The "Hotel Melanoma" moniker is a metaphor for living with my particular brand of cancer. Except for those lucky few of us deemed "cured", all we cancer survivors are guests of one of the many, many branded hotels in the "Hotel Carcinoma" chain. We can check out any time we like, but we can never leave. Meanwhile, let's be livin' it up; and please support cancer education, prevention, and treatment research.

Tutu Brothers

Friday, September 9, 2011

A Learning Experience

Once upon a time during my first week of biochemotherapy, my doc showed up to check me out in the company of a gaggle of students tagging along for hospital “teaching rounds”. After determining that I was still alive and semi-sentient, my doc launched into his teaching presentation to his flock and described the course of treatment I was undergoing, including the various drugs and dosages that comprised biochemotherapy. In the middle of his discourse, one of the students blurted out a question: “But Doctor, wouldn’t this kill the patient?” As you might imagine, this aroused me into a higher state of consciousness and my wife about fell out of her bedside chair. Being something of a comedian, my doc’s response was: “Well, we certainly hope not”, and he got a good laugh from his student audience. Fortunately for me, and my wife, he went on to explain what was being done to counteract the potentially fatal side effects of the treatment. Yikes, but don’t you love the way docs sometimes talk about us like we’re not there?

Which reminds me of a vintage song with some great Eric Clapton guitar licks, Cream’s “Strange Brew”…

Strange brew -- killin' what's inside of you.

Here’s a nurse all gowned up in her hazmat blues,
In her own gloved hands she's got meds for you.
For you.
Now what you gonna do?
Strange brew -- killin' what's inside of you.

It’s some kind of demon bearing no good news.
If you don't watch out it'll spread in you.
In you.
Does this sound good to you?
Strange brew -- killin' what's inside of you.

In a bed surrounded by these kid M.D.’s,
I would pay big green for them all to leave
this floor.
And keep their smart mouths closed.
Strange brew -- killin' what's inside of you.

Strange brew, strange brew, strange brew, strange brew.
Strange brew -- killin' what's inside of you.

No comments:

Post a Comment