The official Chaplain of The Hotel Melanoma wrote a great blog post, Livestrong Lance Armstrong!, that sums up how so many of us at the Hotel feel about the man and the controversy over whether he used performance enhancing drugs. Personally, I don’t give a rip about the charges brought by the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency and I continue to admire Armstrong for his wonderful work in inspiring and supporting millions of folks living with cancer. He didn’t have to use his brutal personal experiences with the disease, his celebrity, and his time and treasure to launch the Lance Armstrong Foundation. But he did. And wouldn’t you agree this is an honorable and lasting life achievement that’s a whole lot more important than winning some bicycle races?
I don’t have a clue whether Armstrong is a fan of Stevie Ray Vaughan but, given their common roots in Austin, Texas, I’ll take a chance on it. The Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Texas Flood”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3159YIe2OU
Well there's someone down in Texas, all of us cancer-prone types renown
Well there's someone down in Texas, all of us cancer-prone types renown
And we've been tryin' to stall that Black C, Lord and we can't burn this Hotel down
Well black’s crowd is rollin' in, Lance we’re handin’ out our acclaim
Well black’s crowd is rollin' in, Lance we're handin' out our acclaim
Yeah this cancer keeps on tollin’, man it's about to drive poor we insane
Well we're grievin' you Black C, Lord and we're knowin’ black’s prone to stay
Well we're grievin' you Black C, Lord and we're goin' back home to pray
Well back home we know Armstrong’s true hero, baby this one shines every day
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
A Dose Of His Own Medicine
One of my favorite movies is The Doctor, starring William Hurt as a cold and callous surgeon who becomes a cancer patient in his own hospital. He finds it an eye opening experience, and when he returns to his practice following treatment he’s a far more caring and compassionate physician. He even requires his surgical residents-in-training to spend a week as in-patients in their own teaching hospital, eating hospital food and undergoing a battery of tests they will routinely be ordering for their patients.
The vast majority of cancer docs I’ve encountered at The Hotel Melanoma are kind and empathetic folks who seem to have a clue about what their patients are undergoing. Nevertheless, there’s been a time or two when I would have liked to say to a doc “why don’t YOU try that before telling your next patient what it’s like!” Do you ever feel the same?
I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma twist on Eric Clapton’s “Before You Accuse Me”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57v1I4TobfU&feature=fvsr
Before you infuse me, take a dose for yourself
Before you infuse me, have a round for yourself
You say I'll be giving my drug spree another spinnin’
You've been ‘scribing drug spree for someone else
I called my doctuh 'bout three or four times in row
I called my doctuh 'bout three or four times in row
Well that doctuh said "Son"
"Don't call my cell phone no more"
Before you infuse me, take a dose for yourself
Before you infuse me, have a round for yourself
You say I'll be giving my drug spree another spinnin’
You've been ‘scribing drug spree for someone else
Take your own M.D., try my drugs one more time
Take your own M.D., try my drugs one more time
If drips don't go down and cure you
I want excused next time
Before you infuse me, take a dose for yourself
Before you infuse me, have a round for yourself
You say I'll be giving my drug spree another spinnin’
You've been ‘scribing drug spree for someone else
The vast majority of cancer docs I’ve encountered at The Hotel Melanoma are kind and empathetic folks who seem to have a clue about what their patients are undergoing. Nevertheless, there’s been a time or two when I would have liked to say to a doc “why don’t YOU try that before telling your next patient what it’s like!” Do you ever feel the same?
I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma twist on Eric Clapton’s “Before You Accuse Me”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57v1I4TobfU&feature=fvsr
Before you infuse me, take a dose for yourself
Before you infuse me, have a round for yourself
You say I'll be giving my drug spree another spinnin’
You've been ‘scribing drug spree for someone else
I called my doctuh 'bout three or four times in row
I called my doctuh 'bout three or four times in row
Well that doctuh said "Son"
"Don't call my cell phone no more"
Before you infuse me, take a dose for yourself
Before you infuse me, have a round for yourself
You say I'll be giving my drug spree another spinnin’
You've been ‘scribing drug spree for someone else
Take your own M.D., try my drugs one more time
Take your own M.D., try my drugs one more time
If drips don't go down and cure you
I want excused next time
Before you infuse me, take a dose for yourself
Before you infuse me, have a round for yourself
You say I'll be giving my drug spree another spinnin’
You've been ‘scribing drug spree for someone else
Monday, August 27, 2012
Gloria!
“Gloria” is the Latin word for “glory”. When used as an interjection to express pleasure and surprise, “gloria!” pretty much sums up my reaction to the fact that I’m so lucky to still be walking around today healthy and NED, nine years after a Stage IIIc melanoma diagnosis. And I hope and pray that all at The Hotel Melanoma are as fortunate as I’ve been.
Lucky for me, but perhaps not so much for you, there just happens to be an ancient Van Morrison tune by the name of “Gloria”, and a great video of him doing the song live with John Lee Hooker…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xi2EgyZo2Pw
C come around here about midlife
C come around here about midlife
Make me squeal and brood
UV fright about midlife
Come around
Make me feel not right
Stalking down the street
C knock on my door
Stalking down the street
C knock on my door
Causin’ my doom, doom
Make me squeal and brood
Like a mole man do
Well why do you make me feel not right
Did I tell you about my Black C
Well, C comes around
Drive me poor
Shove me dead in the ground
Comes around here
Just about midlife
Yea C makes me squeal and brood
Makes me feel some fright
But today it’s G . L . O . R . I . A
G.L.O.R.I.A, G.L.O.R.I.A
G.L.O.R.I.A, G.L.O.R.I.A
Gonna shout it every night
Gonna shout it every day
Oh, oh, oh midlife, midlife, midlife
C come around here
C makes me feel some fright about midlife
Stalking down on the street
Come knock on my door
Knock, knock on my front door
Then causin’ my gloom
Make me feel some fright
Feel, feel, feel, feel
C’s a bender, C’s no lover
C’s a bender, C's a killer
What's today?
Today is Gloria!
G . L . O . R . I . A
G.L.O.R.I.A
Gonna shout it every night
Gonna shout it every day
G.L.O.R.I.A, G.L.O.R.I.A
I wanna shout it every night
I wanna shout it every day
And every day, and every day
And every day child
And every day child, every day
Makes me feel good
Lucky for me, but perhaps not so much for you, there just happens to be an ancient Van Morrison tune by the name of “Gloria”, and a great video of him doing the song live with John Lee Hooker…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xi2EgyZo2Pw
C come around here about midlife
C come around here about midlife
Make me squeal and brood
UV fright about midlife
Come around
Make me feel not right
Stalking down the street
C knock on my door
Stalking down the street
C knock on my door
Causin’ my doom, doom
Make me squeal and brood
Like a mole man do
Well why do you make me feel not right
Did I tell you about my Black C
Well, C comes around
Drive me poor
Shove me dead in the ground
Comes around here
Just about midlife
Yea C makes me squeal and brood
Makes me feel some fright
But today it’s G . L . O . R . I . A
G.L.O.R.I.A, G.L.O.R.I.A
G.L.O.R.I.A, G.L.O.R.I.A
Gonna shout it every night
Gonna shout it every day
Oh, oh, oh midlife, midlife, midlife
C come around here
C makes me feel some fright about midlife
Stalking down on the street
Come knock on my door
Knock, knock on my front door
Then causin’ my gloom
Make me feel some fright
Feel, feel, feel, feel
C’s a bender, C’s no lover
C’s a bender, C's a killer
What's today?
Today is Gloria!
G . L . O . R . I . A
G.L.O.R.I.A
Gonna shout it every night
Gonna shout it every day
G.L.O.R.I.A, G.L.O.R.I.A
I wanna shout it every night
I wanna shout it every day
And every day, and every day
And every day child
And every day child, every day
Makes me feel good
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Burn! Burn! Burn!
Today’s “duh” news at The Hotel Melanoma: the indoor tanning industry is waging a slick public relations campaign to defend itself against tanning’s critics. According to an article from nbcnews.com, “[t]he industry has also gone on the offensive with tactics that appear cribbed from Big Tobacco’s playbook to undermine scientific research and fund advocacy groups serving the industry’s interests.” Read all about it at http://openchannel.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/08/23/13415540-embattled-tanning-industry-fights-back-taking-its-cues-from-big-tobacco. I’m really, really hoping that one of these days some enterprising personal injury plaintiff’s lawyers will shove this disinformation campaign down the industry’s throat in a court of law.
For all who are buying the carcinogens this industry is peddling, my slightly fractured version of The Byrds “Turn! Turn! Turn!”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4ga_M5Zdn4
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time when C’s born, a time you fry
A time to plant, a time you’ll reap
A time to grill, a time to peel
A time to tan, a time you’ll weep
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time to pale up, a time to break brown
A time to scan, a time to warn
A time to blast away moles, a time to gather moles to test them
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time of gloves, a time of fate
A time of scars, a time to treat
A time you may lose race, a time to refrain from embracing
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time of pain, a time to ‘fuse
A time to mend, a time to glow
A time for meds, a time to hate
A time for pale, I swear it's not too late
For all who are buying the carcinogens this industry is peddling, my slightly fractured version of The Byrds “Turn! Turn! Turn!”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4ga_M5Zdn4
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time when C’s born, a time you fry
A time to plant, a time you’ll reap
A time to grill, a time to peel
A time to tan, a time you’ll weep
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time to pale up, a time to break brown
A time to scan, a time to warn
A time to blast away moles, a time to gather moles to test them
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time of gloves, a time of fate
A time of scars, a time to treat
A time you may lose race, a time to refrain from embracing
For every skin (Burn, Burn, Burn)
There is a session (Burn, Burn, Burn)
And a fry for every person, into leather
A time of pain, a time to ‘fuse
A time to mend, a time to glow
A time for meds, a time to hate
A time for pale, I swear it's not too late
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Blah, Blah, Blah
I don’t know about you, but there have been times when listening to oncologists talk that I’ve felt a whole lot like Ginger. And although I don’t think docs are always the most effective communicators, my Ginger moments are only partly a rap on the medical profession. The fact is that my brain freezes when I begin to hear detailed and not-so-good news from a doc, and from there on he might as well be talking to Ginger. And don’t get me started on my opinions about two doctors conferring about me and discussing my condition like I’m not there. Not unlike some of the facebook posts I see on occasion, it’s just “OMG!, TMI!!!” And my questions don’t occur to me until I’m driving home from the appointment. So I guess the moral to this little rant is that I’ve learned that it’s not wise for me to fly solo on these missions. And thanks to my much smarter and somewhat cooler-headed spouse, I don’t have to.
As you might have expected, I just can’t resist taking a lyrical dig at oncology-speak, to the tune of George Thorogood & The Destroyers’ “You Talk Too Much”…
You talk too much, you talk too much
I can't retrieve the things that you say doctor-speak way
If you keep on talking M.D.
You know you're bound to jive me today
Now you get on the teaching throne with your res’dent
Your conversation M.D. ain't got no end
Yakety-yakety-yakety-yak on my time
You keep on talking M.D. drive me out of my mind
You talk too much
I can't conceive the things that you say clinical way
If you keep on talking M.D.
You know you're bound to drive C away
Well I wait out in the exam room I start to nappin'
You walk into the room with them jaws a-flappin'
You keep that doctor-mouth shooting mourning, gloom and fright
You keep on talking M.D. make my head turn white
You talk too much
I can't but grieve the things that you say negative way
If you keep on talking M.D.
You know you're bound just to drive me to pray
I think you're trying to put me through some kind of test
I'm begging you M.D. won't you give it a rest
You talk about treatments that I don't wanna know
Keep it up M.D. I'm gonna pick up and blow
You talk too much
I can't conceive the things that you say pharmacy way
If you keep on talking M.D.
You know you're bound to rile me for days
Don't get me wrong M.D. I don't mean to complain
But if you keep on balking you're gonna drive me insane
You keep on talking all around the block
I'm begging you M.D. won't you please stop
You talk too much
I can't believe the things that you say roundabout way
If you keep on talking M.D.
You know you're bound to drive me astray
Monday, August 20, 2012
A Melanoma Monday
Just having one of those days when I’d like to kick melanoma to the curb, convert The Hotel Melanoma to a maximum security psychiatric lockup facility for all of the Washington politicos who’d rather lie to the electorate to stay in office forever than actually lead and solve the nation’s problems, and go enjoy a round of incompetent three-putt golf without worrying about UV ray exposure. None of that is going to happen, but at least I can sing a little ditty to the Black Beast, to the tune of The Cars’ “You Might Think”…
You might think I'm crazy
To blog my songs ‘bout you
Maybe you think I'm plucky
To have some ‘sing’ to do
But I think that you're wild
And inside me is sun’s child
You might think I’m foolish
Or maybe I’m just blue
You might think I'm crazy
But all I want is through
You might think it's hysterical
But I’ll know when you're beat
You think you're in my boonies
And everything's so deep
But I think that you're mild
When docs flash that fragile smile
You might think it's ghoulish
What you put me through
You might think I'm lazy
But all I want is through
And it's so hard to take
There's no escape without skin scrape
You kept it going ‘til my sun fell down
You kept it going
You might think it's hilarious
The way I run you down
But somewhere sometime
When you're spurious
I'll steal black’s old crown
And I think that you're wild
And so uniquely guiled
You might think it's foolish
These fancy cures for you
You might think I'm crazy
But all I want is through
You might think I'm crazy
To blog my songs ‘bout you
Maybe you think I'm plucky
To have some ‘sing’ to do
But I think that you're wild
And inside me is sun’s child
You might think I’m foolish
Or maybe I’m just blue
You might think I'm crazy
But all I want is through
You might think it's hysterical
But I’ll know when you're beat
You think you're in my boonies
And everything's so deep
But I think that you're mild
When docs flash that fragile smile
You might think it's ghoulish
What you put me through
You might think I'm lazy
But all I want is through
And it's so hard to take
There's no escape without skin scrape
You kept it going ‘til my sun fell down
You kept it going
You might think it's hilarious
The way I run you down
But somewhere sometime
When you're spurious
I'll steal black’s old crown
And I think that you're wild
And so uniquely guiled
You might think it's foolish
These fancy cures for you
You might think I'm crazy
But all I want is through
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Never Meager With Seger
I’m taking a few days off from blogging, but I’ll leave you with a lyrical story about making a bold treatment choice about this time back in 2003 and a little weekend road trip that followed. The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away”….
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfbBw-YMBeQ
Took a look down the mela road,
Right away I made my choice
Headed out to my doctor healer,
I was wired to have my voice
Took a bead on that Anschutz place
And just rolled that turbo on
One hour out of Monument City
Stopped in my car to voice my views
Met the doc and we talked about things
And I told him what I'd decided to do
He looked out the window a long, long moment
Then he looked into my eyes
He didn't have to say a thing,
I knew what he was thinkin'
Blow, blow C away,
Won't you blow C away so right
I rue the cost, I feel double-crossed
And I'm sick of what's wrong and sun’s fright
I barely even heard a word,
I just walked out and went on some hikes
And I rolled
And I rolled clean out of sight
I rolled above the high plains
Deep into the mountains
Felt so good to me
Finally feelin' free
Somewhere along a high road
My cares began to grow old
I knew I’d caused my own
I dreaded what I’d sown
Stood alone on a mountain top,
Starin' out at the Great Divide
I could do least, I could do best,
It was all up to me to decide
Just then I saw my young pup smilin'
And my soul began to rise
And pretty soon
My heart was singin'
Roll, roll C away,
I'm gonna roll C away so right
Gotta keep rollin, gotta keep fightin',
Keep searchin' till I find what's right
And as the sunset faded
I spoke to the faintest first starlight
And I said next time
Next time
I’ll get it right
Roll C away
Roll C away
Roll C away
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfbBw-YMBeQ
Took a look down the mela road,
Right away I made my choice
Headed out to my doctor healer,
I was wired to have my voice
Took a bead on that Anschutz place
And just rolled that turbo on
One hour out of Monument City
Stopped in my car to voice my views
Met the doc and we talked about things
And I told him what I'd decided to do
He looked out the window a long, long moment
Then he looked into my eyes
He didn't have to say a thing,
I knew what he was thinkin'
Blow, blow C away,
Won't you blow C away so right
I rue the cost, I feel double-crossed
And I'm sick of what's wrong and sun’s fright
I barely even heard a word,
I just walked out and went on some hikes
And I rolled
And I rolled clean out of sight
I rolled above the high plains
Deep into the mountains
Felt so good to me
Finally feelin' free
Somewhere along a high road
My cares began to grow old
I knew I’d caused my own
I dreaded what I’d sown
Stood alone on a mountain top,
Starin' out at the Great Divide
I could do least, I could do best,
It was all up to me to decide
Just then I saw my young pup smilin'
And my soul began to rise
And pretty soon
My heart was singin'
Roll, roll C away,
I'm gonna roll C away so right
Gotta keep rollin, gotta keep fightin',
Keep searchin' till I find what's right
And as the sunset faded
I spoke to the faintest first starlight
And I said next time
Next time
I’ll get it right
Roll C away
Roll C away
Roll C away
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Roll With It
I don’t know about you, but every so often I get the foolish notion that I’m in control of my life. And there’s just nothing like a cancer diagnosis and the uncertain and meandering path that follows from it, or the game of golf, to remind me that I’m so very not. One little mutation occurs in the DNA of one of your melanin cells or a sudden and unexpected gust of wind strikes your ball as it flies towards the green and, boom, things don’t turn out quite like you’d planned. And then all you can do is eat your slice of humble pie, and move on as best you can to the next step of your cancer journey. Or hope you can find that new golf ball.
The Hotel Melanoma version of Steve Winwood’s “Roll With It”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6x_bbuSc_4
When life is too much, roll with it, baby
Don't stop and lose your touch, oh no, baby
Hard times knocking on your door, I'll tell them you ain't there no more
Get on through it, roll with it, baby
Luck'll come and then slip away, you've gotta move, bring it back to stay
You just roll with it, baby, come on and just roll with it, baby
You and C, roll with it, baby, hang on and just roll with it, baby
The way that you golf’s not good for money
I swear by stars above, swing so funny
People think you're holin’ out, you show them what game’s all about
You can’t make it, roll with it, baby
When a par turns its back on you, hang in and do that great swing you knew
You just roll with it, baby, you just roll with it, baby
Come on and just roll with it, baby, you and C, just roll with it, baby
Now there'll be a day you'll get there, baby, you'll hear the doctor say, clean scans, baby
You'll leave bad times way behind, nothing but good times on your mind
You can do it, roll with it, baby
Then you'll see life will be so nice, you just go step up to cancer trials
You just roll with it, baby, you just roll with it, baby
You and C, just roll with it, baby, Come on and just roll with it, baby
Monday, August 13, 2012
Kudos
My friend and mole mate Donna recently completed a Hotel Melanoma marathon event, twelve months of treatments with interferon (also known under the brand name Intron). I don’t have the authority to award Olympics medals, so she’ll have to settle for my congratulations and warped rendition of the Grateful Dead’s version of “Good Lovin’”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB1erm6yMw4
Well, mole was lookin’ oh so bad, so I asked my cancer doctor 'bout what I had,
I said now, "Doctor, Doctor, Mister M.D., can you tell me, what's mela C?"
He said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
All you need, all you really need: bad druggin'
Because you got to have Intron (bad druggin')
Everybody got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
A little rad Intron now lady, bad druggin’.
So come on oncy, whoa treat me right
Don't you want this lady to be alright?
I said now oncy, now it's for sure,
I've got skin C fear, you got the cure.
He said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
All you need, all you really need: bad druggin’
Because you got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Everybody got to have Intron (bad druggin')
A little rad Intron now lady, bad druggin'.
Hey, got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Well, you got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Come on now and give me bad druggin’ (bad druggin’).
Well, mole was lookin' oh sort of bad now,
So I asked my cancer doctor 'bout what I had,
I said, "Doctor, Doctor, mister M.D.,
Can you tell me, what's mela C?"
He said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
All you need, all you really need: bad druggin'
Hey, now you got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Everybody got to have Intron (bad druggin')
Give me, give me, give me some Intron (bad druggin’).
Come on now, everybody ‘screen right, (got to stop sunnin’)
You may be weak or you may be blind (got to stop sunnin’)
But even a blind man knows when the sun is shining (got to stop sunnin')
So spread it on now (got to stop sunnin')
Turn off, turn off sun light (got to stop sunnin').
Gimme, gimme, gimme some sunscreen (good sunscreen)
Hey, now you got to have sunscreen (good sunscreen)
You need it, I need it, well you got to have sunscreen (good sunscreen)
Say it again now, good sunscreen.
Well turn off sun light, you won't regret it (good sunscreen)
You got to go for the good and get it (good sunscreen)
Everybody, they got to have sunscreen (good sunscreen)
Hey, now you got to stop sunnin'.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB1erm6yMw4
Well, mole was lookin’ oh so bad, so I asked my cancer doctor 'bout what I had,
I said now, "Doctor, Doctor, Mister M.D., can you tell me, what's mela C?"
He said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
All you need, all you really need: bad druggin'
Because you got to have Intron (bad druggin')
Everybody got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
A little rad Intron now lady, bad druggin’.
So come on oncy, whoa treat me right
Don't you want this lady to be alright?
I said now oncy, now it's for sure,
I've got skin C fear, you got the cure.
He said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
All you need, all you really need: bad druggin’
Because you got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Everybody got to have Intron (bad druggin')
A little rad Intron now lady, bad druggin'.
Hey, got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Well, you got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Come on now and give me bad druggin’ (bad druggin’).
Well, mole was lookin' oh sort of bad now,
So I asked my cancer doctor 'bout what I had,
I said, "Doctor, Doctor, mister M.D.,
Can you tell me, what's mela C?"
He said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
All you need, all you really need: bad druggin'
Hey, now you got to have Intron (bad druggin’)
Everybody got to have Intron (bad druggin')
Give me, give me, give me some Intron (bad druggin’).
Come on now, everybody ‘screen right, (got to stop sunnin’)
You may be weak or you may be blind (got to stop sunnin’)
But even a blind man knows when the sun is shining (got to stop sunnin')
So spread it on now (got to stop sunnin')
Turn off, turn off sun light (got to stop sunnin').
Gimme, gimme, gimme some sunscreen (good sunscreen)
Hey, now you got to have sunscreen (good sunscreen)
You need it, I need it, well you got to have sunscreen (good sunscreen)
Say it again now, good sunscreen.
Well turn off sun light, you won't regret it (good sunscreen)
You got to go for the good and get it (good sunscreen)
Everybody, they got to have sunscreen (good sunscreen)
Hey, now you got to stop sunnin'.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
The Cancer Olympics
The Summer Olympics Games include a very odd mix of somewhat obscure sports. Take, for example, BMX cycling. I didn’t know grown men even did that. And equestrian dressage? Its inclusion can only be explained as a last-ditch effort to give upper class wealthy prep school twits an opportunity to compete in something without having to have any actual athletic talents. So, I see no reason that the games of the next Olympiad, summer or winter, couldn’t include some new events tailored to the peculiar talents of we Olympians of The Hotel Carcinoma.
A few suggestions…
● The 8-Hour Cancer Center Day Individual Medley. Contestants complete a blood draw, brain MRI, chemotherapy round, and checkup/consultation with an oncologist. The athletes are judged on their ability to find wherever the hell they’re supposed to go next, arrive promptly at the appointed check-in time and then wait catatonically until “they” are ready, complete redundant and unnecessary paperwork, coach phlebotomists on how and where to find a vein, remain motionless within the MRI tube for 60 minutes, appear upbeat and cheery while receiving infusions of toxic chemicals, and interpret the medical jargon and body language of their oncologist.
● Synchronized Chemotherapy Infusion Recliner Chair Exercise. Inspired by the sports of synchronized swimming and diving, this team event consists of contestants performing a two-minute synchronized routine of gymnastic movements without falling out of their recliner or pulling out their IV infusion lines.
● The Health Insurance Claims Department Hurdle Marathon. This is an individual event of indeterminate duration, in which contestants must repeatedly navigate automated phone systems, correctly input random strings of letters and numbers, figure out how to actually reach a live human being to discuss their claim and its payment status, repeatedly resubmit lost claims paperwork, clear all hurdles arbitrarily and capriciously erected by claims representatives, and refuse to take no for an answer until a claim is paid in full.
Other event suggestions? Anyone?
I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Queen’s “We Are The Champions”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04854XqcfCY
I've paid for hues
Time after time
I've done fry penance
But committed no crime
And rad skin flays
I've had a few
And I've had my share of scans
Missin’ my brain
But I've come through
And I need to blog on and on and on and on
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fightin' ‘til the end
We are the champions
We aren’t the tan ones
No kind of losers
'Cause we are the champions for a cure
I've taken fry vows
And my nursin’ calls
U brought me pain and more tunes
And everything that goes with it
I tanked U’s thrall
But we’ve seen home bed Mercola’s, Joe’s treasure cruise
And we consider it a challenge, we’re for the pale human race
And we’ll never lose
And I need to blog on and on and on and on
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fightin' ‘til the end
We are the champions
We aren’t the tan ones
No kind of losers
'Cause we are the champions for a cure
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fightin' ‘til the end
We are the champions
We aren’t the tan ones
No kind of losers
'Cause we are the champions!
A few suggestions…
● The 8-Hour Cancer Center Day Individual Medley. Contestants complete a blood draw, brain MRI, chemotherapy round, and checkup/consultation with an oncologist. The athletes are judged on their ability to find wherever the hell they’re supposed to go next, arrive promptly at the appointed check-in time and then wait catatonically until “they” are ready, complete redundant and unnecessary paperwork, coach phlebotomists on how and where to find a vein, remain motionless within the MRI tube for 60 minutes, appear upbeat and cheery while receiving infusions of toxic chemicals, and interpret the medical jargon and body language of their oncologist.
● Synchronized Chemotherapy Infusion Recliner Chair Exercise. Inspired by the sports of synchronized swimming and diving, this team event consists of contestants performing a two-minute synchronized routine of gymnastic movements without falling out of their recliner or pulling out their IV infusion lines.
● The Health Insurance Claims Department Hurdle Marathon. This is an individual event of indeterminate duration, in which contestants must repeatedly navigate automated phone systems, correctly input random strings of letters and numbers, figure out how to actually reach a live human being to discuss their claim and its payment status, repeatedly resubmit lost claims paperwork, clear all hurdles arbitrarily and capriciously erected by claims representatives, and refuse to take no for an answer until a claim is paid in full.
Other event suggestions? Anyone?
I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Queen’s “We Are The Champions”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04854XqcfCY
I've paid for hues
Time after time
I've done fry penance
But committed no crime
And rad skin flays
I've had a few
And I've had my share of scans
Missin’ my brain
But I've come through
And I need to blog on and on and on and on
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fightin' ‘til the end
We are the champions
We aren’t the tan ones
No kind of losers
'Cause we are the champions for a cure
I've taken fry vows
And my nursin’ calls
U brought me pain and more tunes
And everything that goes with it
I tanked U’s thrall
But we’ve seen home bed Mercola’s, Joe’s treasure cruise
And we consider it a challenge, we’re for the pale human race
And we’ll never lose
And I need to blog on and on and on and on
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fightin' ‘til the end
We are the champions
We aren’t the tan ones
No kind of losers
'Cause we are the champions for a cure
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fightin' ‘til the end
We are the champions
We aren’t the tan ones
No kind of losers
'Cause we are the champions!
Thursday, August 9, 2012
A Self-Inflicted Wound
You know, it’s not easy for a recovering attorney to be honest with himself. But on those semi-rare occasions when I am, I realize that nearly all of my problems and failures in life (and most certainly on the golf course) have been self-inflicted wounds.
Take melanoma for instance. I was a naturally pale kid of Celtic descent, covered with moles and freckles and more likely to burn than bronze. But that didn’t stop me from working several summers as a lifeguard and trying to look like some brown surfer dude. My ‘sunscreen’ was baby oil. Those reckless days in the sun took about thirty years to catch up with me, but catch up they most certainly did.
Thanks to biochemotherapy, I just may have dodged this bullet. But I just have to wonder what I’m doing today that may come back to haunt me in the future. And whether I’d change that behavior if I knew big trouble lay before me somewhere down the road. Oy.
So, next time I start to climb on my high horse and lampoon some foolish soul like Tan Mom, maybe I should pause and first look inward?
I’ll sign off with a little ditty about me, The Hotel Melanoma version of Jackson Browne’s “You Love The Thunder”…
When you look over your shoulder
And you see the life that you've left behind
When you think it over do you ever wonder?
What it is that holds your life so close to trial?
You love to blunder and you love the flame
What you see revealed within the danger ain’t worth the pain
And before the fright’ning fades and you see end near
You've got a second to look at the dark side of the tan
You love to blunder and you love the flame
You know your sun fear like you know your name
And I know you wonder how you ever came
To be a young man in love with a tan in search of C’s pain
Draw the blade and flight it higher
For it’s slice that scolds you when golf’s your game
And just like your driver, knows you’re no Tiger
And the crazy swing thing that time will never tame
You love to blunder and you love the flame
You know the rough here like you know your name
You shot high number and it's still the same
And you can dream
But you can never go back and save the game
Take melanoma for instance. I was a naturally pale kid of Celtic descent, covered with moles and freckles and more likely to burn than bronze. But that didn’t stop me from working several summers as a lifeguard and trying to look like some brown surfer dude. My ‘sunscreen’ was baby oil. Those reckless days in the sun took about thirty years to catch up with me, but catch up they most certainly did.
Thanks to biochemotherapy, I just may have dodged this bullet. But I just have to wonder what I’m doing today that may come back to haunt me in the future. And whether I’d change that behavior if I knew big trouble lay before me somewhere down the road. Oy.
So, next time I start to climb on my high horse and lampoon some foolish soul like Tan Mom, maybe I should pause and first look inward?
I’ll sign off with a little ditty about me, The Hotel Melanoma version of Jackson Browne’s “You Love The Thunder”…
When you look over your shoulder
And you see the life that you've left behind
When you think it over do you ever wonder?
What it is that holds your life so close to trial?
You love to blunder and you love the flame
What you see revealed within the danger ain’t worth the pain
And before the fright’ning fades and you see end near
You've got a second to look at the dark side of the tan
You love to blunder and you love the flame
You know your sun fear like you know your name
And I know you wonder how you ever came
To be a young man in love with a tan in search of C’s pain
Draw the blade and flight it higher
For it’s slice that scolds you when golf’s your game
And just like your driver, knows you’re no Tiger
And the crazy swing thing that time will never tame
You love to blunder and you love the flame
You know the rough here like you know your name
You shot high number and it's still the same
And you can dream
But you can never go back and save the game
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Volunteers
I probably shouldn’t admit this here, but WTH, I’m retired and never running for public office. While something of a slacker compared to many folks of my generation, I did sample a few “controlled substances” back in the late 60’s and early 70’s when that sort of experimentation was common among nearly everyone in my peer group, other than some Young Republican dork angling for an internship in the Nixon White House. But none of those substances, when it comes to the degree of mental impairment they induced, could hold a candle to some of the entirely legal drugs that’ve been prescribed for me by licensed medical professionals during the course of my stay at The Hotel Melanoma. Particularly during the course of biochemotherapy treatment. Stoned I was, and I now have a renewed appreciation for the joys of clear headedness.
For all of you who’ve taken a prescribed trip down pharmaceutical lane, particularly you clinical trial volunteers, The Hotel Melanoma version of Jefferson Airplane’s “Volunteers”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SboRijhWFDU
Look what's drippining down in IVs
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Hey I'm dancing ‘round on sheets
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Ain't it amazing how the doctors they treat
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
This boomer patient got stoned
This boomer patient got flown
This boomer patient got no neural action of own
Pick up the cry
Hey now it's time for you and C
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Come on now we're marching to IVs
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers for new pharmaca
Volunteers for new pharmaca!
For all of you who’ve taken a prescribed trip down pharmaceutical lane, particularly you clinical trial volunteers, The Hotel Melanoma version of Jefferson Airplane’s “Volunteers”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SboRijhWFDU
Look what's drippining down in IVs
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Hey I'm dancing ‘round on sheets
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Ain't it amazing how the doctors they treat
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
This boomer patient got stoned
This boomer patient got flown
This boomer patient got no neural action of own
Pick up the cry
Hey now it's time for you and C
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Come on now we're marching to IVs
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers for new pharmaca
Volunteers for new pharmaca!
Monday, August 6, 2012
Curiosity
Last night, NASA successfully landed its unmanned rover “Curiosity” on Mars. Bravo. This single bold mission of exploration will cost $2.5 billion. That considerable sum of money is just a rounding error in the $3.8 trillion federal ‘budget’ in fiscal year 2012, but here’s a striking comparison: the National Cancer Institute’s cancer research budget has averaged $4.9 billion per year in fiscal years 2005-2010. And just over $100 million was spent on melanoma research in fiscal year 2010.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a supporter of funding a space exploration program and am disappointed that U.S. astronauts currently have to buy a ticket to space from the Russians, who also operate Aeroflot-- the world’s most dangerous airline. But shouldn’t Uncle Sam be more than twice as curious about kicking cancer to the curb as he is about whether Mars once supported any form of life?
The Hotel Melanoma rendition of The Four Tops’ “Baby I Need Your Loving’”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUOntQocGWk
Black C, you need more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Although you're ever near
Our voice I rarely hear
Another day, another night
I long to halt U fright
'Cause it kills coldly
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Some say it's a sign of weakness
For a man to beg
Then weak I'd rather be
If it means kickin’ you to street
'Cause lately it’s been losin' streak
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Angry cries echo your name
Whoa, sometimes I wonder
Will we ever ease your pain?
Oh yeah
When you see me smile, you know
Songs have gotten worse
Any songs you might see
Have all been re-versed
Star thing, I can go on without you
This SPF will let me live without you
This chemo mess inside me, star thing
Made me steal half a life
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a supporter of funding a space exploration program and am disappointed that U.S. astronauts currently have to buy a ticket to space from the Russians, who also operate Aeroflot-- the world’s most dangerous airline. But shouldn’t Uncle Sam be more than twice as curious about kicking cancer to the curb as he is about whether Mars once supported any form of life?
The Hotel Melanoma rendition of The Four Tops’ “Baby I Need Your Loving’”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUOntQocGWk
Black C, you need more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Although you're ever near
Our voice I rarely hear
Another day, another night
I long to halt U fright
'Cause it kills coldly
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Some say it's a sign of weakness
For a man to beg
Then weak I'd rather be
If it means kickin’ you to street
'Cause lately it’s been losin' streak
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Angry cries echo your name
Whoa, sometimes I wonder
Will we ever ease your pain?
Oh yeah
When you see me smile, you know
Songs have gotten worse
Any songs you might see
Have all been re-versed
Star thing, I can go on without you
This SPF will let me live without you
This chemo mess inside me, star thing
Made me steal half a life
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Friday, August 3, 2012
The Ploys of Summer
I played a round of stinkingly bad golf today with my Geezer Golf League. The day included some quality links time in the woods, the water, out-of-bounds, and on the “beach”. I landed drives on one street and several cart paths, but luckily not on anyone’s house because tall ponderosa pine trees were in the way. Short putts leaked right and left. And I sailed a lovely, high shot with a pitching wedge over the elevated 18th green, resulting in a triple bogey 7. Oy.
About the only thing I did “right” out there today was to wear sun protective clothing and almost enough sunscreen. But it ‘hacks’ me off that I have to take these measures on the course and can’t indulge in the summer bronzing days of my pre-melanoma youth without getting slapped up the side of the head by my favorite oncologist. If I can’t play competently, why do I also have to be as pale at the end of the season as a serial killer locked up on death row? Yes, I miss my tanner days, and I suspect I’m not alone in that sentiment here at The Hotel Melanoma.
Hoping for a better round next time, I’ll end this whine festival with my version of Don Henley’s “Boys Of Summer”…
Don Henley - Boys Of Summer by jpdc11
No UV on my moles
No UV on the “beach”
I ‘screen it in my hair
This green is out of reach
Balls in lake, balls in street,
No hole goes down in one
I'm drivin' by your house
So I hope you're not home
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got my hair grown back and my
Sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
I never will forget sun times
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how U made C crazy?
Remember how it made me ‘screen?
Now I don't understand
What's happened to my sun,
But rays I'm gonna get you back
I'm gonna show you that my pale's gone
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I see me scorin' real low and
Smilin' at everyone
I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
Out on this hole today
I shot a dead straight driver on a golf cart path
A little voice inside my head said,
"Don't look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what par was,
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got that shot knocked down and that
Par 3 in one baby
And I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got that hair thick back and those
Fairway shots on, baby
I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
About the only thing I did “right” out there today was to wear sun protective clothing and almost enough sunscreen. But it ‘hacks’ me off that I have to take these measures on the course and can’t indulge in the summer bronzing days of my pre-melanoma youth without getting slapped up the side of the head by my favorite oncologist. If I can’t play competently, why do I also have to be as pale at the end of the season as a serial killer locked up on death row? Yes, I miss my tanner days, and I suspect I’m not alone in that sentiment here at The Hotel Melanoma.
Hoping for a better round next time, I’ll end this whine festival with my version of Don Henley’s “Boys Of Summer”…
Don Henley - Boys Of Summer by jpdc11
No UV on my moles
No UV on the “beach”
I ‘screen it in my hair
This green is out of reach
Balls in lake, balls in street,
No hole goes down in one
I'm drivin' by your house
So I hope you're not home
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got my hair grown back and my
Sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
I never will forget sun times
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how U made C crazy?
Remember how it made me ‘screen?
Now I don't understand
What's happened to my sun,
But rays I'm gonna get you back
I'm gonna show you that my pale's gone
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I see me scorin' real low and
Smilin' at everyone
I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
Out on this hole today
I shot a dead straight driver on a golf cart path
A little voice inside my head said,
"Don't look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what par was,
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got that shot knocked down and that
Par 3 in one baby
And I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got that hair thick back and those
Fairway shots on, baby
I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Ain't Wastin' Time No More
Nearly everyone living somewhere in the Hotel Carcinoma chain receives the blessing of a renewed understanding that “time is of the essence”-- that life is fragile and fleeting, and therefore deserves to be enjoyed, employed and treasured in the here and now. And that perhaps one’s priorities in life need to be reshuffled and reordered to center upon what’s really important. But in my ninth year of residency at The Hotel Melanoma, I sometimes wonder whether I’ve lost my grip on these unexpected gifts that came with a Stage IIIc diagnosis in 2003. (Like, why would an athletically challenged old cuss like me spend so much time in a fruitless and Quixotic quest to lower his golf handicap?) Not that I’m hoping for a whack up the side of the head like a hard fall off the NED wagon, but I do mourn something lost and am trying to figure out how to get it back. Any suggestions?
For all of you who still get it because you’ve still got it, my take on The Allman Brothers Band’s “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ciq_JwomTZA
Last Sunday mornin’ … the putts fine fell like rain
Week before … they all … failed to drain
With the help of God and you friends … I come to realize
I still have true song words … and better things to try
And oh I … ain't-a wastin’ time no more
'Cause time goes by like … surg’ry drains … and last year’s flings
Lord, lord Miss Sunrays … why … all your fryin’?
Seen the brown fear, C long stays-uh … you lookin' like you're dyin'
Just check yourself our hide and look up at the scars we’ve scored
Mole C’s brown frown baby … find some sunscreen to hoard
Meanwhile I … ain't-a wastin' time no more
'Cause time goes by like … mole thing pain … and life’s plaster things
You don't need no biopsy to tell you why
You can't let one precious day slip by
But look inside yourself … and if you don't see what you want
Maybe it’s time then to own it
But see your time’s well owned, don’t just get by … oh, yessuh
Well by and by way after … many years have gone
And all our mole freaks die off … leavin' us alone
We'll praise God’s children in the grateful way we can
It's up to you and me brother
To try and try again
Well, hear us now … we ain't wastin' time no more
'Cause time goes by like … hurried fame
Sunnin' after sun prey wains
Don't forget the mole thing pain
For all of you who still get it because you’ve still got it, my take on The Allman Brothers Band’s “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ciq_JwomTZA
Last Sunday mornin’ … the putts fine fell like rain
Week before … they all … failed to drain
With the help of God and you friends … I come to realize
I still have true song words … and better things to try
And oh I … ain't-a wastin’ time no more
'Cause time goes by like … surg’ry drains … and last year’s flings
Lord, lord Miss Sunrays … why … all your fryin’?
Seen the brown fear, C long stays-uh … you lookin' like you're dyin'
Just check yourself our hide and look up at the scars we’ve scored
Mole C’s brown frown baby … find some sunscreen to hoard
Meanwhile I … ain't-a wastin' time no more
'Cause time goes by like … mole thing pain … and life’s plaster things
You don't need no biopsy to tell you why
You can't let one precious day slip by
But look inside yourself … and if you don't see what you want
Maybe it’s time then to own it
But see your time’s well owned, don’t just get by … oh, yessuh
Well by and by way after … many years have gone
And all our mole freaks die off … leavin' us alone
We'll praise God’s children in the grateful way we can
It's up to you and me brother
To try and try again
Well, hear us now … we ain't wastin' time no more
'Cause time goes by like … hurried fame
Sunnin' after sun prey wains
Don't forget the mole thing pain
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