Cure Fever

A couple of readers have asked if I do requests. I’m happy to try, although I draw the line at rap music. In response to a request for something disco, here’s some new lyrics to the Bee Gees’ “Night Fever”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ihs-vT9T3Q


Listen to the sound:
there is progress all around.
There is something goin' down
and we can feel it.

In the news on the air,
Hear of healin' out there.
And it's somethin' we can share,
we can feel it.

And that ‘skin cancer’ doctor,
He toils in the fight,
Controlling my cancer for years.
When it stays out for me
Yeah, and the feelin' is bright,

Then I get cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to show it.

Here I am,
Prayin' for this moment to last,
Livin' on remission so fine,
Borne from my meds,
Makin' it mine.

Cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to show it.

With the dream of Yervoy,
Don't need no push for us to take it.
Gimme just enough to take me to remission.
I got fire in my veins.
I got scannin’ in the mornin'.
I’ll be glowin' in the dark;
I give you warnin'.

And that ‘skin cancer’ doctor,
He toils in the fight,
Controlling my cancer for years.
When it stays out for me
Yeah, and the feelin' is bright,

Then I get cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to show it.

Here I am,
Prayin' for this moment to last,
Livin' on remission so fine,
Borne from my meds,
Makin' it mine.

Cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to do it.
Gimme that cure fever, cure fever.
We know how to show it.

For the record, I may have been in my 20’s during the disco years but I swear I never owned a polyester shirt.

Black is the New Pink

Okay, that’s a gross exaggeration but May is Melanoma Awareness Month and you can’t fault me for a bit of sales puffing for the cause. Through blogging and social networking (two things that a couple of years ago I’d have sworn I’d never do) I’ve had the privilege of ‘meeting’ some inspiring crusaders who are working to increase melanoma awareness. Among them is the designer of the pictured t-shirt and author of www.blackispink.blogspot.com, from whom I’ve borrowed the title of this post without permission. But I don’t think he’ll mind.

Before checking into this Hotel, I found cancer awareness campaigns to be mildly annoying—and I wanted to tell campaigners to just shut up and go work on a cure. But I’ve come to understand that true cures are likely a very long way off, or might never be found because the mutation rate of cancer cells is such that they may always find a way to work around every new treatment weapon developed. Prevention and early detection just may, at least for the time being, be the only effective means to reduce the increasing number of melanoma deaths. So, my hat goes off (but only in the shade mind you) to all you awareness campaigners.

To celebrate Melanoma Awareness Month, I’ve written some new lyrics to the Eagles’ “Desperado”; every cause needs an anthem and maybe this one will catch on…


Melanoma, why don't you come to your senses
You've been building defenses,
for too long - now.
Ohh you're a hard one.
But know that we'll get your number.
Oncologists beatin’ you,
They’ll cure you somehow.

Hope you draw the queen of Yervoy boy,
She'll beat you if she's able.
You know metastasis is always your last bet.
Now it seems to me, some fine meds
Have been laid upon our table.
And we only want the ones
That you can't beat.

Melanoma,
Ohhhh you ain’t getting no older.
You’re bold but we’re bolder,
We’re taking you down.
Remission, remission.
Well that's just some doctors talking.
Our vision is putting you way underground.

And our skin stays pale like it’s winter time.
Our scans won't glow and the sun will shine.
It's hard to see the fright times from today.
And we’re dodging most your strikes and blows,
And we’re hopin’ that the healing grows
each day...

Melanoma,
Why don't you come to your senses?
let down your defenses, open the gate.
We will be winnin', and there's a bounty upon you.
You better let somebody cure you.
(let sombody cure you)
You better let somebody cure you...ohhh..hooo
before it's too..oooo.. late.


I woke up to several inches of wet snow this morning, so I’m off to borrow a revolver and shoot six holes in my freezer.

Talking About Cancer

As guests of the Hotel Melanoma, we share the experience of people saying things to us that, while almost always well intentioned, strike us as insensitive, ill informed, or just downright stupid. Over time, I’ve learned (at least I hope so) to laugh it off and chalk it up to a simple fact: cancer flat terrifies people because it reminds them of their inevitable mortality, so they quite often react to your predicament with a big dose of denial. What follows is a ‘recycled’ essay on the subject from my first blog post…

One of the things a cancer survivor needs to get accustomed to is that you’ve had and are still living just about the only major life experience that you aren’t supposed to say much about in polite company, even with close friends and family members unless they’re also staying at your Hotel. People will tell you the intimate details of their problems with spouses, work, money and children. But you can’t speak frankly and openly about the cancer experience, even in a positive way or with humor. Don’t even think about mentioning the elephant in the room—the ever-present fearful apprehension that you may not survive this thing and how you’re trying your best to live, and live well, with that elephant. After all, you’ve completed your treatment so you’re “cured” and it’s time to move on and get over it.

It’s not that the people dear to you don’t care, because they do and perhaps more than you know. It’s just a very uncomfortable subject for the obvious reason that it puts them front and center before something most of us spend most of our lives trying to deny— that we’re all going to die of something, someday. Yikes.

I guess my message to friends and family members of cancer survivors is simply this. Cancer is part of your loved one’s life, perhaps at some times an all-consuming part of that life. But my life with cancer--even at the worst of times I’ve written about on these pages--has still and always been a good life worth living as fully as possible for as long as possible. I certainly didn’t want it and can’t say I “like” having it but melanoma has, nevertheless, been a molding and renewing life experience that I’m not certain I would undo even if I could. It’s simply now a part of my life, not all of my life, and I’ve come to accept that it’s probably coming along for the rest of the ride although I’ll still do my best to abandon it along the way. (Perhaps at a Wal-Mart in some uncomely small town.) I think most survivors feel as I do. So lighten up. It’s okay to talk about it, laugh about it, cry about it, or just get angry and defiant about it just like we do about any of the other struggles and challenges in our lives.

Time Warps

Every guest of the Hotel Carcinoma has spent some ‘quality time’ at a cancer treatment center, wondering about in search of the venue for the next event of the day and living in that time warp zone where “he’ll be right with you” has a rather relative and elastic meaning. One of the folks at the AMC Cancer Fund, which raises money to support the University of Colorado Cancer Center, suggested that I put the experience to music, to the tune of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Hazy Shade of Winter”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRwURvCqSOk

Time, time, time, it don’t belong to me
While I looked around
For my next appointment sight
It was so hard to find
But look around, walls are white
And my skin is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the Pavilion music man
Down at the clinic place, you hope to be a better case
Than what they've got scanned
Carry your films in your hand
And look around, walls are white now
And my skin is a hazy shade of winter

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away
It's simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around, my risk is high
My tumor’s ripe, it's the springtime of my life

Ahhh, doctors frown at the plight of me
Writing notes out of sight of me
Won't you come and examine me
At any convenient time
Funny how my memory slips while looking over scan results
Of potential signs
Taking Ativan with wine

I look around, walls are white now
And my skin is a hazy shade of winter

Look around, walls are white
There's carcinoma in their sites...

Look around, walls are white
There's carcinoma in their sites...

Look around, walls are white
There's carcinoma in their sites...

Ahoy Yervoy

I don’t know about you, but “Yervoy” (the brand name for Ipilimumab, a promising new melanoma treatment drug) sounds to me like either a Yiddish toast or a good name for a sailboat. So covering both bases, and with best wishes for a blog reader whom I know is about to embark on a series of Yervoy treatments and everyone else doing the same, I’ve penned some new lyrics to Jimmy Buffett’s great song, “Boat Drinks”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mw4xI4xkeyo
 

Yervoy
Docs on my case ordered Yervoy
Sounds like I won the big lotto
Everything seems to be on

Lately newspapers mentioned great treatments
I gotta stay at St. Somewhere
I'm close to bodily harm

I am Stage III and the Yervoy game's on
Everyone says, I’m not too far gone, screaming

Yervoy, something to keep us all well

This morning I shot six holes in my freezer
I think I've got a high fever
Somebody sound the alarm

I'd like to go where the pace of life's slow
Would you beam me somewhere, Mr. Scott

Any old place here on Earth or in space
You pick the century, I'll pick the spot

But I know I can’t be leaving this clinic
I've got a curse and will kick it

I gotta go where all’s well

Yervoy
Doctor, I need some more Yervoy
Then I'm heading out 'fore my dream blows
I gotta go where all’s well [I gotta go where all’s]
I gotta go where all’s well [I gotta go where all’s]
I gotta go where all’s WELL!

I gotta go where there ain't any docs
who are wearin’ pink Crocs, and no cell counts on watch
I gotta go where all’s well!

Door Number Three

As told in my first blog post, the docs gave me three treatment options after the diagnostic dust settled on Stage IIIc. I chose “Door Number Three”, the clinical trial option, and thanks to Jimmy Buffett have a great old song to put the experience to music. With best wishes to everyone currently facing this difficult decision...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUZN-AOqmqk


Oh I took a wrong turn, it was a fright turn
My turn to have me a ball
Docs in my town told me what was around
If I wanted to play for it all
I didn't know I'd find cures so nearly to me
My whole world lies waiting behind door number three

I chose my physician, knew my condition
And they showed me to the very first room
I held a big sign that said "Cure me I'm a patient,
and Doctor I sure feel the gloom"
Then I grabbed that doctor by his coat
Until he checked on me
Cause my whole world lies waiting behind door number three

And I don't want what FDA's got on its table
Or the drug local doctors point to as the norm
No, I'll hold out just as long as I am able
Until I can unlock that lucky door
Well, it's no big deal to most folks
But it's everything to me
Cause my whole world lies waiting behind door number three

Oh Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, I am hoping for your trial
God be, I won my seat but it’s still not time to smile
Oh I really got sick got hit by a brick
I'll survive just wait and see
Cause my whole world lies waiting behind door number three
Yes my whole world lies waiting behind door number three

If you're considering participating in a clinical trial here's some great information from the American Cancer Society.

Vision Derision

One of the unexpected pleasures of practicing safe sun by taking beach walks at dawn is that one sees very few European man-bikinis at that hour of the day. Neverthless, I’ve been subjected to this visual assault even at sunrise; and I must confess that on these occasions I’ve sometimes harbored the very unkind thought that there’d be some justice done if the thong wearer were to experience a wide local excision of a melanoma tumor in a spot that’d be covered by long baggy swim trunks like mine. I can’t think of a song that better captures this frightful experience than Jimmy Buffett’s “Fins”….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UruXWui1EG8


He came down from Colorado.
It took him three hours on a plane.
Lookin' for some peace and quiet;
hoped to see the beach again.
And now he walks down by the ocean.
He's takin' care to walk at dawn.
He hangs out in palapa huts,
And he gave up on the bronze.

Can't you see 'em approachin' sonny?
Can't you see 'em prancin' around?
You got thongs to the left, thongs to the right,
and you're the only Yank in town.
You got thongs to the left, thongs to the right,
and you're the only Yank in town.

He's savin' up all of his money.
Wants to head down south to play;
Maybe loll in the sand with no cool bronze sun tan,
Somewhere down Mexico way.
And the breeze feels good on the ocean;
Helps to lighten up his load.
Rum keep him high as the days go by.
He's sendin' e-mails from the road.

Can't you see 'em approachin' sonny?
Can't you see 'em prancin' around?
You got thongs to the left, thongs to the right,
and you're the only Yank in town.
You got thongs to the left, thongs to the right,
and you're the only Yank in town.

Flew down to the playa.
It took him three hours on a plane.
Lookin' for some peace and quiet;
Maybe leave behind some pain.
But now he feels some paranoia,
'cause the sight's still close at hand.
Just beyond his hut are the big tan butts
of old guys that still prance on the sand.

Can't you see 'em approachin' sonny?
Can't you see 'em prancin' around?
You got thongs to the left, thongs to the right,
and you're the only Yank in town.
You got thongs to the left, thongs to the right,
and you're the only Yank in town.

Thoroughly Chilled

With a “no worries” checkup season behind me, and having just returned from five days of wasting away under a palapa hut, I’m feeling kind of chilled today. So here’s my song of the day to the tune of Jackson Browne’s “Take it Easy”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kTAT4vj_hI


Well I’m a-running up the road trying to loosen my load
I’ve got seven doctors on my mind
Four that want to bill me, two that tried to kill me
One says he’s a friend of mine

Take it easy, take it easy
Don’t let prognoses of disease drive you crazy
Lighten up while you still can
Don’t even try to understand
Just find a place to make your stand and take it easy

Well I’m a-waitin’ at the clinic that treats my melanoma
It’s such a fine sight to see
And a nurse, my lord, with a big clipboard
Comin’ down to take a look at me

Come on baby, don’t say maybe
I’ve got to know if your sweet cure is gonna save me
We may lose and we may win
But we will never be here again
Open up I’m signin’ on to take it easy

Well we’re a-running up the road trying to loosen our load
Got a world of trouble on our minds
Lookin’ for a new cure that gives us a future
They’re just a little hard to find
Take it easy, take it easy
Don’t let prognoses of disease drive you crazy
Come on baby, don’t say maybe
I’ve got to know if your sweet cure is gonna save me

You know we want it easy
We oughta take it easy

Melanoma Dreamin'

When asked what the heck it is that I do, I usually mumble something about being a recovering attorney, land trust volunteer, and blogger-- and then try to change the subject. (This is a more positive response than the full truth, which is that-- except during skiing and golfing seasons-- I’d sometimes rather be gainfully employed.) Consequently, I haven’t had to suffer through a performance review for quite some time and nobody cares about my billables anymore. But I miss the flagelation. So I thought I’d do a self-review of my performance as a patient during my recent checkup season of March Madness, as measured against my aspirational New Year’s Resolutions published this past December:

Accomplishments

■ I did not use Valet Parking during any visits to the “Name of Rich Oil Guy” Cancer Pavilion, so nobody who’s currently ill had to wait for service while my car was parked.
■ I did not grumble about having to fill out duplicative forms that I’ve completed dozens of times during past visits, even though I still don’t have any body piercings or metallic implants.
■ I completed my MRI without pharmaceutical assistance.
■ Mr. Schwannoma is “stable”, although I deserve no credit for that.
■ The melanoma doc and radiation doc think I’ve become a boring patient.

Areas for Needed Improvement

■ I just could not resist asking nurses and technicians whether they had detected a pulse or if any warm blood had been found in my veins, and I asked the resident who showed me the MRI scan to call my wife and report seeing a brain.

■ I told the MRI tech that I’d prefer an injection of single malt scotch into that IV line rather than contrast dye.

■ I did not react well when one of my appointments was unilaterally rescheduled.

Performance Improvement Plan

■ Screw it, I’m just not ever going back there again.

Overall Performance Rating (On a Scale of 1 to 5, 1 Meaning “Fire This Patient” and Nobody’s a 5)

■ 2.1 (But when it comes to being a patient, I’d rather be lucky than good!)

I’ll end March Madness with a song, to the tune of “California Dreamin’” by The Mamas and The Papas…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dN3GbF9Bx6E


All my moles are brown
(All my moles are brown)
And my skin is gray.
(And my skin is gray).
I've been to the doc
(I've been to the doc)
On a checkup day.
(On a checkup day).

I'd be safe and warm
(I'd be safe and warm)
if I was in the rays
(If I was in the rays)
Melanoma dreamin'
(Melanoma dreamin') on such a checkup day.

Stopped in to the doc’s I hired along the way.
Well I got down on my knees
(got down on my knees)
And I began to pray.
(I began to pray).
You know the doctor likes me pale.
(doctor likes me pale).
He knows I'll stay that way.
(knows I'’ll stay that way).
Melanoma dreamin'
(Melanoma dreamin') on one more checkup day.

All my moles are brown
(All my moles are brown)
And my skin is gray.
(And my skin is gray).
I've been to the doc
(I've been to the doc)
On a checkup day.
(On a checkup day).

If I didn't need him
(If I didn't need him)
I could leave today.
(I could leave today).
Melanoma dreamin' (Melanoma dreamin') on one more checkup day,
Melanoma dreamin' on one more checkup day,
Melanoma dreamin' on one more checkup day.

Highway Hypnosis

My March Madness checkup season has extended into April, due to a rescheduled (not by me) appointment. So, I’ll be hitting the highway tomorrow to go see my favorite melanoma specialist and needed some new road music to pass the time. And what could be a better song for rollin’ down the highway than the Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin’ Man”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1x28jaeyX2s


Lord, I have borne a gamblin' tan
Tryin' to keep on livin' and doin' the best I can
And when comes to peelin' I hope you'll understand
That I have scorned the tannin' plan

Well my doctor was a fellow up in Denver
And he wound up being stuck with my case
And when he heard me askin’ dumb things ‘bout my fate
Big old frown upon his face

Lord, I have borne a gamblin' tan
Tryin' to keep on livin' and doin' the best I can
And when it comes to peelin' I hope you'll understand
That I have scorned the tannin' plan

Aw-right!

I'm on my way to do those screens this mornin'
Headin’ for my checkup look and see
They're always havin' a big time frown at my bio
Lord, them cancer nurses hate the sight of me

Lord, I have borne a gamblin' tan
Tryin' to keep on livin' and doin' the best I can
And when it comes to screenin' I hope you'll understand
That I'm no more a tannin' man

Lord, I was born a tannin' man
Lord, I was born a tannin' man
Lord, I was born a tannin' man
Lord, I was born a tannin' man

A Plea to Management

Ever feel like you’re living in one of the “budget” or “economy” hotels in the Hotel Carcinoma chain? Here’s a musical plea to the management of this chain for just a little more brand awareness for this Hotel, sung to the tune of The Rolling Stones’ “Beast of Burden”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tRdBsnX4N4


I'll never be your least of burdens
My gang is large and it's a hurting
All I want is for you to find a cure for me

We'll never be your least of burdens
We've fought for years our cause is hurting
All we want is for you to come cure this beast

Ain’t we vogue enough
Ain’t we big enough
Ain’t we pink enough
Are you too blind to see

Our cancer is a beast of burden
So let's get down and work for certain
More money from rich donors
Come on doctors make sweet cures for we

Ain’t we vogue enough
Ain’t we big enough
Ain’t we pink enough
Are you too blind to see

Oh little cancer
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, cures
Pretty, pretty
Such a pretty, pretty, pretty cure
Come on donors please, please, please

I'll tell you you can put us out on the street
Put us out with no shoes on our feet
But, put it out, put it out
Put it out of misery

Yeah, all this sickness we can suck it up
Throw it all at us we can shrug it off
There's one thing sponsors that we don't understand
You keep on telling us we ain't your kind of brand

Ain't I rough enough, oh sponsors
Ain't I big enough
Ain't I pink enough in vogue enough
Oh please

We'll never be your least of burdens
We'll never be your least of burdens
Never, never, never, never, never, never, never be

We'll never be your least of burdens
We’ve fought for years our cause is hurting…

April Fools!

Once upon a time, a good joke told by my favorite oncologist flew right by me because my brain was working on a 10-second delay. I was in the clinic for a checkup about 10 days after completing a fourth and final round of biochemotherapy. My doc bounded into the exam room with a grin and announced “Rich, congratulations, you’re our thousandth patient to complete biochemo and you’re the lucky winner of a fifth round!”. I nearly fainted before he explained he was just kidding. To celebrate April Fools’ Day, I’ve put this tale to music to the tune of Procol Harum’s “Whiter Shade of Pale” from 1967’s “summer of love”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mb3iPP-tHdA

I did my last infusion,
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor.
I was feeling kind of seasick,
My doc joked ‘bout one more.
The room was spinning harder,
As the ceiling flew away.
When I called out for an Ativan,
The nurses brought a tray.

And so it was that checkup,
As my doctor told his tale,
That my face at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.

He said there was no reason,
And the truth was plain to see
That I’d finished all my sixteen days,
And could just let it be
All of sixteen big infusions
That were aiming at the beast.
And although my brain was working,
It just did not get the least.

And so it was that checkup,
As my doctor told his tale,
That my face at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale.

For the record, I was not in San Francisco for the “summer of love” because I was only fourteen and my parents wouldn’t let me go.