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, May 4, 2012


As I’ve said before, I think melanoma and golf have much in common. For example, neither my experiences as a patient nor my golf swing should be duplicated or imitated. Plus I’ve had a mulligan with melanoma and I sure do appreciate getting them on the golf course. (Although since I banished certain fairway woods and long irons from my golf bag, my mulligan addiction has eased just a bit.) And for a player at my low skill level, the U.S.G.A.’s Official Rules of Golf seem every bit as arbitrary and capricious as my insurance company’s regular practice of denying payment for a preauthorized MRI.

There are a lot of hazards on the course I play, but there’s only one that’s completely within my control to avoid-- the intense UV rays at 7500 feet. I’m not counting on getting another melanoma mulligan and, particularly if you play golf, you shouldn’t either.

I’ll leave you with a great ‘safe golf’ video from American Academy of Dermatology and a little twist on The Beach Boys’ classic, “Little Deuce Coupe”…

Playin’ in woods
I don't know what I shot
Playin’ in woods
You don't know what I shot

Well I'm not braggin' babe and don't put scores down
’Cause I've got the slowest geezer swing in town
With sunscreen all over me I don't ever fry
‘Cause if I had a leather skin tan I know I could die
Yes I’m playin’ in woods
You don't know what I shot
(I’m playin’ in woods)
(You don't know what I shot)

Wear a little golf cap with a long wide bill
And I'll duck a thunderstorm so I don’t get killed
Good-sported and suncreened and most strokes are scored.
I shoot a hundred and forty with my Topflight hoard
Yes I’m hittin’ in woods
You don't know what I shot
(I’m hittin’ in woods)
(You don't know what I shot)

I’ve got a competition clutch when my score matters more
And I putt like a chicken so my three-putts soar
And if that ain’t enough to make you flip your lid
There's one more thing, I got a pale skinned caddy

I’m ‘prayin for the times when ball flight finds green
Then I blow 'em into the water like you never seen
I can’t splash out of sand and those traps I fear
And double bogeys are always near

Yes I’m hittin’ in woods
You don't know what I shot
(I’m hittin in woods)
(You don't know what I shot)
There’s a little goose troop
They don't care what I shot
(A little goose troop)
(They don't care what I shot)
C’s a little noose hoop
You don't know what I got

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