Remission Daydreamin'

While I’ve been whining about things like health insurance hassles and my lousy golf game, the authors of the blogs linked on the right side of this page have done some great work during Melanoma Awareness Month spreading the word that this disease is not just some harmless skin cancer. So, with thanks and gratitude for these fine melanoma awareness campaigners, here are some new lyrics to Jimmy Buffet’s “Havana Daydreamin’”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJtVfBpMyW4


Stashed my cash in chemo drugs, bought a new lease on life.
Truck on up to Denver town, scannin' time’s at nine.
Waiting for some MRI man, don’t pay me for my time.
Thinkin' about all the money I’ve paid,
doesn’t help to ease my mind
Remission daydreamin' oh I’m just dreamin' my time away.

Doctors knocked that cancer back,
One day it seemed dead.
This boy has a wonderin' feelin'
Swimmin’ around in my head.
Seein’ all those cancer docs,
There are some questions asked,
Tumor’s so lean and my moles still look clean
So I stick right to my task, remission daydreamin',
Oh I’m just dreamin', my time away.

Cancer docs still can scare
My future’s still a whirl,
Some sunscreen on my aging face
And I’m prayin’ for the cure.
Bloggin’ lines and sharin' good times
I hope to make you smile.
It pays not well but what the hell
I'll be livin' for a long, long while,
Remission daydreamin'
Oh I'll be dreamin' my time away

Remission daydreamin'
Oh I'll be dreamin' my time away

Please support the cause of melanoma education, prevention and treatment research. My favorite cause is the Lewis Melanoma Research Fund at the University of Colorado Foundation, but please pick your own and give generously.

Insurance Endurance

I spent some quality time on the phone today with my health insurance company. Round One goes to me-- they’ve acknowledged that they preauthorized the MRI in question and their claims department will be so informed. I just love these folks, and thanks to James Taylor’s “How Sweet It Is”, I have a great old song to borrow to express my devotion…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zls8DFx9UCw&feature=related


How sweet it is to be insured by you
How sweet it is to be insured by you

I needed the shelter of insurance, there you were
I needed someone to understand my conditions, there you were
With delays and commotion
Deeply touching my emotions
I want to stop and thank you claims folks
I want to stop and thank you claims folks (yes I do)

How sweet it is to be insured by you (feel so fine)
How sweet it is to be insured by you

I close my eyes at night
Wondering where would I be without you in my life
Everything I’ve claimed is at your door
Every time I call it seems we’ve been here before
But you brighten up for me all of my days
My claims you’ve denied in so many ways
I want to stop and thank you claims folks
I just want to stop and thank you claims folks (woah, yeah)

How sweet it is to be insured by you (it's just like sugar sometimes)
How sweet it is to be insured by you

(Woah, yeah)

You are slower to pay than a glacier moves
For me, it’s proof that we patients are abused
I want to stop and thank you claims folks
I just want to stop and thank you claims folks (woah, yes)

How sweet it is to be insured by you
How sweet it is to be insured by you (woah, now)
How sweet it is to be insured by you (it's like jelly, baby, woah now)
How sweet it is to be insured by you (just like honey to the bee babe, yeah now)
How sweet it is to be insured by you
How sweet it is to be insured by you

How Can You Miss Me If I Won't Go Away?

To be quite honest (which is a stretch for a recovering attorney) there are times when I wonder whether surviving melanoma this long has been a wise move and I feel like a semi-useful burden. I seem to be unemployable in any position with a decent salary and health insurance coverage, and I’m overqualified to be a WalMart greeter. Self-employed, I’m uninsurable. My current health insurer would prefer I just went away so they don’t have to pay for any more periodic checkups and monitoring scans. According to the talking head pundits on cable news, if I live long enough to be eligible for Social Security and Medicare then I’ll contribute to the looming federal deficit crisis and burden the next generations of taxpayers. My retirement savings have taken a serious whacking in a deep economic recession caused by boneheaded decisions of politicians, regulators, and CEOs, so my wife could really use the proceeds of my life insurance policies. And my anatomy is speckled with hail dents, some visible and some not, which affect my quality of life and daily activities-- including my golf swing, dang it!

I need to stop whining and borrow a firearm and go blast some holes in a discarded refrigerator, but instead I’ve put my current state of mental funk to song, to the tune of “How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away” from Dan Hicks & The Hot Licks…



I've seen all my doctors and I've passed all my scans
They say they've searched, but it's all in vain
You’ve begged and you’ve pleaded
You even got mad
Now we must face it, I give you a pain

How can you miss me when I won't go away?
Keep telling me day after day
But I won't listen, I always stay and stay
How can you miss me when I won't go away?

My never ending presence really cramps your style
You dream that it won't always be the same
At first you were accepting, but after a while
Have I ever heard of the soon-to-die game?

How can you miss me when I won't go away?
You keep telling me day after day
But I won't listen, I always stay and stay
How can you miss me when I won't go away?
And you mean it, too!

Out of 10 thousand patients, why must it be me?
Oh why, oh why won't I succumb soon?
Just do you a favor and listen to your plea
I'm just one more boomer in the brood!

How can you miss me when I won't go away?
You keep telling me day after day
But I won't listen, I always stay and stay
How can you miss me when I won't go away?

Screw the pundits, I won’t back down to melanoma anytime soon so just live with it!

Lies, Damn Lies, and Cancer Statistics

Sooner or later, every guest of this Hotel will have a close encounter of the worst kind with the terms “median survival” and/or “median mortality” with some number of months or years attached to the term. Consequently, evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould’s essay, “The Median Isn’t The Message”, should be on everyone’s reading list; I’ve provided a link on the right side of this page under the patient resources heading.

I’m just a math-challenged recovering attorney but even I get Gould’s very important message, which my simple lawyer mind boils down to these three critical points. One, half the patients live longer than the median. Two, an individual patient with a fighter’s positive attitude, who is otherwise in good health, and who seeks out and receives the best available treatment, very likely has a better than 50% chance of surviving beyond the median. Three, the variation around the median is invariably “right skewed”--i.e., some number of patients among those who live longer than the median, perhaps a lot of those patients, live long beyond the median. And some of those folks on the right hand side of the curve stand at least a chance of surviving to a time when treatment advances become a game-changer.

In honor of Gould, here are some new lyrics to the Beatles’ “Let it Be”…



When they scan myself and find some trouble
Statisticians speak to me
Median survival, I will beat.
And in my hour of darkness
Docs are talking odds on treating me
Speaking odds of dying, I will beat.
I will beat, I will beat.
I will beat, I will beat.
Median survival, I will beat.

And when the doctors talk to patients
Stuck in cancer world with me,
There will be statistics, we will beat.
For though docs may be smarter there is
Still a chance that they can’t see
There will be statistics, we will beat.

We will beat, We will beat.
We will beat, We will beat.
Yeah, There will be statistics, We will beat.

We will beat, We will beat.
We will beat, We will beat
Median survival, we will beat.

We will beat, We will beat.
We will beat, We will beat
There will be statistics, We will beat.

We will beat, We will beat.
We will beat, We will beat
Median survival, we will beat.

And when my scans are cloudy,
There is still a curve right skewed for me.
Skewed into the future, let it be.
I drive up to the cancer clinic
Cancer doctors talk to me
Speaking odds of living, I will beat.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
There will be tomorrow, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
There will be tomorrow, let it be. hoooo' hoooo'

Melanoma is Like Golf

Spring arrives slowly and late at 7500 feet, so my golf season is just getting started. I’m quite untalented at the game, but I don’t really care because I enjoy the heck out of it. And maybe it’s just because I played very little golf before being diagnosed with melanoma, but I’m seeing a lot of similarities between living with a sketchy golf game and living with an uncertain melanoma prognosis.

No matter how hard and diligently I may work at it, I’ll never come close to mastering either golf or melanoma. There will never come a time when my club golf pro pronounces that my game has no room for improvement or my melanoma doc tells me I’m cured. And I’m okay with that on both counts. I can accept that my golf game and my life with melanoma are both journeys with no finish line, except my inevitable mortality due to something, and I’m in no hurry to get there.

Both games require a lot of patience, perseverance, and the ability to shake off setbacks and adversity, put them behind you as best you can, and move on to whatever comes next. I’ve been in sand traps and hospitals that I thought I’d never get out of, but I eventually did.

Golf and melanoma are both sneaky SOB’s. You may be going along thinking things are going great and are under your control, but all the while you know that a jerky swing, an unlucky bounce, or a bad scan may be waiting for you on the next hole or at your next checkup. And whenever such things happen, you can only wonder where in the heck that came from and do your best to deal with it with hope and laughter rather than anger.

When it comes to being a golfer or a patient, I’d rather be lucky than good. And luck has played a major role in my successes as a player and as a survivor.

And last but not least, waiting for diagnostic scan and test results and teeing off on the first hole in front of a whole lot of witnesses have something in common: I’ll simply never do either without experiencing great anxiety.

Putting golf and melanoma into one song was a bit of a challenge, but here’s my best swing at it, to the tune of Talking Heads’ “Take Me To The River”…



I don’t know why I play them like I do
All the anguish they put me through
No more suntans, high handicap
Rarely make pars, my cancer is black
I wanna know how they'll pair me
I want to play

Take me to the golf course, drop me in the hazard
Take me to the clinic, shove me in the scanner
Scanning me down, scanning me down

I do know why I play golf so bad
Think of past years, once swung like a lad
Par is an option that I can't forget
My last sixteen holes, I do so regret
I wanna know what they'll tell me
I need to pray

Take me to the clinic, drop me in the chemo
Push me in the scanner, bathe me in the magnets
Washing me down, washing me
Drug me, infuse me, cure me, heal me
Till I can't, till I can't, till I can't take no more of it

Take me to the clinic, teach me how to swing good
Push me in the sand trap, teach me how to get out
Keep my head down, keep my head down

I don’t know why I play them like I do
All the troubles they put me through
Sixteen over, back nine ahead
And here am I the lucky patient not dead
I wanna know how they'll score me
I need to pray

Take me to the clinic and drop me in the chemo
Drive me to the golf course, drop me in the hazard
Washing me down, washing me down

Infusion Delusion

If I ever have to do any more rounds of chemotherapy, I'm doing them HERE. Okay, that's my delusion about any future infusions. But I'm quite grateful to have survived to a time when, if my melanoma recurs, I'll have some treatment options that just might not be as toxic as biochemotherapy. With best wishes and prayers for everyone undergoing treatments, here are some new lyrics to The Allman Brothers' Band's "Midnight Rider"...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7A2acBVENA


Well, I've got new meds to keep from dyin',
And I've vowed to keep survivin’.
And I've got one more silver bullet,
And I'm not gonna let it catch me, no,
Not gonna let it catch this Baby Boomer.

And I don't want the cross I'm bearing,
And this road goes on forever,
But I've got one more silver bullet,
And I'm not gonna let it catch me, no
Not gonna let it catch this Baby Boomer.

And I’m not past the point of caring,
Some blue gown I'll soon be wearing,
And I've got one more silver bullet,

And I'm not gonna let it catch me, no
Not gonna let it catch this Baby Boomer.

No, I'm not gonna let it catch me, no
Not gonna let it catch this Baby Boomer.

No, I'm not gonna let it catch me, no
Not gonna let it catch this Baby Boomer.

Even Trials Can Bring Smiles

Things got a little wild and crazy during my fourth and final round of biochemotherapy, in part because I had a bad habit of getting out of bed when I wasn’t supposed to. But hey, those nurses never should’ve told me there were battery backups on those IV pumps.

With best wishes for everyone embarking on a clinical trial, here are some new lyrics to
Jimmy Buffett’s “My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don’t Love Jesus”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHw9K9yMots


My head hurts, my sweat stinks, and I don't love chemo (oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that kind of mornin'
Really was that kind of night
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be leavin' Friday night

Went up to the clinic
To get my chemo cheer
Callin’ in a Code Blue
They came runnin’ in fear

All of a sudden I wad'n alone
Gettin' chest compressions by young doc Jones
Chemo ward was jumpin'
My heart they started pumpin'

Because there I laid on the linoleum floor
As they tried to bring me back from my death’s door
Someone call a priest
Doctor won'tcha beat the beast

And now my head hurts, my sweat stinks, and I don't love chemo
(oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that kinda mornin'
Really was that kinda night
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be leavin' Friday night

Gotta get a little Zofran
And Tylenol for my head
Stay another day
Boomer layin' in the bed

I'm callin up those nurses, get some chocolate Boost
Must spend my week with some docs cut loose
I've got to find my cure
Signed up to beat the worst

But now my head hurts, my sweat stinks, and I don't love chemo
(oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that kinda mornin'
Really was that kinda night
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be leavin' Friday night

Let me tell ya, I be leavin' Friday night

I mean I'll be
Leavin'
Friday
Night

Just don’t do anything I’d do and you’ll be fine.

A Patient Pushin' Sixty

I’m truckin’ up to Denver today to see a doc (again) about a retinal problem that may or may not have anything to do with anything else, and I’m feeling a bit glum about the whole thing. But thanks to Jimmy Buffet’s “A Pirate Looks at Forty”, I’m gonna try to grin…



Mela, Melanoma, we will make you fall
Wanted to find a cure for this beast since we first got that call
You've done it all, you've done it all

Watched the docs who fight you look for cures and dream
And in your belly you hold defenses few have ever seen
Most of 'em dream, most of 'em dream

Yes I am a patient, few dozen years too soon
The doctors still wonder, you’re able to plunder
I'm an over-fifty fighter of doom
Arriving too soon, arriving too soon

I've done my bit of fightin', this cancer’s kicked my ass
I spent enough money to buy remission, will I piss it away too fast?
Is it meant to last, is it meant to last?

And I have been free now for nearly eight years
I went down but I rallied and I beat some old fears
And I got to keep wishin', got to keep livin'
Won’t go rock bottom again
Made some new friends, made some new friends

I go for younger doctors, been with several awhile
Though they scare me each day, can’t keep me away
Still can manage to smile
Just takes a while, just takes a while

Mela, Melanoma, after all the years I've found
My situational hazard being my melanoma may be around
I feel like I’ll win, gonna try to grin

I feel like I’ll win, gonna try to grin

Be Wary of Concealed Carry

Once upon a time, a young oncologist doing his post-residency fellowship sort of ‘jumped the gun’ on diagnosing a tumor based solely on CT scan results. He told me that a large mass next to my spine was almost certainly an untreatable melanoma tumor that would put me underground within a year. Lucky for me, my attending faculty doc pulled me back from the abyss and sent me off for a biopsy. The fellow’s initial diagnosis turned out to be dead wrong.

Fortunately, I don’t carry or even own a handgun and never saw the fellowship doc again. So I never had the opportunity to fulfill my urge to shoot him down in the clinic hallways. But thanks to Bob Marley’s “I Shot the Sheriff”, I can express my lingering homicidal fantasies in music…

I shot the fellow
But I didn't shoot no faculty, oh no! Oh!
I shot the fellow
But I didn't shoot no faculty, ooh, ooh, oo-ooh.)
Yeah! Far away from my home town,
He’s tryin' to take me down;
He say he think they found melanoma
Instead it was just schwannoma,
It was just a big schwannoma.
But I say:

Oh, now, now. Oh!
(I shot the fellow.) - the fellow.
(But I swear it was in recompense.)
Oh, no! (Ooh, ooh, oo-oh) Yeah!
I say: I shot the fellow - Oh, Lord! -
(And they say it is a capital offense.)
Yeah! (Ooh, ooh, oo-oh) Yeah!

Fellowship doc nearly cratered me,
With what, he don't know:
Even though I hope for me,
He said can’t kill it, still will grow -
He said can’t kill it, still will grow.
And so:

Read it in the news:
(I shot the fellow.) Oh, Lord!
(But I swear it was in recompense.)
Where was the faculty? (Oo-oo-oh)
I say: I shot the fellow,
But I swear it was in recompense. (Oo-oh) Yeah!

Freedom came my way one day
And I started out of town, yeah!
All of a sudden I saw fellowship doc
Aiming to make me frown,
So I shot - I shot - I shot him down and I say:
If I am guilty I will pay.

(I shot the fellow,)
But I say (But I didn't shoot no faculty),
I didn't shoot no faculty (oh, no-oh), oh no!
(I shot the sheriff.) I did!
But I didn't shoot no faculty. Oh! (Oo-oo-ooh)

Prognosis once got the better of me
And what is to be must be:
Every day the bucket a-go a well,
One day the bottom a-go drop out,
One day the bottom a-go drop out.
I say:

I - I - I - I shot the fellow.
Lord, I didn't shoot the faculty. Yeah!
I - I (shot the fellow) -
But I didn't shoot no faculty, yeah! No, yeah!

The truth is, I don’t hold a grudge against this young doc—he may have erred by getting out ahead of the known facts, but he couldn’t have been kinder or more caring.

One Fight

“My” Melanoma Awareness Month strikes me as a good time to remind myself that every guest of The Hotel Carcinoma is, or at least ought to be, in this fight together. With thanks and best wishes to the author of Melanoma and The City, I wrote some new lyrics to Bob Marley’s “One Love”. Melanoma took Marley’s life, but I think he’d agree with these sentiments…



One Fight, All Cures
Let's get together and be all right
No more people dying (One Fight)
We will be surviving (All Cures)
Sayin' give thanks and praise to the Lord and we will be all right
Sayin' let's get together and win this fight

Let us forget all those inane remarks (One Fight)
There is one question I'd really like to ask (All Cures)
Is there a place for the selfish people
Who ignore all the rest just to save their own?
Believe me

One Fight, All Cures
Let's get together and be all right
As it was in the beginning (One Fight)
So shall it be in the end (All Cures)
Give thanks and praise to the Lord and we will be all right
One more thing

Let's get together to fight all kinds of Carcinoma (One Fight)
So when the Man comes there will be no more doom (All Cures)
Have pity on those whose cancers won’t wither
There ain't no hiding place from the specter of recurrence

Sayin' One Fight, All Cures
Let's get together and be all right
I'm pleading to mankind (One Fight)
Oh Lord (All Cures)

Give thanks and praise to the Lord and we will be all right
Let's get together and win this fight

We Won't Back Down

In celebration of Melanoma Awareness Month and with thanks to all of you melanoma warriors working to spread the message, especially the authors of the very fine blogs linked to this page, some very slightly altered lyrics to one my all time favorites, “I Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers…



Well we won't back down
No we won't back down
You have stood us up at the gates of hell
But we won't back down

No we'll stand our ground, won't be turned around
And we’ll keep this beast from draggin us down
gonna stand our ground
... and we won't back down

(we won't back down...)
Hey patients, there ain't no easy way out
(and we won't back down...)
hey we will stand our ground
and we won't back down

Well we know what's right, we got just one life
with a beast that keeps on pushin’ us around
but we'll stand our ground
...and we won't back down

(we won't back down...)
Hey patients, there ain't no easy way out
(and we won't back down...)
hey we will stand our ground
(we won't back down)
and we won't back down...

(I won't back down...)
Hey patients, there ain't no easy way out
(I won't back down)
hey I won't back down
(and I won't back down)
hey baby, there ain't no easy way out
(and I won't back down)
hey I will stand my ground
(and I won't back down)
and I won't back down
(I won't back down)
No I won't back down...

I just might give up my spot in a clinical trial to hear The Heartbreakers perform this one live for a large party at the Hotel. But then again, no!

Put Me In, Doc

Call me crazy, but I was actually eager to start my biochemotherapy treatments. There are a couple of reasons why a reasonably sane person might feel this way. By this time in my new life with melanoma, I’d grown very weary of a diagnostic process that seemed to me like it progressed at the speed of Congress approving a budget, and I wanted to DO SOMETHING. And I truly didn’t have a clue what I was getting myself into because there’s just no earthly way your doc can begin to describe how radical chemotherapy is going to make you feel. I can’t think of a better song to tell you how I felt on that very early morning when I checked into the 'chemo condo' for Round One than John Fogerty’s “Centerfield”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04KQydlJ-qc


Well, beat the drum and hold the phone – my trial starts up today!
I’m born again, there's new drugs sure to shield.
A-stagin' three, and headed for four, it's a wide-eyed boomer man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.

Oh, put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can feel Remission.

Well, I spent some time in the clinic lines, hopin’ just for the best;
You know they found some nodes that the pricey surgeon cut out.
So mister doctor, get my nurse and call the pharmacy;
Don't say "it ain't so", you know my time is now.

Oh, put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can feel Remission.

Yeah! I want it, I want it!

Got a nice blue gown, infusion line, and not one thing to lose;
You know I think it's time to give this trial a ride.
Just go start the pumps and drain those bags - my cancer’s on the run;
(pop) It's gone and you can tell cancer goodbye!

Oh, put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can feel Remission.

Oh, put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Doc - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can feel Remission.
Yeah!

Yeah!

Music to MRI By

The airline industry, which is not known for stellar customer service, lets me check-in for a flight online and print a boarding pass at home (or even download the pass on a smartphone). So why does the radiology department at a high tech university medical center make me check in for a scan thirty minutes in advance of my appointment, so I’ll have plenty of time to fill out the same paper form I’ve completed on a dozen or so previous occasions to disclose, yet again, that I have no metallic implants in my anatomy?

Oh well, if you’ve been hanging around this Hotel for very long you’ve probably had a MRI or twelve. So you know that even with earplugs it’s really, really loud in that tube. Not to mention boring and claustrophobic. With apologies to ZZ Top, I’ve written some new lyrics to “Tube Snake Boogie” for you to sing along with those banging magnets and pass the time…

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


I got a doc she works cross town,
She's the one that really scans down.
When she boogie,
She do the tube scan boogie.
Well now boogie missy doctor,
Boogie woogie all day long.

I got a doc she works on the clock,
She kinda funky with her pink and black smock.
She likes to boogie,
She do the tube scan boogie.
Well now boogie woogie doctor,
Boogie woogie all day long.

I got a doc, she works on the hill.
She can't scan me but those magnets will,
When she boogie,
She do the tube scan boogie.
Well now boogie missy doctor,
Boogie woogie all day long.
Blow your top blow your top blow your top.

Boomer Gloomer?

For the record, I’ll turn 58 next month and, thanks to losing a couple of scalpel fights with surgical oncologists, I swing a golf club like I’m 20 years older. But hey, since there was a mercifully brief time in 2003 when I don’t think my docs thought I’d see 51, I’m just grateful to still be a live boomer.

Nevertheless, I’m experiencing just a touch of gloominess during Melanoma Awareness Month. So much of the melanoma awareness news I’m reading emphasizes the growing impact of this beast on 20-somethings, particularly young women who’ve dwelled in tanning beds. Don’t get me wrong, that’s an awful truth that needs to be told and I commend the awareness campaigners who are telling it, but am I to infer from this very important message that if melanoma was “just” a problem for old boomer guys of Celtic descent we should care less about it? Yikes.

I know there are a lot of deficit hawks in Congress who’d like to float me off in a kayak into Arctic seas before I become eligible for Medicare or Social Security benefits. Sorry, I’m just not willing to volunteer for that mission or succumb to melanoma any time soon. So, as a proud member of a demographic group that, I’ll readily admit, is often a bit too self-absorbed, I defiantly shout out to all melanoma awareness campaigners “me too”!

Awareness Disparateness

My melanoma doc told me last fall that this cancer has been one of the forgotten stepchildren in the cancer world when it comes to the development of new and more effective treatment drugs. But I’m very hopeful that things are beginning to change for the better. The FDA recently approved a new Stage IV treatment drug (Yervoy) and that hadn’t happened since back in the 90’s when I’d have guessed “SPF” meant something in a singles ad that I’d rather not know about. And every day, thanks to melanoma warriors sharing their stories and organizations like the Aim at Melanoma Foundation and the Melanoma Research Foundation, more people learn that melanoma isn’t just some harmless “skin cancer” that can always and forever be cured by a simple surgical procedure.

Still, I’m betting that I won’t hear Melanoma Awareness Month mentioned in any featured stories about “our” cancer on the “NBC Nightly News With Brian Williams” or the like, because we haven’t yet arrived at the day when “Black is the New Pink”. But then again, what does it say about the cancer world when any particular brand of cancer has its very own awareness month? There are a lot of cancer brands in The Hotel Carcinoma chain and only twelve months to divvy up, so who decides which brands get their very own month and which get left out or have to share a month? Does cancer fundraising and awareness campaigning really need to be a fragmented, zero-sum game of competition among various cancer brands and cancer nonprofits—a game in which one nonprofit threatens to sue another for trademark infringement?

But I guess I’d rather rock than continue to rant, so here’s some fractured new lyrics to Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers’ “Refugee”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFnOfpIJL0M


We got somethin', we all know it,
They don't talk too much about it.
Ain't no real big secret anymore,
But still, it’s not pink cancer.

It does really matter to you, people,
You releave if you start to believe,
You don’t want to have cancer refugees
(Don’t want to have cancer refugees)

Somewhere, somehow,
’black cancer’ might come kick you around some.
Tell me why you wanna sit there and hold on to your delusions.

It does make a difference to you, people,
Everybody wants to be cancer free,
You don’t want to have cancer refugees.
(Don’t want to have cancer refugees)

People, we ain't the first.
We’re sure a lot of other tanners have been burned.
Right now this seems fake to you,
And it's one of those things you gotta have to be true

Somewhere, somehow,
Our cancer may come kick you around some.
Who knows? Maybe you were kidnapped,
Tied up, taken away, and made to tan some.

It does really matter to you, people,
Everybody wants to be cancer free,
You don’t want to have cancer refugees.

Maybe it’s time for all of us at The Hotel Carcinoma to think and work beyond our own favorite cancer causes and try to collaborate for the common benefit of everyone fighting every cancer.

Climbing Out of Our Silos

After checking into The Hotel Carcinoma, we quite naturally tend to become quite engrossed in “our” cancer. If we’re fortunate to find ourselves well enough to get involved in cancer education, prevention and fundraising efforts, those efforts are almost always focused on our favorite cancer brand. Just look at me, for example. I’d have to plead nolo contendere to the charge that my little campaign has thus far been pretty selfish and self-centered. I could’ve named this blog “Welcome to The Hotel Carcinoma”, but I didn’t, and I often grumble about the fact that “my" cancer doesn’t get as much attention as others.

Something happened last week that makes me wonder whether I ought to climb out of my silo. I had the privilege of meeting a local family whose members are looking into starting a cancer nonprofit. Shortly after the father was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2007, the nine-year-old daughter started a fundraising project called “Mason’s Wish” with a simple and quite ecumenical mission: “working to raise funds to support cancer research for hope in a cure”. Not just her dad’s cancer, but all cancers. To date, Mason’s Wish has raised over $30,000, mostly by selling things like scented candles and t-shirts, and donated the money to various cancer research organizations including a center for basic cancer research at mom and dad’s alma mater, Kansas State University. It bears repeating: not just her dad’s cancer, but all cancers. Please visit her website and check it out: www.masonswish.com.

Maybe “my” Melanoma Awareness Month is a good time for this old dog to try to learn some new tricks from a very inspiring young lady.

A Time For Gratitude

I’m reminded on this first day of Melanoma Awareness Month how truly fortunate I’ve been. Thanks to a bunch of great docs at the University of Colorado Cancer Center, I’m still above ground and blogging nearly eight years after receiving a Stage IIIc diagnosis, with a warped sense of humor about my journey still intact. With best wishes to all, particularly you parrotheads, I’ll kick off “our” month with some new lyrics to Jimmy Buffett’s “Changes in Latitudes”…

I took off for a beach trip last month
Just to try and forget some old fears
All of the clinics and all of the cynics
Wonderin’ if they will reappear
I didn't ponder my future too long
I was lazy and sat under my hut
Hidin’ out from the sun with a cool drink of rum
And I wound up restin’ my butt

It’s these changes in gratitude, changes in attitude
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our hoping and all of our coping
If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane

Reading department signs in some big clinic
Reminds me of the places I’ve been
Visions of bad times that brought so much terror
I don’t want to go back again
If I suddenly recurred tomorrow
I could somehow adjust to the fall
Good times and stitches and docs earnin’ riches
I’ve seen more than I can recall

These changes in gratitude, changes in attitude
Nothing remains quite the same
Through all of the scanning and end of our tanning
If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane

Reminded of cancer when seein’ those doctors
I think I could jump from a plane
All of the time I just want more remission
God I wish I was sunnin’ again
Oh, yesterday’s over my shoulder
So I can't look back for too long
There's just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just will live long

With these changes in gratitude, changes in attitude
Nothing remains quite the same
Through all our surviving and all of our fighting
If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane
If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane
If we weren’t all crazy we would go insane

Please observe this month by making a donation to your favorite melanoma nonprofit organization to support melanoma education, prevention, and treatment research. My own selfishly preferred cause is the Lewis Melanoma Research Fund at The University of Colorado Foundation, and you’ll find a secure donation link on the right hand side of this page. With a really big donation you can single handedly kill this blog.