Headin' For The Hills

I’ve abandoned my misbehaving golf clubs at a local pawnshop and am heading to the high country to chill for a few days. So, I’ll leave you with a new version of
The Band’s “Up on Cripple Creek”…

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


If I get out of this madness, you know where I want to go?
Far from those melanoma doctors, to a beach in Mexico
To The Hotel Melanoma, little beach resort where I can chill
They told me just to check on in, I might never have to pay the bill

It’s a chemo week, it bends me
If I spring a leak, docs mend me
And I can’t seem to speak, words de-“friend” me
A four-day scream if I ever did see one

Bad luck had just stung me, to the clinic I did go
They bet on Stage IV to win if my CT scans started to glow
The odds weren’t in my favor, they had me four to one
When those scans came back, all were negative, sure enough I had won

It’s a chemo week, it bends me
If I spring a leak, docs mend me
And I can’t seem to speak, words de-“friend” me
A four-day scream if I ever did see one

I ran up all of these billings, and insurance tried to deny half
We call them up and get old while on hold, just for a laugh
Now there's one thing in the whole wide world, I sure would like to see
That's when that insurance of mine pays a claim before I plead

It’s a chemo week, it bends me
If I spring a leak, docs mend me
And I can’t seem to speak, words de-“friend” me
A four-day scream if I ever did see one

Now me and my doc were talkin’ one day, ‘bout new trial stats on his flock
I said, "I don't get one thing you say, but I love to hear you talk"
Those stats just gave my heart a throb, to the bottom of my feet
And I swore as I took another look, black cancer might be beat

It’s a chemo week, it bends me
If I spring a leak, docs mend me
And I can’t seem to speak, words de-“friend” me
A four-day scream if I ever did see one

Saw some docs out in Colorado and my cancer’s been stopped cold
But the dining at this Hotel’s getting pretty old
So I guess I'll call up the Concierge, tell him I'll be ord’ring in
And you know, deep down, I'm kind of guessin’
I’ll have to kick black cancer again.

It’s a chemo week, it bends me
If I spring a leak, docs mend me
And I can’t seem to speak, words de-“friend” me
A four-day scream if I ever did see one

Back In The Wild

The University of Colorado Cancer Center is looking for cancer survivors to take part in a new clinical trial program, aimed at helping survivors manage the long term physical and emotional impacts of treatment. What a wonderful idea. How I wish this program had existed back in 2004 when, as my fellow blogger Paul puts it, I was “released back into the wild” after completing biochemotherapy treatments.

At the time the docs pronounced me fit for duty and encouraged my return to life before melanoma, I was struggling both physically and mentally. I couldn’t remember my cell phone number or debit card PIN. I had the attention span of my golden retriever and the physical stamina of a 50-year old guy who’d just crossed the finish line in his first marathon. Mr. Schwannoma hurt like the dickens. But I was supposedly okay to return to law practice. This may say something about what doctors really think of lawyers and what they do, but yikes. (Or maybe it just demonstrates that from an oncologist’s perspective a living patient, with no current evidence of disease, is a well patient.) And my wife was the only person I could, or at least would, talk to about my lingering physical and cognitive issues. What a wild time it was.

Thank you, UCCC, for doing this trial.

And, hey, there’s a great old rock song to end this, Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UWRypqz5-o



Get my brain a-runnin'
Tossed out on the highway
Draftin' bond indentures
And whatever comes my way
Yeah! clients, gonna make it happen
Take your case, hope my brain’s in place
Fire all those neurons at once
And implode from the pace

I’m a chemo wonder
Toxics did some plunder
Lookin' mighty thin
And I’m feelin' that cells wander
Yeah! doctors, went and made it happen
Took my brain to a whole new place
Fired all of their drugs at once
Cells explode in their place

After all claims are filed
I am back, back in the wild
And those bills were high
I can’t afford to die

Back in the wild
Back in the wild

Please support the University of Colorado Cancer Center through one of the donation links on the right side of this page. They’re doing good work.

Where Would You Be Now?

But for some fine docs and a whole lot of toxic chemicals, I wouldn’t still be walking around above ground. And I’ve survived to a time when I may actually have some treatment options if that cancer in black comes roaring back. So, I’m just feeling lucky and grateful today and a new version of the Doobie Brothers’ “Long Train Runnin’” seemed like a good fit…



Just around the corner
A little while we hear
We can see them new drugs come
And we all will stand and cheer
Without drugs
Where would we be now
Without drugs

You know I did some chemo
Put me on my back
I lost my tan and my sanity
And they’re never comin' back
Without drugs
Where would I be right now
Without drugs

Well it’s clinical trial time
For this patient stagin’ late
Gotta keep on fusin' lotsa
'Cause you know I’m dodgin' fate
Without drugs
Where would I be now, na-na-now
Without drugs

The Hotel Melanoma
All the guests are livin’ great
Gotta keep on seein’ doctors
And you know they’re runnin’ late
Without docs
Where would we be now
Without docs

Well the IVs keep on drippin'
And the room spins 'round and 'round
And my bed rails are cold and hard
For awhile they won’t go down
Without drugs
Where would I be right now
Without drugs
Where would I be now

The Black Cancer Posse

The guests of the Hotel Melanoma have formed a posse that is out to bring our black cancer to justice. We all seem to want to DO SOMETHING to increase melanoma awareness, encourage sun (and tanning bed) safety, and raise money for treatment research. We support and encourage our fellow melanoma warriors by sharing our stories and experiences, and through the simple act of listening with understanding ears. Many of us have participated in clinical trial research and taken the risks inherent in being lab rats. We blog, we facebook, we participate in discussion boards, we do whatever we can think of to spread the word that this deadly damn disease isn’t “just skin cancer”, all with an enormous amount of zeal and creativity. And we’d all love to see the day when “black is the new pink” and a universally recognized symbol of our cause.  And, yes, black's our color because the name "melanoma" comes from two Greek words, "melas" (black) and "oma" (tumor).

For all of you who are members of The Black Cancer Posse, here's the Hotel Melanoma rendition of  AC/DC’s “Back in Black”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAgnJDJN4VA


Back on black
We’re in a pack
It’s run too long, it’s bad to be black
Black cancer loose
In the news
Drugs keep us hanging about
We've been prayin’ to the Guy
'Cause He's gettin' us by
forget the hearse though we sometimes die
We want nine lives
New trials
Infusin' every one of us with stuff that’s wild

'Cause it’s black
Yes, it’s black
Well, we’re black
Yes, we’re black
Well, we’re black pack
(Well) this black is back
Yes, now black is back

Pack of the black
Needs no Cadillac
Wants a new magic bullet that’s a power pack
Yes, we’re in a gang
Make a bang
We’ve got to cause this melanoma to hang
Cause we’re hot on the track
And we’re beatin' the black
Nobody's gonna get us off this bastard’s back
Don't mess with us now
We’re just makin' our play
Don't try to change our luck, just get out of our way

Well, we’re black, Yes we’re black
Well, we’re black, Yes we’re black
Well, we’re black pack
Well the black is back
Yes now black is back

hooo yeah
Ohh yeah
Yes we are
Oooh yeah, yeah Oh yeah
Now in black
Well we’re black, on track
Black, we’re back
Black, we’re back
Black, we’re back
Black, we’re black
Back
Back on black
Yes we’re back on black
Out of our sight!

Come Someday

My fellow blogger Paul, the author of http://www.onemansjourneywithmelanoma.blogspot.com/, recently wrote a very thoughtful post about his struggle to resume his old life before cancer, after completing treatment and entering the “watch and wait” phase of life with melanoma that just might return someday with a vengeance. He wrote that he feels like the subject of a wildlife documentary who’s been shot from a helicopter with a tranquilizer dart and then wakes up groggy after being released back into the wild, wondering what in the hell just happened.

I wish I had some sage advice to offer, but I surely don’t. I’m approaching my eight-year anniversary of completing biochemotherapy and am enjoying good health. But I’m still working on adjusting to a new reality and accepting that life will never be the same as it was before my diagnosis. Not worse by any means, just different, and in so many ways richer and more rewarding and satisfying-- because this damn disease led me to first reexamine and then reorder my priorities in life. I no longer believe there will ever come a “someday” when life goes back to “normal”, and have slowly but surely come to understand that this is a great blessing. And I think that Paul has figured that out much quicker than did I.

Paul is, I believe, a parrothead, so I’ll end these rambling thoughts with a new version of Jimmy Buffett’s “Come Monday”, remembering my own first year of a new life at the Hotel Melanoma…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DnBwdBhS3c&feature=related


Headin' up to the Pavilion
For some clinic day checkup fun
I've got my best game face on
I guess I never have met more cancer docs so
droll
And cancer I didn't know
That I'd be hatin' you so

Come someday, it'll be all right
Come someday, I'll enjoy normal life
I spend four crazy days in a chemo round haze
And I just want control of my plight

Yes, it's been quite a summer
Two new scars and scanned my brain
And now it’s time for infusions
Something docs failed to explain
And cancer how I hate you so
That's the reason I must let you go

Come someday, it'll be all right
Come someday, I'll enjoy normal life
I spend four crazy days in a chemo round haze
And I just want control of my plight

I can't forget cancer
It’s that much a part of me now
Remember that day in the clinic
When docs said there was no room for doubt

I hope I’m becomin' cancer-free
I’ve heard some statistics that scare
I must get poisoned for four days
The cure I've heard is quite rare
Biochemo has made me quite thin
I just can't wait to grow some new skin

Come someday, it'll be all right
Come someday, I'll enjoy normal life
I spend four crazy days in a chemo round haze
And I just want control of my plight

I spend four crazy days in a chemo round haze
And I just want control of my plight

Just For Men (And The Women Who Put Up With Us)

No, I’m not selling that cheesy remedy for hiding my gray hair, of which I’m quite proud. Instead, I’m going to use this bully bloggin’ pulpit to preach to my “peeps” about melanoma.

According to The Skin Cancer Foundation, men over age 40 have the highest annual exposure to UV radiation and 1 in 41 men will be diagnosed with melanoma in their lifetime. Yikes. My tiny little primary melanoma tumor was discovered by my alert primary care physician in the course of a routine physical examination I had at age 50. That little checkup set me on the diagnosis and treatment path that just might have saved my life.

There are a whole host of good reasons why we middle-aged guys ought to see a primary care doc once a year, and 1-in-41 lifetime odds of getting melanoma is just one of them. Trust me, you really don’t want to do anything like biochemotherapy treatments. (Although my hair grew back thicker and darker after treatment, which really pissed off a couple of my balding buddies.) So, please don’t avoid that annual physical just because you know your doc is going to want to do the dreaded prostate exam.

Sermon ended, now a little rock music, John Mellencamp’s “Small Town”…



Well it was born in a small spot
And it spread from a small spot
Almost died from a small spot
Oh, those small - impunities

All my ‘friends’ had a small spot
My father’s doc found a same small spot
My job was that small spot
Provides many opportunities, hey!

Educated ‘bout a small spot
Taught to fear cancer in a small spot
Used to go scream ‘bout that small spot
Another patient frantic that's me

But I've seen it all from a small spot
Had myself a ball from a small spot
Harried some Denver docs and brought them to this small spot
Now that small spot’s gone from me

No I cannot forget from where it is that it came from
I cannot forget the doctors who saved me
Yeah, I can be myself without that small spot
And doctors let me be just what I want to be

Got something against a big spot
Still hayseed enough to pray
Look out for the big spot
But my dread was in a small spot
Oh, that's bad enough for me

Well it was born in a small spot
And I’ve been freed from a small spot
Almost died from a small spot
Ah, that's prob'ly what will bury me

Please share this post with all the guys you love (or at least like) who don’t (yet) have melanoma.

A Sharp Dressed Man

I played golf today (rather badly I must say) wearing both a long-sleeved SPF 2K golf shirt and a copious layer of sunscreen. Plus a ball cap and dark shades. All despite the fact that it was a rather toasty day by Colorado standards. It’s just the sort of “belt and suspenders” avoidance of risk behavior that one might expect from a recovering attorney and paranoid hypochondriac melanoma survivor. But hey, I’d rather be the palest and least stylish golfer on the course than have another hunk of flesh carved out of my old hide. So, I think I wisely turned myself out on the course today as a rather “Sharp Dressed Man”, and there just happens to be a great old ZZ Top tune by that name…

Get More: Sharp Dressed Man, ZZ Top, ZZ Top Videos

Sun shirt, golf shoes
and I don't know what I am gonna shoot.
Ball cap, bad lies,
I sure know the reason why.
I stopped sunnin' just as fast as I can
'cause all my docs are crazy 'bout a sunscreened man.

Don’t watch, full sunscreen,
I ain't hittin' not a single green.
tough links, hard pin
when I par out I'm gonna do you in.
I stopped my sunnin' just as fast as I can
'cause all my docs are crazy 'bout a sunscreened man.

High score, top that,
And I don't worry when I hit it fat.
Black shades, golf’s hard
puttin' sharp, lookin' for par.
I stopped sunnin' just as fast as I can
'cause all my docs are crazy 'bout a sunscreened man.

Highway to Heck

People tell me I’m a pretty mellow guy who’s slow to anger. But there are days when I get just a bit ticked off at melanoma. And this is one of them. Not so much anymore on my own behalf, because I know that I’ve been quite lucky during my extended stay at the Hotel Melanoma. If melanoma eventually catches up with me, well, I’ve already enjoyed nearly 60 years of a blessed and full life of family, friends, a career, and a whole lot of fun. But this damn disease is whacking way too many younger people who haven’t had the opportunity to live long enough to screw up (and learn from it) as often as has this old gray boomer.

Melanoma is one of the many relatively underfunded cancer brands in terms of federal and private research dollars spent per patient death and per new diagnosis. That popular pink cancer is the hands-down winner in the research funding race. Why? Because the pink machine has done a superb job of “awareness campaigning” and awareness brings dollars to their cause. I have no desire whatsoever to take a nickel of grants or donations away from any other brand of cancer. I just want melanoma to catch up in the money race so maybe, just maybe, we might someday be able to send this devilish disease packing on the Highway to Hell.

By the way, there just happens to be a classic AC/DC song by that name…



Melanoma
We’ll be free
Buy your ticket for a one way ride
Asking something
Leave us be
Treatments everywhere on our side
There’s no reason
For your kind
Ain't nothin' we would rather do
Put you down
In good time
Your ‘friends’ are gonna be there too, eh

You’re on a highway to hell
On the highway to hell
Highway to hell
You’re on the highway to hell

No stop signs
Speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow us down
It’s a war
Gonna win it
Nobody's gonna mess us 'round
Hey doctor
Paid our dues
Stayin' in the livin' band
Black cancer
Look at us
We’re on my way to the Promised Land, wooh

You’re on the highway to hell
Highway to hell
You’re on the highway to hell
Highway to hell

Mmm, can’t stop us
Eh,Eh,Eh

You’re on the highway to hell
On the highway to hell
You’re on the highway to hell
On the highway to
Hell
Highway to hell
You’re on the highway to hell
Highway to hell
Highway to hell
Highway to hell
You’re on the highway to hell
Highway to hell

And you’re goin' down,all the waa-ay-aay, wohh
U-on the highway to hell

Please support your favorite melanoma nonprofit organization. If you don’t have one, then support mine through the donation links on the righthand side of this page.

Uncomfortably Numb

Many of us at the Hotel Melanoma have done some time in a heavily-medicated, cognitively-impaired state. In the course of multiple rounds of biochemotherapy, two major surgeries, and high-dosage radiation treatments, my prescribed meds list has included Ativan, Zofran, Compazine, Thorazine, Dopamine, Demerol, various and sundry narcotic painkillers including a morphine pump, and steroids. And at times nearly all of the above at once. (Someone could probably turn this list of meds into rap lyrics, but it won’t be me.)

The experience has given me a renewed and heightened appreciation for having a reasonably clear head. (Regrettably, that sense of appreciation hadn’t yet arrived during my college years in the early 70’s, but that’s a story I’m not going to tell on the ‘net.) Once again dating myself, I’ve chosen Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” for today’s lyrical remembrances…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJZYG5qwHHI


Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear us.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
We hear you're feeling ill.
Well we can ease your chill
And put it on your clinic bill.
Relax.
We need some information first.
Just the basic facts
Can you tell us where it hurts?

There is still pain but it’s receding
A constant drip, drugs bring my can-fly-zone.
The nausea rolling through in waves.
Their lips move but I don't get what they're saying.
When I was a patient, had high fevers
My face swelled like a big balloon.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can explain you too would understand
This is not how I am.
I have been drugged uncomfortably numb.

I have been drugged uncomfortably dumb.

O. K.
Just a slow IV drip.
There'll be no more AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Now you may feel a bit less sick.
Don’t you stand up!
We do believe its working. Good.
That'll keep you going through the round
Come take new meds we’ve found.

There is still pain but it’s receding.
A constant drip, drugs make my can-fly-zone.
The nausea rolling through in waves.
Their lips move but I don’t get what they're saying.
When I saw my scans
I caught a glaring glimpse
Out of the center of my eyes.
I dared to look but now it’s gone.
They cannot put the cursor on it now.
The tumor’s blown,
My dreams have grown.
I have been drugged uncomfortably numb.

A Dog's Life, I Wish

I’ve often wished that my golden retriever’s veterinarian would take me on as a patient. Her waiting room serves coffee, tea, ice water, and both people and dog treats. If Jordan has so much as a routine innoculation during his visit, the vet and/or one of her assistants invariably calls at least once within the next 24 hours to check on how their patient is feeling. And they always call us to immediately report lab test results; not just when they’re worrisome and the vet might need to see Jordan for a follow-up visit.

I, on the other hand, once learned (sort of) about some worrisome chest x-ray results through a late afternoon voicemail message from my oncologist’s scheduling assistant notifying me that I’d been scheduled for a follow-up CT scan of my chest the following morning. It took two phone calls and several hours for me to find out why, and I still didn’t hear it directly from my doc. And last Friday’s blood work results are apparently coming to me only by snail mail. I’ve chosen to assume that “slow news is good news”, but should I have to make such assumptions?

In fairness to the medical profession, I must say that I’ve had a couple of vet-like patient service experiences-- a concerned surgeon who repeatedly called my wife to find out how I was doing after discharge from the hospital, and a radiation oncologist who called me in person to tell me, with profuse apologies, he’d gotten me mixed up with another patient so I needed to come back and repeat an unpleasant procedure.

Nevertheless, if there is reincarnation after death I’m still hoping I come back as my wife’s golden retriever. Couldn’t we all sometimes use a hug and scratch behind the ear from our health care providers? Just sayin’…

Afternoon update: Last Friday's blood test results (lab work completed on Monday) came to me in today's snail mail. Everything "looks very good". The vet would have phoned us on Monday. I rest my case.

Funscreen

It’s summertime and there’s just no reason not to get outside and do the things you love. (The Hotel Melanoma has recently installed a new infinity pool overlooking the ocean; poolside bar service and lifeguards on duty until 3 a.m.) To celebrate this season of fun and safe sun, here’s a new version of the Beach Boys’ “Fun Fun Fun”…



Well, we got our tumor scars
And we’ve been through the infusion thing, now
Seems we forgot all about the hospital
And we have some new plans, now
And with the tumors all blasted go
Livin' life as best as we can, now

And we'll have fun, fun, fun
And we’ll never put the sunscreen away
(Fun, fun, fun, and we’ll never put the sunscreen away)

Well, the sun can't scare us
'Cause we sun block and have a pale face, now
(You got a pale face now, now, you got a pale face)
We make the sun leathered people look like
some weathered new human race, now
(You got a pale face, now, you got a pale face)
A lot of folks try to tease us
But we’re livin’ in tannin’ free space, now
(You got a pale face, now, you got a pale face)

And we'll have fun, fun, fun
And we’ll never put the sunscreen away
(Fun, fun, fun, and we’ll never put the sunscreen away)

Well, we knew all along
That our hides were gettin' fried too well, now
(You shouldn't-a fried, now, you shouldn't-a fried)
And since docs took your tan away
You been thinkin' that your fun is all through now
(You shouldn't-a fried, now, you shouldn't-a fried)
But you can come along with me
'Cause we got a lot of things to do now
(You shouldn't-a fried, now, you shouldn't-a fried)

And we'll have fun, fun, fun
And we’ll never put the sunscreen away
(Fun, fun, fun, now we’ll never put the sunscreen away)

And we'll have fun, fun, fun
And we’ll never put the sunscreen away
(Fun, fun, fun, now we’ll never put the sunscreen away)

Fun, fun, fun now that doctors took our tanning away
Fun, fun, now that doctors took our tanning away

This one is for the melanoma awareness campaigner and author of www.blackispink.blogspot.com. Check it out.

It's 5 O'Clock Somewhere

Each time I was incarcerated in the hospital for biochemotherapy treatments, the plan was to finish my fourth 24-hour round of infusion midday Friday and to discharge me around 5 p.m. As you might imagine, if I was conscious and coherent I spent Friday afternoon watching the clock and waiting for the medics to come in and tell me I was good to go. There’s just no better song to borrow to express my fervent desire to get the heck out of there than Alan Jackson’s and Jimmy Buffett’s “It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPCjC543llU


My head is hot and that ol' clock is movin' slow
And so am I
This day passes like molasses in wintertime
But it's for life
Gettin' drugged every hour and older by the minute
Those docs have pushed me over the limit
I'd like to call them somethin'
But think I'll just call it a day

Give me somethin' small and strong
Make it an Ativan before I go get tanned
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care
It's five o'clock somewhere

These four bags are gonna take all afternoon
And half the night
Tomorrow morning I know there'll be hell to pay
Hey, but that's my plight
I ain't had a day off here, it feels like a year
My infusion vacation is gonna start right here
If that bag’s for me
You can tell 'em I've just ran away

Give me somethin' small and strong
Make it an Ativan before I go get tanned
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care
It's five o'clock somewhere

I could pay off my tab
Call myself up a cab and be out of here before 2
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder
What would Jimmy Buffett do?

Jimmy: Funny you should ask, Alan
I'd say
Give me somethin' small and strong
Make it an Ativan before I go get tanned
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care

Give me somethin' small and strong
Make it an Ativan before I go get tanned
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care
He don't care
And I don't care
It's five o'clock somewhere

Jimmy: What time zone am I on?
What hospital ward am I in?

Alan: It doesn't matter

It's five o'clock somewhere

Jimmy: It's always on five in Melanomaville, come to think of it

Alan: I heard that

Jimmy: You've been there haven't you?

Alan: Yes, Sir

Jimmy: I've seen your chart there

Alan: I've been to Melanomaville a few times

Jimmy: All right.
That's bad

Alan: Battled my way back

Jimmy: OK Just want to make sure you can beat that mystical
oncological median

Alan: Beyond the peak.
I got it

Jimmy: All right.

It's five o'clock.
Let's go somewhere

Alan: I'm ready.
Crank it up

Jimmy: Let's get out of here

Alan: I'm gone

A New Wing at The Hotel Melanoma

“The reality is that this cancer will probably find a way around most drugs. Although we are always searching for a cure, it may be more realistic to turn cancer into a chronic disease, like diabetes, that you don’t cure but rather you manage.” Karl Lewis, M.D., in The Melanoma Puzzle, July 1, 2010.

There will never be a “good time” to check into this Hotel. But better now than 5 or 10 years ago. For a brief time in 2003, my docs thought I was very likely at Stage IV and it sounded to me like they had no treatment options to offer that would be a source of any realistic hope for survival. Today, they would.

So, with gratitude for how far we’ve come during my 8-year stay at the Hotel and with best wishes to all of my fellow guests, here’s a new version of the Eagles’ “New Kid in Town”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6FsnmaJrQQ



There’s talk on the news, it sounds like a thriller.
Great expectations, everybody’s testing you.
Patients you treat they all seem to love you,
Even your skeptics treat you like you’re something new.

treatment-come-lately, the new drug in town,
everybody wants you, so don’t let them down.

Your name is Yervoy, insurance begin to pay.
Hopeless romantics, now we hope again.
But after a while we’re looking for other ways.
It’s those restless cells that grow again.

treatment-come-lately, the new drug in town,
hope it will cure us after the last round

there’s so many cells we want no older
but night after night those cells may get bolder,
just hold our fears on your shoulder.

There’s talk on the news, it’s there to remind you
That it doesn’t really matter if magic’s gone.
They’re working today on new drugs to succeed you.
We will never forget you till new wonder drugs come along.

where you been lately? there’s a new drug in town.
everybody loves it, don’t they? now we’re taking it
and you’re still around, oh my my.
there’s a new drug in town,
just another new drug in town.

oo-hoo, everybody’s talking ’bout the new drug in town.
oo-hoo, everybody’s doctor likes the new drug in town.
there’s a new drug in town I don’t want to need it
there’s a new drug in town I don’t want to need it
there’s a new drug in town
there’s a new drug in town
there’s a new drug in town everybody’s talking
there’s a new drug in town patients started stalking
there’s a new drug in town
there’s a new drug in town

Hotel Carcinoma?

My primary care doc tells me my prostate gland is slightly enlarged and we’re checking my PSA level as a part of routine blood work. This “condition” is not uncommon for guys my age-- witness who stars in those ubiquitous Flomax commercials that appear on golf tournament telecasts, but not on shows like MTV’s Jersey Shore. And it’s almost certainly nothing for me to worry about. Nevertheless, my mind races with contingency planning. Would I refuse treatment for prostate cancer, figuring that melanoma will probably get me first anyway? Should I rename my blog, to be more inclusive? Could I come up with funny song lines about treatment-related incontinence? Yikes, sometimes I just can’t believe what a paranoid hypochondriac I’ve become. Oh well, listening to “Blue Sky” by The Allman Brothers Band has always had a soothing effect on me, so I’ve written some new lyrics to chill myself out…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEC5s3nzVzo


Drivin’ down to WalMart ... buyin’ Depends
It just keeps on flowin' ... it don't worry 'bout where it's going ... no, no

Don't grow Mister Prostate, I'm done walkin' down that road
Early mornin' blood work tells us all we need to know

Wear my sunscreen ... it will save the day
Lord, you know it makes me keen when I block those UV rays ... block those UV Rays ... yeah

Good ol' Friday mornin', veins are showin' everywhere
Goin' to get my blood drawn ... won't be long ‘til I'll be there

Wear my sunscreen ... it will save the day
Lord, you know it makes me keen when I block those UV rays ... block those UV rays ... yeah, yeah

I feel better already!

What's This Black Cancer?

If you’ve been sufficiently masochistic to read my initial blog post, you know that I’ve at times been an insubordinate hospital patient. And that’s gotten me into big trouble on more than one occasion. Jimmy Buffett is one of the great musical storytellers, so I’ve borrowed “Who’s The Blond Stranger” for today’s homily…



Nothin’ like this I ever expected
Critical Care is a whole other world
My wife’s in my room callin’ help from my nurses
How did oncologists get me here for this cure

They told me my nodes had sprouted like clover
They had me do scans and said drink that dye down
They removed fourteen malignant lymph nodes
Then shipped me to Denver, the scanning went on

What’s this black cancer, that entered my life
Makin’ me play golf, in the dark night
This kind of disease, is all new to me
What’s this black cancer, that fools my M.D.’s

Infusin’ all night, for me that's the first time
Sneak out my bed just as cool as I can
Pull back the sheets and my head is all empty
Unplug my pumps and try to take a stroll on the lam

My head got all light and the room started spinning
I fell down on the floor, breathin’ no air
Out in the hall was my own squad of nurses
Callin’ a Code Blue in Critical Care

What’s this black cancer, that altered my life
Makin’ me garden, in the moonlight
This kind of treatment, is toxic to me
What’s this black cancer, that fools my M.D.’s

Back in my bed and everything’s normal
In comes my nurse and starts threatenin’ me
I could be restrained until the next morning
She’ll have me locked down and my wife sure agrees

What’s this black cancer, that burdened my wife
Makin’ me moon tan, after midnight
Four rounds of chemo, were not good for me
What’s this black cancer, that fools my M.D.’s

What’s this black cancer, that blew up my life
Makin’ my skin pale, what a white fright
This cancer’s whacked me, my insurance flees
What’s this black cancer, that fools my M.D.’s

If your nurse tells you not to try to get out of bed, please listen and obey!

Celebration

Rev. Carol Taylor, melanoma survivor and host of the Melanoma Prayer Center on Facebook, is celebrating a milestone in her journey this Saturday, July 9. She’s chosen Kool And The Gang’s “Celebration” as her theme song for the event, and I just couldn’t stop myself from offering some new lyrics to a great party song…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GwjfUFyY6M


Celebrate clear scans, come on
(Let's celebrate)
Celebrate no tans, come on
(Let's celebrate)

There's a skin check goin' on right here
A new tradition to live throughout the years
So bring your good health
And your laughter too
We gonna celebrate NED with you

Come on now

(Celebration)
Let's all celebrate and shun IV lines
(Celebration)
We gonna celebrate and pray for good times

It's time to give together
It's up to us
Share our treasure
Everyone in cancer world
Come on

(Yahoo) Bring a large donation
(Yahoo)

Celebrate Yervoy, come on
It's a celebration
Celebrate new ploys, come on
Let's celebrate

There's a mole check goin' on right here
A new tradition to last throughout the years
So bring your pale skin
And your laughter too
We gonna mark anniversary with you

Come on now

(Celebration)
Let's all celebrate and shun IV lines
(Celebration)
We gonna celebrate and pray for good times

It's time to give together
It's up to us
Share our treasure
Everyone in cancer world
Come on

(Yahoo) Listen to your mama
(Yahoo)

We're gonna beat melanoma fright
Let's celebrate, it's our fight
We're gonna wear no pink stuff tonight
Let's celebrate, it's our right

We're gonna have a good time tonight
(Ce-le-bra-tion)
Let's celebrate, then we’ll fight
We're gonna have a good time tonight
(Ce-le-bra-tion)
Let's celebrate, we’re all right

(Yahoo)
(Yahoo)

Celebrate good docs, come on
(Let's celebrate)
Celebrate no spots, come on
It's a celebration
Celebrate life lots, come on
(Let's celebrate)

Come on and celebrate, good times, tonight
(Celebrate good times, come on)
'Cause everything's gonna be all right
Let's celebrate
(Celebrate good times, come on)
(Let's celebrate)...

Yahoo, turn on the strobe lights, and dance along with the video of the original:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GwjfUFyY6M

Independence Repentance

Back in the dark (literally) ages of my youth, I was a sun-bronzed lifeguard for several summers, with hair bleached blond by chlorine and sun. I didn’t have a clue that melanoma wasn’t “just skin cancer”. Some thirty years later, I almost paid the ultimate price for my cluelessness and unprotected fun in the sun. You needn’t hide indoors this holiday weekend and, by all means, get outside and hike, swim, boat, golf, ride, cookout, drink up, and boogie; just please don’t get fried! And sing along with the Doobie Brothers’ “Listen To The Music” while dousing yourself with a good sunscreen…

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


Don't you see it growin',
Day by day
People
Gettin' ready for bad news
Some are tanning,
Won’t be glad
Wo, we got to beat the UV rays
Wo, oh yeah
What the people need
Is a way to make 'em pale
It ain't so hard to do if you know how
Gotta get a message
Get it on through
Oh now blogger’s goin' to after awhile
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
All the time

Well you know,
I know better
Everything I say
Meet me in the clinic for a day
We'll have checkups
And we'll scan
Wo, we're gonna blast the moles away
Wo, oh yeah
And if I'm lookin’ pale to you
And you're lookin’ pale to me
There ain't nothin' we can do but pray
Scannin' good,
Feeling fine
Wo, baby, beat the UV rays

Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
All the time

Don’t want tumors on your liver
Alarming PET scans glowing bright
Don’t want lesions growing bigger
Lookin' for the happy scans
And you got to start out right

Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
All the time
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
Wo, oh, oh, lather on the sunscreen
All the time
God, we gotta beat the UV rays!

Happy Independence Day!

Miss You So Gladly

I really, really hated biochemotherapy treatments and those many long days of hospital incarceration. But biochemo seems to have worked to fend off the enemy I hate even more, melanoma. Thanks to Jimmy Buffett’s “Miss You So Badly”, I have a great old song to borrow to bid farewell (I hope) to melanoma…



I guess it all blew up in my lymph nodes
Thank heavens no other place
After weeks of searchin' crazy, there was nothin' left to trace
And when the dust had finally settled
And the scare had quickly cleared
Whoa, things were better off than I had feared

And I, miss you so gladly, hey I hate you badly
Feelin' so glad now since you been gone, gone, gone
I went for infusin', it seems that I'm losin'
Track of the long days since I been home

I’m layin' in a hospital room full of students
I guess each studies for eight years
They exchange resident's stories
I get drugged with IV cheer
But they look like Jack The Ripper
With their hands glued to IVs
And I don't think that I should ever let 'em learn on me

And I, miss you so gladly, hey I hate you badly
I think I've been bad though while stayin' so long, long, long
And I'm, just watchin' those pumps flow , waitin' for furlough
Losin' the long days since I been home

I got a head full of feelin' higher
And a vein full of IV line
There is just no one drug to kill this
Hell, I'll try most every kind
Oh, crazy how things happen, it's incredible but true
The longer you’re gone the stronger I feel we’re through

And I, miss you so gladly, hey I hate you badly
I'm feelin' so glad just to be headin' home, home, home
I've been, rattlin' nurse’s aides, infusin' for four days
Countin' the hours till I get home
Whoa I been, countin' the hours till I get home

In the off chance that any of my nurses in the University of Colorado Hospital’s Critical Care Oncology Unit should read this, I apologize for being such a troublesome patient—especially to the student nurse I “took out” in a fall following an unauthorized attempt to get out of that hospital bed. Sorry 'bout that.