it hits
There's really nothing much to it
Whistle in the dark then split
'Cause it's alright
Oh well a touch of grey
Kind of suits me anyway
That was all I had to say
And it's alright
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
We will get by
We will get by
We will get by
We will survive
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