Hopelessly Devoted To You

I’ve now racked up so many “no worries” six-month checkups with my favorite melanoma specialist that I’ve apparently become a boring patient. Although he’s adamant that I still need to be checked out every six months, he’s suggested a couple of times that I could see him just once a year and see one of his faculty colleagues in dermatology in between an annual pilgrimage to the melanoma clinic.

I haven’t changed course because I don’t really see any benefit in alternating my checkups between him and a dermatologist-- if the latter ever found anything amiss I’d be back on the melanoma doc’s doorstep in a heartbeat and accomplish nothing other than having (and paying for) two conversations about the same problem. Plus I so dislike recounting my colorful melanoma history on a first visit to a new doc and seeing that “I can’t quite believe you’re not dead” look. So, as long as I’m above ground and he hasn’t declared me cured and told me I have no continuing reason to be paranoid about a recurrence, I ain’t going nowhere else by choice.

So, doc, to express my devotion to remaining under your excellent care, here’s a new version of Smokey Robinson & The Miracles’ “Tracks of My Tears”…



Doctor says I’m a star at the clinic
'Cause I’ve beat an odd or two
Although I might have fooled some doctor cynics
This is never through

So take a good look at my case
You'll see my file’s run out of space
If you look closer it's easy to trace
The tracks of my fears

I need you (need you)
Need you (need you)

You can boot me and go send me to another doc
Sayin’ that I'm no more fun
Although your point is moot
I will not substitute
Because you’re the permanent one

So take a good look at my case, uh-huh
You see my file’s (run out of space)
Yeah, look a little bit closer
It's easy to trace, oh the tracks of my fears

Oh-ho-ho-ho I need you (need you)
Need you (need you)

Hey hey -yeah
(Outside) no masquerading
(Inside) all my hope ain’t fading
(I’ll hang around) ooo-yeah, ‘til we put this down
Sunscreen is my make-up
I’ll wear ‘til my break-up with you

Doctor, take a good look at my case, uh-huh
You see my file’s run (out of space)
Yeah, just look closer it's easy (to trace)
Oh, the tracks of my fears

Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor
Take a good look at (my case)
Ooo, yeah you see my file’s (run out of space)
Look a little bit closer (it's easy to trace)
Yeah, the tracks of my fears, oh yeah

Doctor, take a good look…

The Cancer Clique

I attended my 40-year (yikes!) high school reunion this past weekend. If you’ve attended several of these events you know that old high school cliques never die, and new ones tend to form during the course of the event based on shared life experiences.

By my senior year I had migrated to the very nonexclusive Shy Guy Disaffected Slacker Clique. Our main shared interests were to have as much fun as possible without scoring a juvenile court rap sheet, praying for a high draft lottery number, and just getting the heck out of that place and time as quickly and painlessly as possible. (A number of our members rebonded last weekend and took guilty pleasure in observing that some of our non-slacker classmates had perhaps peaked too early in life.) But at this most recent reunion I also fell into a new affinity group of classmates whose lives have been affected by one brand or another of cancer. We didn’t really talk all that much about it, but nonetheless sprouted some new bonds that I hope will continue to grow from the mutual understanding, empathy and hopes shared only by scarred veterans of the cancer wars who can also swap stories about their most embarassing moments as stupid teenagers. Not unlike the Slacker Clique, this new Cancer Clique is one that nobody ever aspired to join. But in a time of life when it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain old ties and bonds frayed by time and distance, new ones of any sort are to be valued.

For all of you former Slackers who’ve excelled as members of the melanoma band of your old school’s Cancer Clique, here’s a new version of “King of Pain” by the Police…



There's a little black spot on my skin today
Not the same old thing as yesterday
There's a black mole caught in a high risk spot
There's a biopsy and the scans won't stop

I have stood here before, inside me ticking bombs
With the docs turning circles searching 'round for balms
I guess I'm always hoping that we’ll reach the calm
But not my destiny to be the king of prom

There's a little black spot on my skin today
(There’s a cure out there)
Not the same old thing as yesterday
(There’s a cure out there)
There's a black mole caught in a high risk spot
(There’s a cure out there)
There's a biopsy and the scans won't stop
(There’s a cure out there)

I have stood here before, inside me ticking bombs
With the docs turning circles searching 'round for balms
I guess I'm always hoping that we’ll reach the calm
But not my destiny to be the king of prom

There's a tumor that's found in a high risk place
(There’s a cure out there)
There's a resident frowning over my bad case
(There’s a cure out there)
There's some protons fired on a shining beam
(There’s a cure out there)
There's a big tumor zapped into smithereens
(There’s a cure out there)

I have stood here before, inside me ticking bombs
With the docs turning circles searching 'round for balms
I guess I'm always hoping that we’ll reach the calm
But not my destiny to be the king of prom

There's a nurse on the phone with some scan news out
There's a doctor looking at a shadow of doubt
There's a patient laying in a clinic bed
There's a resident joking ‘bout new rounds to dread

King of prom

There’s a white coat swarm ‘til my pulse is back
(There’s a cure out there)
There's an angry nurse with a whip to crack
(There’s a cure out there)
There's a little black spot on my skin today
Not the same old thing as yesterday

I have stood here before, inside me ticking bombs
With the docs turning circles searching 'round for balms
I guess I'm always hoping that we’ll reach the calm
But not my destiny to be the king of prom

King of prom
King of prom
King of prom
I'll never be king of prom
I'll never be king of prom
I’ll never be king of prom

A Summer Sabbatical Signoff

I’ll be taking a brief sabbatical from blogging while on a road trip to visit family and friends back in my sizzling hometown (where the overnight low temperature will likely exceed the daytime high temperature here in suburban Monument, CO). For all of you bloggers, facebook page hosts, discussion board posters and others who provide hope, support and encouragement to your fellow melanoma warriors by sharing your stories, here’s a new version of Jimmy Buffett’s and Zac Brown’s fine duet, “Free/Into The Mystic”…



So we live out all our time span
Bloggin’ all across this land
Me and you

We'll end up with sore hands
Tales of hope for our band
Just me and you

Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
Just as free
Free as we’ll ever be

We'll write until our iPad screen
Blows up into some smithereens
Just you and me

Lay underneath the CT scan
Do all the things our doctors plan
Just you and me

Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
Just as free
Free as we'll ever be
and ever ---- be

I was born before the wind
Also older than the sun
And the bonnie fight begun ... as I sailed into the clinic

Hark, now hear the doctors cry
Curse disease and heal this guy
Let my soul and spirit fly into the clinic

And when that IV flows ... I will be cancer free, baby
And when that IV flows ... I want to beat it ... I don't have to fear it
I want to stop this cancer cold ... still knowing that my dreams are bold
And together we will float ... into the clinic

No we don't want a lot of money
No we don't want a lot of money
No we don't want a lot of money
No we don't want a lot of money
No we don't want a lot of money
No we don't want a lot of money
No we don't want a lot of money
All we want is cures

We’re free as we’ll ever be
Just as free
Free as we’ll ever be

So we'll live out all our time span
Keep bloggin’ all across this land
Me and you

Sunspot Ray C

As suggested by my melahomie Paul Hummel, here’s a new version of Bob Seger’s “Sunspot Baby”…



You swelled up my nodes and you sent me down this road
Left me here battered with hospitals owed
You made my old heart arrest
You maxed out my American Express
Sunspot Ray C
You sure made me know I’m blessed

You made me get poisoned like a weed out in my yard
Blew through a fortune on insurance charge
You dimmed my suntan and my brain
Life will never be sane
Sunspot Ray C
Your cure’s a matter of time

They scan me with magnets
They scan me with rays
I hope and I pray that insurance pays
They check all my lymph nodes and they say you are gone
I can't understand why it took you so long

But they whacked you with drugs
And you could not take the load
Hope I am stayin’ on that remission road
You stole my suntan and my brain
And life will never be sane
Sunspot Ray C
We’re gonna cure you sometime
Cure’s a matter of time

Happy Summer Solstice!

You Can't Always Get What You Want

I’m one of the lucky ones, blessed with nearly eight years of “relapse-free survival” after a Stage IIIc diagnosis and completing biochemotherapy treatments. But at every six-month checkup my doc invariably tells me I’m still at risk for a recurrence, and it sounds like I will always be on his watch list. This medical truth sometimes makes me a bit angry and frustrated—not at my doc, just at the reality of this disease. I so much want to hear that I’m “cured” and receive some sort of graduation certificate that I can frame and hang with other mementos on an “I Love Me” wall in my home office.

One the other hand, I often think that my permanent residency at The Hotel Melanoma is a great gift. The melanoma experience has taught me so much that I so needed to learn. (See my blatherings at the end of my very first blog post of March 19, 2010.) The most important lesson being that I’m not immortal so I’d better employ and enjoy my blessings as best I can, while I can. The learning continues. And I doubt that I would learn nearly as much from some readily-curable cancer.

I suspect that some of my old friends think I should’ve “moved on” by now and find it a waste that I blog about what seems to them to be ancient history. I disagree. If my little blog has brought hope, encouragement, and a smile to just one reader then I’m quite gratified and satisfied. In celebration of life at this Hotel, here are some new lyrics to “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Rolling Stones…



I showed up today at the reception
Insurance card in my hand
I know I will never break this connection
At their door is boomer man

I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
But if I try sometimes well I might find
I get what I need

I laid down for examination
To get my next share of good news
Hoping, I’m gonna get no frustration
If I do I’m gonna blow a 50-amp fuse

I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
But if I try sometimes well I just might find
I get what I need

I go up to that cancer clinic
With hope my black cancer’s killed
I was standing in line with other patients
And man, do some look pretty ill
I decided that all should win remission
My favorite tenure, rest of life
I plead my case to Dr. Cancer
Yeah, and he said two words to me, which were “no dice”
I said to him

I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
But if I try sometimes well I just might find
I get what I need

I get what I need--yeah, oh doctor

I saw docs today at the Pavilion
On the screen was a MRI
I am practiced at the state of confusion
Well they could tell by look in my eyes

I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
But if I try sometimes well I just might find
I just might find
I get what I need

I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
I can't always get what I want
But if I try sometimes I just might find
I just might find
I get what I need

Just might be that I got just what I needed?

Deja Vu, All Over Again

This past Melanoma Awareness Month just wouldn’t have been complete for me without experiencing the unique joy of responding to a semi-literate and incomprehensible letter from my health insurance company about some pending claims. I know I’m fortunate to have any coverage, and I’m thankful I still have the mental capacity to navigate automated phone systems and (usually) respond correctly to the computer-generated voice’s questions. But I just don’t get what additional information the insuror’s claims department could possibly now need about the medical necessity for a MRI scan that the insuror acknowledges it had preauthorized. Am I to believe they preauthorize an expensive scan without first determining that it is medically necessary? Only Medicare would do something like that. But my insuror and I still go through some variation of this drill nearly every time I’m scanned or examined. Since we have all been here before I can’t think of a more appropriate song to borrow today than Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s “Déjà vu”…



If I had never been here before I would probably know not what to do
You too?
If I had never been here before on another time around the wheel
I would probably know not how to deal
With all of you.
And I feel
Like I've been here before
Feel
Like I've been here before
And you know
It makes me wonder
What's going on paying my claim

Do you know?
Don't you wonder?
What's going on with insurance.

We have all been here before
We have all been here before
We have all been here before
We have all been here before

The Weather Is Here, My Golf Isn't Beautiful

There’s really no point whatsoever to this post, just an effort to make you smile on a beautiful summer day. So, here’s a new version of Jimmy Buffett’s “The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful”...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7CI7FsHZUQ


He’s seen docs all year just wanted a few weeks of peace
But oncology's into infusing,
He can't stay away from that beast
With sighs he cringes about the hospital
He says "In there there is dying too soon"
The monitors never stop beeping
He'll try that chemo for a round maybe two

Well, he's in his third round before the
snows of the fall hit the ground
Making jokes with the residents
working on hospital rounds
He's also spending some time in the clinic
Too much clinic madness gives him the blues
He makes somes dates to go scanning and testing
Seems living is too much to lose

Pathology’s here I wish it was beautiful
My thoughts aren't too clear but can't run away
Infusing's a bore, this job is too dutiful
Hell, no round is perfect, it’s high time to pray
I feel so savaged today

Well now that was just the start of
a well-insured chemo round binge
Meanwhile deep down inside him certain
bad cells are starting to cringe
His nurses are calling in Code Blues
His poor wife doesn't know what to think
His doctors are infusing concoctions
He's just sleeping and bordering brinks

Pathology’s here I wish it was beautiful
The news is too clear life's so queasy today
This room is too cold, the IV pumps too plentiful
There's no place like home when it's this far away
I don't care what they say

He's finished his chemo so pack it up
and this hospital blow
It was something that he wished he’d done
such a long time ago
Still time to start a new life in remission
Chemo time sure was insane
And if it doesn't work out there'll never be any doubt
That the effort was worth all the pain

Pathology’s here I wish it was beautiful
The news is too clear, life’s so queasy today
This room is too cold, the IV pumps too plentiful
There's no place like home when it's this far away
I need time for to pray
Time for to pray

Today I discovered the key to shooting a lower golf score: play "best ball" with yourself and play fewer holes.

Here Come Our Cures

I’m so very fortunate to be a patient at one of the melanoma treatment centers participating in the clinical trials of promising new drugs like Vemurafenib and Yervoy (a/k/a Huey and Dewey herein). Last fall, my favorite oncologist told me how excited he is to have these drugs in his arsenal-- for the first time in his career he feels like he has something to offer his Stage IV patients. He also told me he thinks there’s a good chance that I’ll never need either Huey or Dewey. With gratitude and hope for a future filled with more melanoma treatment advances, here’s a new version of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers’ “Here Comes My Girl”…



You know, sometimes, I don't know why,
But this cancer just seems so hopeless.
I ain't really sure, but it seems I remember some cancers
Are just a little bit more in focus.

But when I hear great news around me,
I can, somehow, rise above it.
Yeah man, when I see new wonder drugs fighting right by my side,
You know, I can tell melanoma, "Shove it,"

Hey, here come our cures, here come our cures,
Yeah, they look so right, they’re all we need to fight.

Every now and then, I get down to the end of a day,
I’ll have to stop, ask myself, "What've I done?"
It just seems so useless to want to blog so much,
And nothin' ever really seem to come from it.

And then docs look us in the eye, say, "We gonna fight together,"
And man, you know we can't begin to doubt it.
No, because this feels so good and so free and so right,
We know we ain't never goin' change our minds about it.

Hey, here come our cures, here come our cures,
Yeah, they look so right, they’re all we need to fight.

Yeah, everytime it seems like there ain't nothin' left no more,
I find myself havin' to reach out and grab hold of hopin'.
Yeah, I just catch myself wanderin', waitin', worryin'
About some silly little aches that won't amount to nothin'.

And then docs look us in the eye, say, "We gonna fight together,"
And man, you know we can't begin to doubt it.
No, because this feels so good and so free and so right,
We know we ain't never goin' change our minds about it.

Hey, here come our cures, here come our cures,
Yeah, they look so right, they’re all we need to fight.

Please support the cause of melanoma treatment research at the University of Colorado Cancer Center, or through your favorite melanoma nonprofit organization. Give money, kill this blog!

I Want a New Drug!

Here’s a request from a blog reader, some new lyrics to Huey Lewis & The News’ “I Want a New Drug”…

Sing along with the music video of the original:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6uEMOeDZsA


I want some new meds
Some that won't make me broke
Some that will make my tumors shrink
And make melanoma croak

I want a new drug
One that’s a new breakthrough
One that will make insurers say
That my claim’s gone through

One that won't make docs nervous
Wondering what’s the dose
One that makes them feel like my cancer’s on the run
Then my cancer is done!

I want a new drug
One that can’t miss
One that won't cost too much
Or spoil my bliss

I want a new drug
One that won't go astray
One that will make my scans turn clear
One that will take my cancer ‘way

One that won't make docs nervous
Wondering what’s the dose
One that makes them feel like my cancer’s on the run
Then my cancer is done!
I'm all done with you cancer

I want a new drug
One that does what it should
One that won't make my cancer glad
One that will make my doc’s feel good

I want some new meds
Some with no doubt
Some that will make my tumors die
And run my cancer out

Some that won't make docs nervous
Wondering what’s the dose
Some that make them feel like my cancer’s on the run
Then my cancer is done!

A Deer In The Headlights

I expect that most of us have soldiered on through some days or weeks when it seemed like the diagnostic news just kept getting progressively worse each and every time we talked to the docs. My usual response when hearing anything other than happy news from on an oncologist is that my brain freezes a few seconds into the conversation—I see the doc’s lips moving and hear words being spoken, but he might as well be addressing my golden retriever because I’m not comprehending a word he’s saying. Thanks to Jimmy Buffett, I can put one particular experience into new words to a great old song, “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and S***w”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LL9O0B0gzZE&feature=related


I really do appreciate the fact you're sittin' here
Your voice sounds so serious
But your words don't seem too clear
So doctor, draw me pictures, ‘cause I don’t have a clue
Tell me, why do you think that I’m screwed?

Why do you think that I’m screwed?
I just had my CT scan, it
showed up some tumor gloom
You say you think I’m Stage IV
Lordy, I hope that's not true
So why do you think that I’m screwed?

Dumb it down oncologists, here we go...

Why do you think that I’m screwed?
I just had my CT scan, it
showed up some tumor gloom
You say you think I’m Stage IV
Lordy, I hope that's not true
So why do you think that I’m screwed?
Yeah, now doctor I say, (Lord!)
Why do you think that I’m screwed?

This doc turned out to be so wrong, and I’m still here nearly 8 years later. Happy Birthday to me!

The Waiting

I’m one of the most impatient patients on Earth. Waiting for scan or biopsy results drives me to drink- responsibly, Mom. (Although I do some of that in normal times as well, because life has taught me that total sobriety is way overrated.) The longest couple of weeks of my life were from the day I first learned of some CT scan results that showed a large mass next to my spine to the day the docs told me the mass was very likely not a melanoma tumor. Up to then, I’d thought that waiting for bar exam results was pretty excrutiating; but little did I know how much harder waiting would be when the stakes just might be your life. Yikes. With empathy to all who are now living in a state of waiting, here’s a new version of Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers’ “The Waiting”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMyCa35_mOg


Oh Lordy don't it feel like time’s stopped right now
Don't it feel like something from a dream
Yeah I've never known nothing quite like this
Don't it feel like tonight might never quite end
Patients we know better than to try and pretend
No one coulda ever told us 'bout this
I said yeah yeah

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part

Well yeah I might have made a couple doctors insane
All it ever got me was pain
Then there were those that made me feel good
But never as good as I'm feeling right now
Cancer you're the only thing that's ever known how
To make me wanna live like I wanna live now
I said yeah yeah

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part

Oh don't let it kill you readers, don't let it get to you
Don't let it kill you readers, don't let it get to you
I'll be your singin' heart, I'll be your bloggin' fool
Don't let this go too far
Don't let it get to you

UV Inferno

I recently saw an ad for a local tanning salon called “Tan Your Hide”. I couldn’t help but think that frequent patrons will soon look like a piece of weathered old leather, and I hope that slices of those tanned hides don’t end up under a pathologist’s microscope.

As a resident of the Mountain West, I have a libertarian streak and tend to disagree with government nanny types who think they need to save us all from doing stupid things to ourselves. But there seems to be so much evidence that tanning salons are linked to the increasing number of melanoma diagnoses in young folks, even I have come around to believing this industry needs to be regulated in some fashion that protects minors who still think they are invincible. Nevertheless, I guess I’m still enough of a Westerner to sometimes wonder whether a little old-fashioned 'vigilante justice' might just be the solution; so here’s a new version of The Trammps’ “Disco Inferno” from the movie soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever…



Burn baby burn! Burn baby burn! Burn baby burn! Burn baby burn!
Burnin'!

No more tans, yes! One million folks survive
People gettin' pale y'all livin' to tell your tale - Do you hear?
(the beds are flaming) Folks sun screenin' – all in control
It was so entertainin' - when the salons started to explode
I heard somebody say

Burn baby burn! - UV inferno!
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down
Burn baby burn! - UV inferno!
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down
Burnin'!

Satisfaction (uhu hu hu) came in the chain reaction
(burnin') I couldn't get enough, (hope those beds will self-destroy) hope those beds will self destruct, (uhu hu hu)
The heat was on (burnin'), rising to the top, huh!
Everybody's goin' strong (uhu hu hu)
And that is when my torch got hot
I heard somebody say

Burn baby burn! - UV inferno!
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down, yoh!
Burn baby burn! - UV inferno!
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down
Burnin'!

Comments on my blog, I read livin’ tales to share – We are livin!
That makes me know there's (somebody) a party somewhere

Satisfaction came in a chain reaction - Do you hear?
I couldn't get enough, hope those beds will self destruct,
The heat was on, rising to the top
Everybody's livin' strong
Even though my blog’s not hot
I heard somebody say

Burn baby burn! - UV inferno! (Aah yeah!)
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down
Burn baby burn! - UV inferno, yeah!
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salom down
Burn baby burn! - UV inferno! (Aah yeah!)
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down
Burn baby burn! - UV inferno, yeah!
Burn baby burn! - Burn that salon down
Burnin'!

I just can't stop
Till my blog gets hot
Just can't stop
Till my blog gets hot

Burning, burning, burning, burning...

Infusion Rockin'

For all of you tough melanoma warriors in a state of infusion, here's my version of The Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” to kick off your next round…

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


When you start me up
When you start me up I'll never stop
When you start me up
When you start me up I'll never stop

They’ve been scannin’ spots
They are not glowing gotta show my docs
When you start me up
When you start me up I'll never stop
Never stop, never stop, never stop

You make a grown man cry
You make my cancer die
You make a grown man cry
Bring out the Boost, the Thorazine
I lie flat, hooked to a mean, mean machine
Start it up

When you start it up
Kick on the IV give it all you got, you got, you got
I can share smiles with the patients in the other trials
I am toughened up
If you like it you can dose me up
Dose me up, dose me up, dose me up

It makes a grown man cry
It makes my cancer die
It make a grown man cry
My cancer’s beat, my scans are clean
This fight ain’t easy, pump’s a mean, mean machine
Start it up

Start me up
Give it all you got
You got to never, never, never stop
Dose me up, Doctor just dose me up
Dose me up, dose me up, never, never, never

You make a grown man cry
You make my cancer die
You make a grown man cry
Drip down toxics at double speed
It takes me places that I’ve never, ever seen

Start it up
Love the day when we’re gonna stop, gonna stop
Gonna, gonna, gonna stop
Tough me up
Wanna stop, wanna stop

You, you, you make a grown man cry
You, you make my cancer die
You, you make my cancer die

Best wishes to everyone undergoing treatments. I’ve been there, done that, and I know it can make a grown man cry.

Huey and Dewey, In The News

I’m so proud of my little cancer I could burst. Melanoma news actually made it onto last night’s NBC Nightly News With Brian Williams, which reported on newly-released clinical trial study results on Vemurafenib and the FDA’s recent approval of Yervoy. (By the way, this blogger will hereinafter refer to these breakthrough drugs as “Huey” and “Dewey”, the names of two Donald Duck nephews, because these names are easier for me to remember, pronounce and type.) Although this same story also mentioned a new breast cancer treatment drug and received less air time than the lead story on a certain N.Y. Congressman’s Twittering transgressions, it’s still a huge awareness breakthrough for melanoma to be mentioned on the most-watched broadcast network evening news show that had previously reported almost exclusively on that popular pink cancer. I can’t think of a better old song to borrow today than Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changin’”…



Come gather 'round patients
Wherever you roam
And acclaim that the options
Around you have grown
And applaud it that soon
You'll be cured to the bone
If your life to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start hopin'
Or you'll be all alone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come bloggers, come Facebook,
Come twitterers, all online
And keep your hopes high
The news is gettin’ fine
And don't quit too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's savin'
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come FDA, insurors
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For patients get hurt
Because new drugs are stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come doctors and clinics
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
Drugs you don't understand
Your patients, this disease
Are making new demands
The old road is
Rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The cure's comin' fast
The slow drugs now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
This disease is
Rapidly fadin'
And the worst times now
Will later be past
For the times they are a-changin'.

SPF Hype Fever

“Sunscreen… $10
Melanoma treatment… $Megabucks
Your life… Priceless!”

This message comes from Rev. Carol Taylor, a melanoma survivor and the host of a great Facebook cause page called “Melanoma Prayer Center”. In honor of the good Reverend, who’s a 70’s disco music fan, I’ve come up with some new lyrics to the Bee Gees’ “How Deep is Your Love” from the Saturday Night Fever movie soundtrack…


I know you hide from the midday sun
I know you garden in the pouring rain
And the moment that you wander far from me
I wanna spray you on your arms again

And you come to me on a summer breeze
Keep me warm in your love
Then you softly leave
And it's me you need to show
How deep is your ‘screen?

How deep is your ‘screen
How deep is your ‘screen
I really need to learn
'Cause we're living in a world of fools
Tanning in beds
When they all should let it be
You should practice safe UV

I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You're the light in my deepest, darkest hour
You're my saviour when I fall
And you may not think I care for you
When you know down inside
That I really do

So it's me you need to show
How deep is your ‘screen?
How deep is your ‘screen
How deep is your ‘screen
I really need to learn
'Cause we're living in a world of fools
Tanning in beds
When they all should let it be
You should practice safe UV

And you come to me on a summer breeze,
Keep me warm in your love
Then you softly leave
And it's me you need to show
How deep is your ‘screen?

How deep is your ‘screen
How deep is your ‘screen
I really need to learn
'Cause we're living in a world of fools
Tanning in beds
When they all should let it be
You should practice safe UV

Help the priceless people you love practice safe sun!

Celebration Ovation

Tomorrow is National Cancer Survivors Day, and several posts on my Facebook news feed have asked how I’m going to celebrate it. My response is “why just this day”?

One of the many unexpected blessings of melanoma is that the disease has taught me to try to be more thankful and grateful each and every day for all of the finer things in my life, including the fact that I’m still above ground, and celebrate continuously. Just about every other cancer survivor I’ve met along the way is doing the same. With thanks to all the medical folks who’ve given me the gift of cancer survival (but not the insurance companies that were drug kicking and screaming along for the ride), here are some new lyrics to Steve Winwood’s “The Finer Things”…



While there’s still time
Let’s go out and cure everything
If you cure me
I will let you into my dream
For life is a river rolling into somewhere
We must live while we can
And we’ll take our dose of chemo

The finer things keep shining through
The way your doc takes time with you
The finer things I feel in me
The golden dance my life will be

Oh, I’ve been sad
And have walked bitter streets alone
And come morning
There’s a good wind to blow me home
So life is a river rolling into somewhere
I will live while I can
I will have my ever after

The finer things keep shining through
The way your doc makes time for you
The finer things I feel in me
The golden dance my life will be

We go so fast, why don’t we make it last
Life is glowing inside you and me
Please take my hand, here where I stand
Won’t you come find a cure with me
Come see, with me, come see

And doctors try
’til they get the best of the fight
And some mornings
They are tangled up with our plight
So life be a river rolling into somewhere
They will cure when they can
And they think about the fight so sweet

My biggest claims keep getting through
But some of them get lost with you
The finer things I feel in me
The golden dance my life will be

Happy Survivors Day!

Paranoia Strikes Deep

I’m one lucky fellow, having racked up a long series of six-month checkups where the melanoma docs can’t find anything wrong with me. Nevertheless, I invariably hear in these sessions that there’s no guarantee my luck will last. That’s the medical truth, but I sometimes walk out of the clinic thinking it’s a truth that could go unspoken. Like I need any professional help to be a paranoid hypochondriac? So, when my favorite melanoma specialist told me at a recent checkup to keep a watch on a particular abnormal mole and admonished me, as always, to get my tail in to see him between regular checkups if I wasn’t feeling well, Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” immediately came to mind…



Doctor, take this mole off of me
I don’t want it anymore.
It's gettin' big, too big to be
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven’s door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven’s door
Just like so many times before

Doctors put my tan in the ground
I can't have it anymore.
That big dark mole is goin' down
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Just like so many times before

Internet Sensations

One of the many boneheaded mistakes I made as a newly-diagnosed melanoma patient was to immediately launch a research expedition on the Internet. I quickly encountered a lot of truly terrifying mortality statistics at a time when I knew next to nothing about the actual stage of my own disease. Consequently, I lept to the premature conclusion that those nasty statistics probably applied to me and put myself in a state of readiness to preplan my own funeral. Yikes.

My little blog is not exactly an Internet sensation, but I harbor hopes that if a newly-diagnosed patient stumbles onto this site that it just might provide hope and encouragement, and maybe even some smiles. And thanks to Jimmy Buffett’s “Son of a Sailor”, here’s a lyrical journey into my Internet lessons learned…





As the son of a son of a doctor
I went out on the ‘net for adventure
Expanding my view of this cancer come new
Like a man just condemned to indenture

As a dreamer of dreams and a researchin’ man
I have checked out many web sites
Read dozens of lines, learned statistics cause fright
Now I try to avoid them at night

Dumber than dumb, dumber than dumb
Dumber than dumb to be Googlin’
Dumber than dumb, it was no fun
It filled my head with confusion

Look ahead into my future
Still have this disorder
I can shake the hand of my cancer doc
As he tells me all’s in order

And the nurses they toil at hospitals
Takin’ care of patients
Cool down your head, and changing your bed
And thank God they all have lots of patience

Take our scans in and we hope for some grins
As our doctors display them before us
Try not to scream as you look at the screen
It’s the kind of a day that won’t bore us

Where it all ends I can't fathom my friends
If I knew I might cut out my bloggin’
So I cruise along always searchin’ for songs
Just a lawyer who blogs for this cancer

I’m still dumber than dumb, dumber than dumb
Dumber than dumb to be bloggin’
Dumber than dumb, post a new one
It causes pain in my noggin

I’m just a son of a son, son of a son
Son of a son of a doctor
Melanoma’s tame, my prognosis the same
I’m so glad I don't chill in morgue lockers