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

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

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