Introduction

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

Monday, June 30, 2014

Mallets for Melanoma 2014



On Saturday, July 26, Colorado Melanoma Foundation will hold its 2nd Annual Mallets for Melanoma event. Held at the Denver Polo Club’s facility near Sedalia, Colorado, the event offers a fun-filled and family-friendly day of watching the final polo matches of the Club’s President’s Cup Tournament while tailgating on the sidelines with family and friends; live music from The Platte River Pickers; and meeting other melanoma survivors and members of the Colorado medical community who are engaged in melanoma diagnosis, treatment and research. Further event details and online registration are available here.

Some readers may be aware that I’ve been known to participate in certain melanoma fundraising events clad in a black tutu. Please rest assured that it would take a large caliber handgun to get me on the back of a horse, with or without my black tutu, and you will not be subjected to the visual assault of watching me attempt to play polo in a tutu. The real players you’ll see are quite good at this exciting, powerful and fast-paced game!

Until next time, I’ll sign off with the Hotel Melanoma rendition of Gene Autry’s “Back in the Saddle Again”…



We’re back in the saddle again
Out where mole friends will attend
Where the polo ponies speed
On the lovely green sod field
Back in the saddle again

Ridin's the game once more
Totin' my cold ones from store
Where you ‘screen out UV right
And the Mole C doc won’t bite
Back in the saddle again

Whoopi-ty-aye-oh
Blockin' U, can’t glow
Back in the saddle again
Whoopi-ty-aye-yay
Let’s go that day
Back in the saddle again

We’re back in the saddle again
Out where mole friends will attend
Where the polo ponies speed
On the lovely green sod field
Back in the saddle again

Ridin's the game once more
Totin' my cold ones from store
Where you ‘screen out UV right
And the Mole C doc won’t bite
Back in the saddle again

Whoopi-ty-aye-oh
Blockin' U, can’t glow
Back in the saddle again
Whoopi-ty-aye-yay
Let’s go that day
Back in the saddle again

Sunday, June 29, 2014

God Only Knows



The sad but honest truth is that there’s just nothing about my golf game that resembles that of a PGA Tour player. (Or even that of the guys on the Senior Tour who are struggling to make the cut and play on the weekend to make enough money to retain their Tour cards.) They’re all a world apart from me with every club in their bag. The one and only thing we do have in common is that some of those guys are speaking out about sun-safety on the course and setting a good example for us unskilled duffers. Check out a great sun-safe golf PSA video here

With undying love for my much- improved pitching, chipping and putting game, unscented sunscreen and snazzy SPF 50 golf duds, here’s the Hotel Melanoma version of “God Only Knows” from The Beach Boys…



I may not always love you
But long as there are scars from much U
You never need to doubt it
I'll make it on Tour and flout it
God only knows what hide be without you

If you should ever leave me
Though nine would still go on, believe me
The world would know duffing through me
So what good would pitching do me
God only knows what hide be without you

God only knows what hide be without you

If you should ever leave me
Though nine would still go on, believe me
The world would know putting screwed me
So what good would chipping do me
God only knows what hide be without you

God only knows what hide be without you

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Jargon-free Rock



I really do like nearly all of the doctors I’ve seen since checking into The Hotel Melanoma, and there’ve been a squadron of them if you count the tag-along residents. But every once in a while a doc will say something just a little bit clueless and drive me crazy. Like the one who told me about ten days after I’d completed biochemotherapy that “You certainly don’t look as good as you say you feel”. True, I’m sure, but why would you ever say that to your patient?

I’m really not asking for much. One, I have a name so please use it when referring to me. My mama didn’t name me “The Patient”. Two, talk to me straight and in layman’s terms. I’m a big boy and can handle bad news, and I’m not stupid; I just didn’t go to medical school and learn to speak medical jargon. And three, lighten up and let your personality and emotions show through the white lab coat armor. I don’t think it’d be “unprofessional” of you to share a laugh or a tear with your patient.

For all of the fine docs who don’t drive me crazy, here’s The Hotel Melanoma rendition of John Mellencamp’s “I Need a Lover”…



I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
Some cure that shows the meaning of a
“Hey hit the highway”

Well I've been walkin' the halls up and down
Pacing through the clinic jungles in fright
I'm so confused, my mind is indifferent
Hey I'm so weak, won't somebody shut off that light

Mean toxicity runs through the IV pole
And I watch it from this hole I call home
And all we ‘homies are dancin' ‘round the IV poles
And I got the cure brawling C up here
Tonight mel is blown

I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
Some cure to chill me and mel go away
I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
Some cure that shows the meaning of a
“Hey hit the highway”

Now I'm not wiped out by this Hotel life I'm living
I'm gonna get this prob, win this duel, and head back home
And I'm not askin' to be loved or be forgiven
Hey I just can't face bakin' skin, its red gloom
One more frightful mole

I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
Some cure that shows the meaning of a
“Hey hit the highway”

I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
Some cure to chill me and mel go away
I need a doctor that won't drive me crazy
Some cure that shows the meaning of a
“Hey hit the highway”
We’ll getcha

Saturday, June 21, 2014

On The Beach



Today we enjoy the summer solstice and longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. And I just had to get out on the golf course and spend some quality time ‘on the beach’. The club has a new teaching pro who was offering free 15-minute golf lessons today. Cheap and talentless player that I am, I was going to sign up until I saw that he’d set up a video camera to record his pupils’ swings. A Kardashian wannabe I’m not, and one of the many things I never, ever want to see myself doing on video is swinging a golf club. So I high-tailed it out of there before forever losing my delusion that I have the silky-smooth swing of Freddy Couples.

By the way, I missed ‘my’ sand trap today because I pulled my tee shot left into the pine trees. Wishing you all a happy and sun-safe first day of summer, I’ll sign off with a little song to sunscreen and my SPF-50 golf duds, to the tune of “Take Me in Your Arms” from The Doobie Brothers…



I know you're screenin', screenin' me so fine
I'm needin’ you darlings for a very fast nine
Show a little SPF karma before I glow
Please let me feel your embrace once more

Save me from sun harms
(Block me, Block me a little while)
Oh little darlings
(Block me, block me a little while)

We all must feel par ache sometimes
Right now, right now I'm feelin' mine

I've tried my best to be long, but I'm not able
I fly it helpless wild, left and unstable
Before I leave green, par I’m leavin' far behind
Please let me feel happy one more time

Save me from sun harms
(Block me, block me a little while)
Oh little darlings
(Block me, block me a little while)

I'm losin' hue and my tanning fest
My hide it was so dark I must confess

I'll never, never see a flying ace no more
I'll ever, ever fear the shock when count my score
Before I leave green, leave green with nine
Please let me feel happy one more time

Save me from sun harms
(Block me, block me a little while)
Oh please baby
(Block me, block me a little while)
Oh yeah, yeah

I'm making hue leavin'
(Save me, save me)
Oh ray screen please yeah
(Save me, save me)
Come on ray screen
(Save me, save me)
Can't you see me on my knees now
(Save me, save me)
Come on ray screen can't you save please
(Save me, save me)
Come on ray screen, oh baby please, please, please

Save me from sun harms
(Block me, block me a little while)
(Save me, save me, save me)
Oh little darlings
(Block me, block me a little while)
(Save me, save me, save me)
Come on ray screen
(Block me, block me a little while)
(Save me, save me, save me)
Oh little darlings
(Block me, block me a little while)
(Save me)
Yeah
(Block me, block me a little while)
(Save me, save me)
Oh little darlings

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

The Bunker Time Blues



I played a sunny round of golf today with my Extremely Senior Geezer Golf League, and it was kind of a rough one. By the time we’d completed the front nine I’d put so many errant shots in sand traps that one of my playing partners offered to buy me a beach towel. My sand wedge got a little less of a workout after we made the turn, but only because there are fewer bunkers on the back nine. Oy.

But all was not lost. Toward the end of the round my ‘towel boy’ commented on my course attire of long pants and long sleeves (SPF 50 fabric, by the way) on a very warm by Colorado standards day. As you might expect, I took the opportunity to strike a blow for melanoma and skin cancer awareness. Unfortunately, the sun-browned and nearly deaf third member of our group-- who is beginning to bear a striking resemblance to an Egyptian mummy-- didn’t hear the exchange. Maybe next time.

Wearing sunscreen is dandy, of course, but a recently published study suggests that sunscreen alone is not enough to protect us from contracting melanoma. (Check it out here.) So, my golfaholic friends, please wear some freakin’ sun-protective clothing out on the course, not just sunscreen. You probably don’t look all that good in shorts anyway.

Until next time, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma take on Alan Jackson’s cover of “Summertime Blues”…



Well, I'm gonna raise a fuss, I'm gonna raise a holler
About workin' all summer just to try an' earn some golf pars
Every time my ball goes straightly, to try to not make eight
My ball says, "Roll dice, son, you gotta sand save"

Sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna shoot
'Cause there ain't no cure for the bunker time blues

Well, my mom an' papa told me, "Son, you gotta wear some sunscreen,
‘Cuz you gonna get the scars from not hidin’ on sun days"
Well, I didn't hear their words, ‘cuz my head was too thick
Now I can't lose the scars 'cuz U did the cancer trick

Sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna shoot
'Cause there ain't no cure for the bunker time blues

I'm gonna take two weeks, gonna have sand vacation
I'm gonna take my problem to the U.S.G.A.-tion
Well, I called my golf coach man and he said quote
"I'd like to help you son, but you're too old for hope"

Sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna shoot
'Cause there ain't no cure for the bunker time blues

Well, I'm gonna raise a fuss, I'm gonna raise a holler
About workin' all summer just to try an' earn some golf pars

Sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna shoot
'Cause there ain't no cure for the bunker time blues
Yeah, sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna shoot
'Cause there ain't no cure for the bunker time blues

No there ain't no cure for the bunker time blues

Sunday, June 15, 2014

A Father's Day Gift

According to the Melanoma Research Alliance, men are more likely to discover melanoma at a later stage and twice as likely to die from it. And if your father (or grandfather) is a typical guy, he’s probably spent a bunch of time outdoors without any protection from any sissified, sweet-smelling sunscreens and he’s sustained a lot of sunburns over the past few decades. So, in addition to giving him a Father’s Day Gift he’ll actually enjoy—like a bottle of single malt scotch or a box of ammunition—try talking him into getting a thorough skin check. It’ll be a gift that just might save his life.

If you can get him to see a dermatologist who specializes in diagnosing melanoma, rather than doing girly cosmetic stuff like tattoo removals and Botox injections, good for you. But if he’s anything like me before my check-in to The Hotel Melanoma, you’ll probably have about as much success in getting him to see a dermatologist as you would in persuading him to attend a Miley Cyrus concert. My own primary melanoma tumor was spotted and biopsied by a ‘plain old’ family medicine specialist who knew his ABCDEs of melanoma and performed a thorough inspection of my weathered hide in the course of a routine annual physical. So don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good, and call it a win if you can convince Dad to have his primary care doc perform a full-body skin check the next time he sees him.

For all of you whose own father is long gone, but never forgotten and often seen in yourself and his other descendants, I’ll sign off with an unaltered song for Father’s Day-- Eric Clapton’s “My Father’s Eyes”…



Sailin' down behind the sun
Waitin' for the Prince to come
Praying for the healing rain
To restore my soul again

Just a toe rag on the run
How did I get here?
What have I done?
When will all my hopes arise?
How will I know him
When I look in my father's eyes?

My father's eyes
When I looked in my father's eyes
(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes

Then the light begins to shine
And I hear those ancient lullabies
And as I watch this seedling grow
Feel my heart start to overflow

Where do I find the words to say?
How do I teach him?
What do we play?
Bit by bit, I've realized
That's when I need them
That's when I need my father's eyes

(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes
That's when I need my father's eyes
(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes
(Yeah)

Then the jagged edge appears
Through the distant clouds of tears
Now I'm like a bridge that was washed away
My foundations were made of clay

As my soul slides down to die
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, I've realized
That he was here with me
And I looked into my father's eyes

(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes
I looked into my father's eyes
(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes

My father's eyes
(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes
I looked into my father's eyes
(Look into my father's eyes)
My father's eyes

(Look into my father's eyes)
(Look into my father's eyes)
(Yeah, yeah)
(Look into my father's eyes)

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Dang Glad To Be Here



I’ll be turning sixty-one tomorrow. And I’m dang glad to be here, creeping ever so closer to becoming a Medicare and Social Security burden on the Millennial Generation, since my fiftieth birthday ‘present’ was a room key at The Hotel Melanoma. I’ve been way, way luckier during my extended stay than all too many of the other Hotel guests. So if anyone wants to give me a birthday present tomorrow, I hope it’ll be a donation to fund melanoma treatment research.

Still hoping to someday check out of The Hotel Melanoma with a diagnosis of a durable cure, I’ll sign off with a slight twist to Eric Clapton’s “Call Me the Breeze”…



Well, they call me the geez
'Cuz I keep rollin' down the road
They call me the geez
'Cuz I keep rollin' down the road
I ain't got C in body
I ain't carry me no load

Ain't no change in the leather
Ain't no change in me
Ain't no change in the leather
Ain't no change in me
I ain't hidin' from mole buddies
Pray mole buddies hidin' from C

I got that ‘screen right, baby
I got to keep movin' on
I got that ‘screen right, baby
I got to be movin' on
I might check out of Hotel ‘Noma
I might get brown nostalgia, I don’t know

They call me the geez
As I keep rollin' down the road
They call me the geez
'Cuz I keep rollin' down the road
I ain't got C in body
I ain't carry me no load

Saturday, June 7, 2014

Burnin' Alive

I expect today’s post expresses a contrarian opinion that may prompt a few eye rolls, but what the heck…

You see, whenever some “celebrity” (whose celebrity-ness is quite often unknown to me until I Google their name) garners a ton of social media attention and publicity over a diagnosis of basal cell carcinoma, or even squamous cell carcinoma, about all I can think is “BFD”. I guess I ought to be appreciative whenever celebrities use a skin cancer diagnosis to urge their adoring fans to wear sunscreen or stay out of tanning beds. But my cynical recovering attorney mind suspects their true agenda is simply a narcissistic attempt to exploit a relatively minor brush with The Big C to get their fix of free publicity. And I think of all of my non-famous melahomies fighting a truly life threatening ‘skin cancer’ who work so hard, and with no potential career or financial gain, to influence their friends, co-workers and family members to change their high-risk indoor and outdoor tanning behaviors. In my curmudgeonly world, they are the true celebrities.

By the way, you skin cancer celebs, I’ve had a total excision of a squamous cell carcinoma and will soon experience a second. And compared to a wide local excision of a melanoma tumor, it’s truly no BFD. So there, Tweet that!

Licking my psychic wounds from several atrocious golf swings earlier today and repressing an urge to drive down the hill and firebomb my local “Tan Your Hide” salon, I’ll sign off with the Hotel Melanoma take on AC/DC’s “Burnin’ Alive…


AC/DC - Burning Alive (lyrics) by soulsurvivor25

[Oooh yeah]
Burnin' alive, set my moles on fire
Sunnin' kicked my buns, this place is gonna burn
No biopsies, or Solarcaine
No plunder store, no Doc Pain
No kids to stalk, nowhere to ‘sun’
So watch out 'cause this place is gonna burn

Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
[Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive]

Rays be tannin' your hide, young sunnin' child
Tell you somethin' to fear, ‘cause the buck stops here!
C came from a little brown small mole
And someday, maybe, it'll go up in smoke

[I say]
No biopsies, or Solarcaine,
No plunder store, and no Doc Pain
No kids to stalk, nowhere to ‘sun’
So watch out, cause this place is gonna burn

Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
It's an all-out war, an all-out war
Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive

Somewhere, there's a little brown small mole
And someday, maybe Ray C, will impale and croak!

[Yeah, we're] Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
[Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive]
It's an all-out war, an all-out war
Hear the battle roar, it's an all-out war
[Yeah we're] Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive
[Burnin' alive, Burnin' alive]

[Yeah] Watch the place burn down