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

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Chances Are

About a year ago my favorite oncologist told me “chances are” my melanoma is gone for good. I didn’t ask him to elaborate and put a number on the odds, because I’d probably prefer my imaginary number-- a 99.99% probability-- to his. And of course he added the caveat that there are no guarantees that it won’t come back so we need to continue to be vigilant with follow-up exams every six months. All in all, I walked out of the exam room feeling quite pleased with myself, although I deserve no credit for the optimistic prognosis. Still, it underscores the utter randomness and never-ending uncertainty of this damn disease when, eight-plus years out of treatment with no evidence of disease, my doc still can’t say that I’m “cured”. That’s just one more thing that nobody “gets” until they check into the Hotel Melanoma.

A new twist on The Rolling Stones’ “Tumblin’ Dice”…

Tumors think I'm tasty, yes they're always tryin' to waste me
And make me burn the candle right down
But Black C, Black C, I won't be no jewel in your crown

'Cause all you onc docs is low down gamblers
Treatin' like you don't know how
But Black C, I go crazy, there's fever in this bunk house now
My low down bitchin' ‘bout that big load of stitchin'
You know you know C’s deuce is still wild

Black C, docs can't say, I got that mole C
And call C my tumblin' dice

Docs are in a hurry, I never stop my worry
Do see the time flashin' by
Black C got my money
I'm not fixin’ for Heaven ‘til time
Say now, Black C, I'm the rank insider
You will be my partner for life

But Black C, caught you late
I got that mole C and call C my tumblin'
Mole C and call C my tumblin' dice

Oh, my, my, my, C’s my own craps shooter
Playin' my field ev'ry night

Black C, caught you late
I got that mole C and call C my tumblin' dice, (Call C my tumblin')
Got that mole C, got that mole C, got that mole C (Oh yeah)
Got that mole C, got that mole C, got that mole C ( Keep on rolling, keep on rolling)

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