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.
As a blogger I’ve been quite the slacker this past fall season. I suppose I could blame it on the distractions of a couple of long road trips, outdoor chores to complete before the snow flies here in the Rockies, and a two-year-old golden retriever who craves long walks in the nearby woods. But the real reasons are a lingering state of hollowness following the death of a dear melahomie, my first Imerman Angel mentee, and sorrow for the deep pain of loss being suffered by her family, a pain I feel helpless to ease.
There will be a newly emptied seat at the table at oh so many family Christmas celebrations this week, be it from disease, accidents, acts of terrorism, or the wars our soldiers have been fighting for over a decade. Please honor the true meaning of Christmas, love, by taking a break from all the Holiday hustle and bustle to say a prayer for these families and their lost loved ones.
I’ll sign off until the New Year with a new rendition of “Helpless” from Neil Young and The Band…
There are some homes in North America
Dreams comfort, mem'ries to share
And in my mind I still need a place to go
All my angels are there
Blue new widows resigned to scars
Mela gloom on the rise
Big herds trying to stop the fry
Healthy tanning is salons’ lies
Leave us
Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless
Babe, can you hear me now?
The chains are locked and tied across the door
Baby, sing with me somehow
Blue new widows resigned to scars
Mela gloom on the rise
Big herds trying to stop the fry
Healthy tanning is salons’ lies
This Saturday is my 12th “cancerversary” of completing biochemotherapy treatments for Stage IIIc melanoma and beginning a very blessed run with no evidence of disease. I so wish I could bottle my good fortune and hand it out by the case to my melahomies. Obviously I can’t, but the drinks are on me Saturday night at the Hotel Melanoma lobby bar.
Hoping that the F.D.A.’s recent approval of Yervoy as an adjuvant treatment for Stage III patients will lead to many, many more treatment success stories like my own, I’ll sign off with my take on AC/DC’s “Have a Drink on Me”…
Frisky, skinned and dandy
With the sass I'm pretty handy
I'm trying to walk the pale line
With panache and cheap rhymes
So join me for a drink, boys
We're gonna make a big noise
So don't worry about tomorrow
Take it today
Forget about the check
We'll get Mel to pay
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Yeah, have a drink on me
Have a drink on me (on me)
Come on
Dizzy, ‘drunk’ and fightin'
On the chemo quite frightnin'
My mass will get no quarter
On risky nights of slaughter
So come on and have a good time
And get blinded out of your mind
So don't worry about tomorrow
Take it today
Forget about the check
We'll get Mel to pay
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me (on me)
Get stoned
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me (yeah)
Have a drink on me,come on
Oh
Gonna roll around
Gonna hit the ground
Take another swing
Have another drink
Gonna drink it dry
Gonna get me high
Come on all the boys
Make a noise
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
Have a drink on me
As some of you may have surmised from certain unauthorized photos posted on social media, I participated in a melanoma walk last weekend at The University of Arizona Cancer Center in Tucson. (Yes, golf was most certainly a factor in my choosing this particular event, although the way I played down there I don’t know why.) Having arrived at the event with time to kill before walking, I decided to sashay into the dermatology clinic to take advantage of a free skin check. (And with my new sky-high insurance deductible, courtesy of Obamacare, free is a very good thing indeed.) The looks on the faces of various clinic staff members that were ‘attracted’ by my black tutu were simply priceless.
Until next time, I’ll sign off with the Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Daydream Believer” from The Monkees…
Oh, I could hide 'neath the strings
Of the blue gown as she clings.
The skin check doc’s alarm would never ring.
But it rings from my fries,
Wipe the weep out of my eyes.
Thy shavin' razor's cold and it stings.
Fear the freebie screen.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a rayscreen believer
And a Sol shunning ‘queen’.
You once thought of me
As a white fright on news feed.
Now you know how sappy I can be.
Oh, and our ‘good times’ start and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.
Fear the freebie screen.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a rayscreen believer
And a Sol shunning ‘queen’.
Fear the freebie screen.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a rayscreen believer
And a Sol shunning ‘queen’.
Fear the freebie screen.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a rayscreen believer
And a Sol shunning ‘queen’.
Fear the freebie screen.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a rayscreen believer
And a Sol shunning ‘queen’.
Happy First Birthday in Heaven, my friend! For Donna, to the tune of “My Girl” from The Temptations…
We've got sunshine on a cloudy day
When it's cold outside we’ve got the month of May
Well I guess you'd say
What can make us feel this way?
Our girl (our girl, our girl)
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl)
We've got so much honey the bees envy we
We’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees
Well I guess you'd say
What can make us feel this way?
Our girl (our girl, our girl)
Talkin' 'bout our girl ( our girl ooh)
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey
Ooh yeah
We don't need no money, fortune, or fame (ooh hey hey hey)
We’ve got all the riches baby her fans can claim (oh yes I do)
I guess you'd say
What can make us feel this way?
Our girl (our girl, our girl)
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl)
(Talkin' 'bout our girl our girl) We've got sunshine on a cloudy day
With our girl (Our girl)
(Talkin' 'bout our girl our girl) We've even got the month of May
With our girl (our girl, woah)
She's all we can think (our girl)
(Talkin' 'bout our girl our girl)
Talkin' 'bout, talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl, woah)
Too sad and hollow to find the right words of remembrance right now, so just my rendition of James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain”…
Just yesterday evening, they let me know you were gone.
Donna, the fans you made did descend on you.
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song,
I just can't remember all the friends of you.
I've seen fire and I've seen rain.
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,
But I always thought that I'd see you again.
Won't you look down upon me, Jesus,
You've got to help me make a stand.
You've just got to see me through another day.
My heart is aching and my soul’s in crash land,
And I won't make it any other way.
Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain.
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,
But I always thought that I'd see you again.
Been walking my mind to an easy time,
My back turned towards the sun.
Lord knows when the mole wind blows it'll turn your head around.
Well, there's hours of time, got the megaphone primed, to talk about things to come.
Sweet dreams of frying machines in pieces on the ground.
Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain.
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend,
But I always thought that I'd see you lady, one more time again, now.
Thought I'd see you one more time again.
There's just a few things coming my way this time around, now.
Thought I'd see you, thought I'd see you, fire and rain, now.
I finally stopped procrastinating and made an appointment with my favorite university hospital dermatology clinic (where I don’t compete with tattoo removals and other cosmetic stuff for an appointment slot). So next month it’ll be time to get naked in front of young female dermatology residents who look to me like they’re young enough to be my granddaughters. I should feel sorry for these kids for having to make a close inspection of my tattered and unprepossessing carcass. But I don’t, because they chose this line of work and on completion of their residency training will be making the big bucks. And some melanoma researcher friends have placed dibs on any melanoma tissue samples I may spawn in the future, so if I have a new primary at least some good may come out of this appointment.
Looking forward to having the most fun an old fellow can hope to have in public without risking an indecent exposure charge, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll”…
I saw her standin' there by the mole map machine
I knew she must a been about seventeen
Heart beat was goin' strong
Wearin' my fav’ sarong
An' I could tell it wouldn't be long
Till she was with me, yeah me,
An' I could tell it wouldn't be long
Till she was with me, yeah me, singin'
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
She smiled so I got up and asked for her name
That don't matter, she said,
'Cause “Skin Doc”’s nickname
Said can I show you mole where C can be ingrown
An' next we removin' on
She was with me, yeah me
Next we removin' on
She was with me, yeah me singin'
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
Said can I show you mole where C can be ingrown
Next we're viewin' on
She was with me, yeah me
And we'll be viewin' on
An' singin' that same old song
Yeah with me, singin'
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
I love Doctor Mole
So put some younger eyes on my boondocks, baby
I love Doctor Mole
So come an' take your time an' lance at me
Pinktober is kind of a tough month for the inmates at The Hotel Melanoma. It’s not that we don’t detest breast cancer (and every other cancer) and hope and pray for a cure. We surely do. It’s because Corporate America will be sticking a pink ribbon on just about anything and everything in hopes of pushing more products out the door, while claiming it’s to promote breast cancer awareness, and then continue to largely ignore melanoma and every other form of cancer for the next eleven months. The unintended (I hope) message is that the rest of us at The Hotel Carcinoma just don’t count. And that sometimes hurts more than a bit.
But I think we at The Hotel Melanoma will continue to hang together this coming month and not let up on our individual little campaigns to educate the uninformed about the Black Beast and tear down the walls of this place. I myself am considering a counter-revolutionary campaign of getting a few thousand black ribbon stickers and randomly placing them on products displayed down at my local Kroger chain grocery store. Anyone care to join me?
Until next time, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Jefferson Airplane’s “We Can Be Together”…
We can be together
Ah you and me
We should be together
We are all outlaws in the eyes of America
In order to survive we heal, treat, cry, gorge, shed, guide and feel
We are sunscreened, flawless, beauteous, stage 4 pests, shirty, not silent and young
But we should be together
Come on all you people standing around
Our life's too fine to let it die and
We can be together
All your silent mockery is
Target for your enemy
And your enemy is
We
We are forces of chaos and anarchy
Everything they say we are we are
And we are very
Proud of ourselves
Up against the wall
Up against the walls (motherfucker)
Tear down the walls
Tear down the walls
Come on now together
Get it on together
Everybody together
We should be together
We should be together my friends
We can be together
We will be
We must begin here and now
A new confidence of worth and fire
Come on now gettin higher and higher
Tear down the walls
Tear down the walls
Tear down the walls
Won't you try
Last week’s sad news of President Carter’s metastatic melanoma diagnosis reminded me once again, “there but for the grace of God go I”. Although I’m a very lucky Stage 3c survivor now in my 13th (yikes) year of N.E.D. residency at The Hotel Melanoma, I nevertheless yearn to break out of this place and run away as fast and as far as possible. But I can’t because the nature of the Black Beast is that folks like me will forever be at risk of disease recurrence and progression. Like it or not, we’re all captives of this place until there’s a “cure”. And perhaps that’s why we received the news of Jimmy Carter’s check-in with quite mixed emotions-- deeply saddened that he’s joined our ranks, yet guiltily grateful that a renowned public figure has spoken out about his disease and cautiously hopeful that his public candor and courage might bring us all just a little bit closer to the saving grace of a cure.
Wishing this blog’s ‘captive audience’ health and well-being, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Saving Grace” from Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers…
I'm ‘passing’ peeping CT’s
Waiting for disease
Not believing all I see to be so
I'm cryin' over Black’s scars
Funky moles cause blanches
Wanting life between the scanning bestowed
And it's hard to say
Who you are these days
But you run on anyway
Don't you baby?
You keep running for another place
To find that saving grace
I'm living in unknown, Hotel grounds that no one owns
Blast treatments can’t atone for fry sins
There's a guard on every door
And a drink on every floor
Overflowing with a thousand amens
And it's hard to say
Who you are these days
But you run on anyway
Don't you baby?
You keep running for another place
To find that saving grace
Don't you baby?
You're strolling up the carpet
Of this Hotel’s new expansion
No bedroom in McMansion no more
And there's some quarters on this floor
They're telling you are yours
You're provident but not really cured
And it's hard to say
Who you are these days
But you run on anyway
Don't you baby?
You keep running for another place
To find that saving grace
Don't you baby?
You keep running for another place
To find that saving grace
Don't you baby?
I was reminded this past weekend at Colorado Melanoma Foundation’s Mallets for Melanoma fundraiser that I’m a month (or three) past due to get naked at my favorite dermatology clinic. Yes, I’ve been procrastinating because I just don’t wanna go. I’d rather play golf, although Lord knows why the way I play, or hike or even pull weeds than spend a fine summer’s day under the gaze of a dermatology resident who looks to me like she’s not old enough to score a medical marijuana card from the Great State of Colorado, much less practice medicine. And thank you so much Mr. President for my skyrocketing health insurance deductible that’ll make anything they do at the clinic short of total skin replacement surgery completely out-of-pocket. So maybe I’ll get around to it this fall, or maybe I won’t until Medicare kicks in or I think I might be experiencing some urgent dermatologic emergency. And then I’ll complain about how long it takes to get an appointment.
Which brings to mind the extortion potential of a fundraising idea I’ve been mulling over. What if I threatened to post on Facebook an album of selfies of every square inch of my mole-covered old carcass and asked for your expert medical opinions as to whether any of said moles are abnormal and in need of a biopsy? Would you make a donation to my favorite melanoma nonprofit to avoid seeing such a disturbing visual assault in your newsfeed?
I know, I know, I need to take care of myself so I’ll make that derm appointment soon and before it gets urgent. And so should you.
Until next time, I’ll sign off with another ode to the Black Beast to the tune of Foreigner’s “Urgent”…
I’m lot shy, I hate blue gowns
I used to fry, don't want more treatment go ‘rounds
I ‘screen up, I won't come brown
I wanna live, I wanna shoot lower rounds
Got fire in your veins
Burnin' tots but you don't feel their pain
Your desire is insane
You can't stop until you do it again
But sometimes I wonder as I look in doc’s eyes
Maybe she’s wishing for some younger guy
But she knows, yes she knows, how to treat you right
That's why she studies in the middle of the night
They say it's urgent
So urgent, so oh oh urgent
Just wait and see
How urgent my moles can be
It's urgent
You play tricks on my mind
You’re everywhere but you’re so hard to find
You’re not warm or sentimental
You’re so extreme, you can be so temperamental
Yes, I'm just looking for some drug that will last
I know what we need and we need it fast
Yeah, there's one thing in common that we all share
That's a need for ‘screen cover anytime, anywhere
It gets so urgent
So urgent
We know it's urgent
I wanna tell you it's the same for me
So oh oh urgent
Just you wait and see
How urgent new drugs can be
It's urgent
We say it's urgent
Make it fast, make it urgent
Do it quick, do it urgent
Gotta rush, make it urgent
Want it quick
Urgent, urgent, emergency
Urgent, urgent, emergency
Urgent, urgent, emergency
Urgent, urgent, emergency
So urgent, emergency
Emer... emer... emer...
It's urgent
Today’s is my 600th blog post, believe it or not. I know why I keep postin’ on and it’s for one simple reason: the badass melahomies I’ve been privileged to meet during my extended stay at The Hotel Melanoma inspire me. You may bend, but you never break under the burden of battling an unrelenting beast of a cancer. And I hope my lyrical efforts provide a few moments of respite from your battles.
For all who refuse to be broken, here’s an ode to melanoma to the tune of Bonnie Raitt’s “I Will Not Be Broken”…
Tan was then and pale is now
I found my way black and fears abound
Pray you'll someday let me go
I told you once, I told you so
Take me down
You can hold me but you can't mold what's within
Pull me 'round
Push me to the limit, maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be
Someone other than who I am
I will fight to make my stand
'Cause what is livin' if I can't live free
What is freedom if I can't be me
Take me down
You can hold me but you can't mold what's within
Pull me 'round
Push me to the limit, maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I won't let you near it
I will let my spirit fly
Fly high
Oh, take me down
Take me down
You can hold me but you can't mold what's within
Pull me 'round
Push me to the limit, maybe I may bend
But we both know I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be, no no Black C
This past weekend I had the great pleasure of meeting up with some dear melapals at Miles for Melanoma Chicago. It was a joyful and sometimes raucous weekend, which included the group being ‘invited’ to vacate the bar area of a semi-famous chain steakhouse. But there were tearful times as well, because the folks pictured above run the gamut of the community touched, and often hammered, by the Black Beast. A couple of exceedingly fortunate, long term survivors of metastatic melanoma. Parents grieving the loss of a young son and a daughter grieving the loss of her mother. And badass melanoma warriors in the thick of battle with a seemingly unrelenting foe.
Now more than ever, I’m craving for a cure, sometimes to the point of getting just a little bit crazy about it. So until next time, I’ll sign off with a song for a cure, to the tune of “Goin’ Out of My Head” from Little Anthony & The Imperials…
Well, I think I'm goin' out of my head
Yes, I think I'm goin' out of my head
Over you, over you
I want you to haunt C, I need you so badly
I can't think of anything but you
And I think I'm goin' out of my head
Cuz I can't explain the tears that I've shed
Over you, over you
I seek you each morning
But you just mock past pleas, you don't even know that I exist
Goin' out of my head over you
Out of my head over you, out of my head day and night
Night and day and night, wrong or right
I must think of a way into your heart
There's no reason why my being fried should keep us apart
And I think I'm goin' out of my head
Yes, I think I'm goin' out of my head
Goin' out of my head over you
Out of my head over you, out of my head day and night
Night and day and night, wrong or right
Night and day and night
Wrong or right, day or night
Every day, every, every day
There’s no getting around the fact that living at The Hotel Melanoma sometimes just bites. But my life in the ‘scan lane’ has also been a time of bonding with some of the finest, kindest and most giving and supportive folks I could ever have hoped to call friends.
I’ll be blessed to travel to Chicago next weekend for a Miles for Melanoma Run/Walk, but the event itself will just be a minor diversion from something far more important-- getting to share some hugs, fellowship, and adult beverages with some of my melahomies.
With gratitude for all in the melanoma community who’ve made the journey down Melanoma Road anything but a solitary one, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of John Mellencamp’s “We are the People”…
If you're feelin' shut down
May my thoughts be with you
If you're a black ‘fan’ bein' beat down
And shoved all around
May my thoughts be with you
If your world's gettin' a little too tough
You know our thoughts are with you
Hey, I know that it's crazy in here
And my thoughts are with you
We are C people and we give forever
We are C people and our future's written
On the skin, on the skin
If you are one of the mole-less
May our thoughts be with you
If you are scared and alone
You know our thoughts are with you
If you are one of the fortunate ones
We all know it's lonely up there
We understand that nobody's got it made
So our thoughts are with you
We are C people and we give forever
We are C people and our future's written
On the skin, on the skin
See yourself as a leader
May my thoughts be with you
If you try to divide and conquer
We'll rise up against you
We know some of the strong won’t survive
But the meek will not bear it
So if you've got a coat of arms, oh friend
I suggest we wear it
We are C people and we give forever
We are C people and our future's written
On the skin, on the skin
An excerpt from my very first blog post, which needed a song…
“On the way-too-early morning of September 15, 2003, I checked into the university hospital’s critical care oncology unit to begin my first of four rounds of biochemotherapy. After nearly three months of diagnostic work and surgery, I was ready to finally do something, perhaps anything, to start putting up a fight. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play, today.
I really didn’t have a clue what was in store for me over the course of the next five in-patient days. That’s not because the nice folks at the clinic didn’t tell me all about it, because they most certainly did. Call it a healthy state of denial born from desperation. I was so scared of the alternative, i.e. likely and imminent death, that I’d probably have swallowed plutonium if that’d been the recommended treatment regimen.
A couple of hours or so into the initial blast infusion, the sense of bravado was way gone. Had I been physically capable of doing so, I probably would’ve high-tailed it out of there never to return. I’ll spare you the details of the brutally toxic side effects of this treatment. Suffice it to say there’s a good reason they only do this on an inpatient basis, which allows constant monitoring and treatment of side effects; otherwise you’d probably die. A fine nurse named Johanna eventually knocked me out with a nice dose of Demerol into the infusion line. Thank you and goodbye. Unfortunately, my wife was still wide-awake and had to watch what has happening; I think the rest of the week was harder on her than me.
The week ended with nurse Johanna deciding I needed to take a walkabout around the unit, to help bring my blood pressure and blood oxygen levels up to a safe enough level for discharge. I recall slowly shuffling down the hall, propped up on either side by my wife and Johanna—both are short and of convenient crutch height—with somebody dragging the IV pump tree stand along. The walkabout worked, and I thank her for that.
I think the hardest thing about chemotherapy is going back for more. I’m still not sure how I talked myself into returning for rounds two, three and four. My best guess is it was some combination of desperation, determination, and the sense I’d be letting everybody down, including myself, if I’d failed to show up.”
And now for that song: an ode to IL-2, the primary ingredient of that biochemo cocktail in the convenient 24-hour bag, to the tune of Led Zeppelin’s “You Shook Me”…
You know you shook me
You shook me all night long.
You know you shook me, baby
You shook me all night long.
You shook me so hard baby
Baby, baby, please hit home.
I have some nerves that sizzle
And I have nerves that sting.
I have some nerves that sizzle
And I have nerves that sting.
I have the Ray C, just do something oh!
Oh, oh, I’m a frightened thing.
You know you shook me, baby
You shook me all night long.
I know you really, really, did baby.
I said you shook me, baby.
You shook me all night long.
You shook me so hard, baby.
You shook me all night long
I turned 62 today and am counting my blessings in reaching this advanced age. And wishing I could pass on my good fortune to some dear melahomies.
For the docs who didn’t seem to think I’d make it this far, here’s the Hotel Melanoma rendition of The Cars’ “Let the Good Times Roll”…
Let the good times roll
Let them sock you drug round
Let the good times roll
Let them make you wear gown
Let them leave you up in the air
Let them blush when skin check goes bare
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Let your stories be told
You can say what you want
Let your photos be bold
Let them show what you want
Let them leave you up in the air
Let them blush when skin check goes bare
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll-oll
Won't you let the good times roll
Good times roll
If the infusion is real
Let them give you a trial
If they got wonder drug deal
Let them be on your side
Let them leave you up in the air
Let them blush when skin check goes bare
Let the good times roll
Won't you let the good times roll-oll
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Won't you let the good times roll
Well let the good times roll
Let 'em roll (good times roll)
Let the good times roll
Let the good times roll
Ooo let the good times roll
Let 'em roll (good times roll)
Well, let the good times roll
(Let the good times roll)
Well let the good times roll
Good times roll
(Let the good times roll)
Let the good times roll
Let 'em roll
As this wet and chilly Melanoma Awareness Month in the Rockies winds down, I’m left with a ‘burning’ question for Dr. Science (whom I am not): Can UV radiation penetrate water? I mean, I was strolling down the par-3 17th hole on Wednesday (after once again splashing a lovely tee shot in the above-pictured bunker) and listening to the frogs croaking. Despite the fact that the 17th hole lies nowhere near a stream or lake. Did I wake up back in Oregon this month? Oy.
My ‘in-depth’ research tells me that as long as you can still see light underwater, you are still getting hit by UV rays. Plus, any exposed flesh sitting above the water line is getting hit by extra UV radiation reflecting off the water. So thank heavens I was out on the links clad in UPF-50 duds and sunscreen, as well as a good bit of mud left over from trying to hit balls off of swampy fairways. And, with little thanks owed to me, my 3-man best ball team won $4 apiece!
Pining for a sunnier and dryer weekend, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Sam Cooke’s “Another Saturday Night”…
Another Saturday night and I ain't got glow body
I want some sunny but I must stay pale
How I wish I had some sun to block to
I'm in an awful way
I got in town a month ago, I heard a lotta frogs since then
If I could see 'em I could get 'em but as yet I haven't met 'em
That's why I'm in the shape I'm in
Here another Saturday night and I ain't got glow body
I want some sunny but I must stay pale
How I wish I had some sun to block to
I'm in an awful way
Another fella told me he had a swing coach who fixed a slice
Instead of being my deliverance, he had a strange resemblance
To a tan-maimed Frankenstein
Here's another Saturday night and I ain't got glow body
I want some sunny but I must stay pale
How I wish I had some sky to block U
I'm in an awful way
Here it is another weekend and I ain't got glow body
Man if I was back home I'd be swinging
Two strokes under par
Aww yeah
Listen to me huh
It's hard on a fella, when he don't know just where’s dry ground
If I don't find me some sunny to help me mend lie muddy
I'm gonna have to blow this round
Here it's another Saturday night and I ain't got glow body
I want some sunny but I must stay pale
How I wish I had some sky to block U
I'm in an awful way
The National Council on Skin Cancer Prevention has designated this Friday Don't Fry Day to encourage sun safety awareness. But with all of the soggy weather we’ve been having in my neck of the Colorado woods I’m afraid it’s going to be another “No Sky Day”. Like, I was fool enough to try to play some golf the other day with my Extremely Senior Men’s League and several of my tee shots splashed on landing even when I managed to hit the fairway. Even the sand traps had been transformed into water hazards. And after successfully hitting one rescue shot out of swampy and deep rough I found my ball embedded in the fairway and barely visible to the naked eye. Oy.
So if this Friday turns out to be a dry and sunny day I just may risk an indecent exposure charge (as well as the opprobrium of my unfortunate playing partners) and play naked sans sunscreen just to soak up some excessive UV radiation, which at this altitude is 35% more intense than at sea level. Take THAT dear National Council on Skin Cancer Prevention.
Hoping that Friday brings ‘fryable’ playing conditions, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma take on The Beatles’ “Good Day Sunshine”…
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine.
I need to golf, and when the sun is out
I've got some swings I can laugh about,
I play woods, in a ‘special’ way.
I'm golf gloved and it's a sunny day.
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine.
We ruin good walk, the sun is shining down,
Always cheat when I play a round.
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine.
And when ball lies, behind a shady tree,
I move it so I’m swinging free.
Par’d be good, although I’m on in five.
I'm allowed two strokes, that green is mine.
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine.
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine,
Good day sunshine.
My melahomies of the ocular persuasion receive way too little attention from the media and general public during this Melanoma Awareness Month of May, and almost none during the rest of the year. According to the Ocular Melanoma Foundation, ocular melanoma (a/k/a uveal melanoma) is diagnosed in about 2,500 adults in the United States every year and it fatally metastasizes (most often to the liver) in about half of all cases. OM is the second most common type of melanoma after cutaneous melanoma and represents about 5% of all melanomas.
The Ocular Melanoma Foundation, in collaboration with A Cure In Sight , have designated this Wednesday, May 20 as Eye Patch Day 2015, when OM warriors around the globe will wear eye patches to raise ocular melanoma awareness. I hope everyone living at The Hotel Melanoma will join together in showing some love and support for our OM mates by recognizing Eye Patch Day 2015.
Just in case I’m unable to find a couple of eye patches for the pup and me, plus a selfie stick to take a photo of us, here’s an unaltered song for my OM friends from The Flamingos-- because on Eye Patch Day 2015 “I Only Have Eyes For You”…
My love must be a kind of blind love
I can't see anyone but you
Are the stars out tonight?
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright
I only have eyes for you, dear
The moon may be high
But I can't see a thing in the sky
I only have eyes for you
I don't know if we're in a garden
Or on a crowded avenue
You are here and so am I
Maybe millions of people go by
But they all disappear from view
And I only have eyes for you
I was fortunate enough to spend several days in Arizona last week and, although I didn’t much like it, managed to practice what I preach and spend a sun-safe holiday in the desert. My walking and lap swimming took place before 9 a.m. I booked a 7 a.m. tee time (on a snazzy course that was way too expensive for a guy whose USGA handicap index comes with a parking sticker) and still played in a UPF-50 long-sleeved golf shirt and slacks ensemble. My poolside time was spent under an umbrella. (Picture a white whale lounging on a deck chair.) I did take a midday mountain bike ride in shorts and a t-shirt (and no squirrelly bike helmet, thank you very much) but I was dutifully well-coated in sunscreen. But, truth be told, I was longing all the while to bask in the sun and lose my phosphorescent white sheen. Oy.
Until next time, I’ll sign off with a love song to my lost love the Sun, to the tune of The Four Tops' “I Can’t Help Myself”…
Sugar pie honey bunch
You know that I love you
I can't help myself
I love you and nobody else
In and out my life
You come and you go
Leaving just your cancer behind
And I kicked it a thousand times
When you snap your fingers
Or wink your eye
I come a running to you
I'm tied to you, baby
And there's nothing I can do
Ooh, cant' help myself, no I can't help myself, come
Sugar pie honey bunch
I'm weaker than a man should be
I can't help myself
I'm a fool in love you see
Want to tell you I don't love you
Tell you that we're through
And I've tried
But every time I see your face
I get up all choked up inside
When I call your name, Sol
It starts the flame burning in my heart
Tearin' it all apart
No matter how I try
My love I cannot hide
Sugar pie honey bunch
You now that I'm weak for you
I can't help myself
I love you and nobody else
Sugar pie honey bunch
I'll do anything you ask me to
I can't help myself
I want you and nobody else
Sugar pie honey bunch
You know that I love you
I can't help myself
No I can help myself
Sugar pie honey bunch
Despite the past efforts of a few misguided souls to get us to dress like giant Cheetos on Melanoma Monday, most of the melanoma community embraces our true awareness color, BLACK. (I’ve taken to wearing black boxer briefs every day of the year, but I’m guessing you really didn’t want to know that and I most assuredly won’t be posting any selfies to document my dedication to black.) Please stand together with your chic and well-informed melahomies on Melanoma Monday, May 4, and “Paint it Black”.
Every awareness event needs an anthem, and I couldn’t think of one more fitting for a united Melanoma Monday 2015 than Ben E. King’s “Stand by Me”…
When sun fright has come
And the scan is stark
And the moon is the only light I'll see
No, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me
Stand by me
If sun fry, that I took chance on
Makes frontal assault
And this old man should crumble to Black C
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
And darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me
Stand by me
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me
Oh stand by me, oh won't you stand now, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me
Attention all Colorado melahomies! Please join me and make your best ‘night moves’ at this upcoming Melanoma Awareness Month event, which benefits Colorado Melanoma Foundation, Inc. The Melanoma Night Walk is in memory of Justin Vicory, a 35-year-old husband and father who was taken by melanoma last fall. It’s an event that Justin had started to plan prior to his death, and his widow DeeDee is now carrying on with his wishes to raise funds for melanoma education, prevention, early detection, and treatment research.
Still wishing I’d done a lot more of my outdoor work and recreation at night rather than in the mid-day sun sans sunscreen, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Bob Seger’s “Night Moves”…
I was a little too ‘Sol’d’
Could've losed a few browns
Write rant posts, hardly renowned
C was my back bared booty with big dark fries
Tanned joints all my own getting way up fried
Way up burned and fried
Out past the sun’s yield when the night gets heady
Outin’ the Black Beast with my nifty bevy
Workin' on mysteries without any clues
Workin' on our night moves
Trying' to make some front page Night Walk news
Workin' on our night moves in the summertime
In the sweet summertime
We aren’t rid of, oh no far from it
We aren’t searching for some pie in the sky summit
He was just young and precious and soared
Living by the Lord
And we'll heal this craze, there’s a chance we could
Fill the vacuum, let’s rally, do justly good
We need cure, C bruised we
Cuz everyone cares
We want mela be rare
Workin' on our night moves
Trying to lose the awkward teenage hues
Workin' on out night moves
In the summertime
And oh the wonder
Felt the fright thing
And we waited on the wonder
Waited on the wonder
I hoped last night for a round of funders
How far off I sat and wondered
Started humming a song from 1962
Ain't it funny how the night moves
When you just don't seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closing in
I don’t know about you, but there have been quite a few times during my extended stay at The Hotel Melanoma when I’ve had a strong desire for heavy sedation. Like all the times when I got the high fever shakes so bad during biochemotherapy treatments that kind nurses knocked me out with a nice shot of Demerol into my PICC line, thank you very much. And on the occasion of the first MRI scan of my brain when I took an accidental overdose of Ativan to counter my extreme claustrophobia—a mistake my dear wife will likely never forget or completely forgive. And last, but not least, during the seemingly interminable waits to receive scan results or pathology reports.
With gratitude that I’ve no need of pharmaceutical assistance to get me through this lovely spring day in the Rockies, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma Rendition of “I Wanna Be Sedated” from The Ramones…
Plenty plenty plenty more hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do, nowhere to go oh,
I wanna be sedated
Just get me doctor’s report, ease my worried strain
Hurry hurry hurry, before I go insane
I can't control my rigors, I can't control my pain
Oh no oh oh oh oh
Plenty plenty plenty more hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do, nowhere to go oh,
I wanna be sedated
Just put me in a wheelchair, find the friggin’ vein
Hurry hurry hurry, before I go insane
I can't control my rigors, I can't control my brain
Oh no oh oh oh oh
Plenty plenty plenty more hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do, nowhere to go oh,
I wanna be sedated
Just put me in a wheelchair, get me through the slow
Hurry hurry hurry, before I go loco
I can't control my rigors, I can't control my glows
Oh no oh oh oh oh
Plenty plenty plenty more hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do, nowhere to go oh,
I wanna be sedated
Just put me in a wheelchair, get me through the slow
Hurry hurry hurry, before I go loco
I can't control my rigors, I can't control my glows
Oh no oh oh oh oh
Ba ba baba, baba ba baba, I wanna be sedated
Ba ba baba, baba ba baba, I wanna be sedated
Ba ba baba, baba ba baba, I wanna be sedated
Ba ba baba, baba ba baba, I wanna be sedated
I got myself out on the links today for my first nine holes of Geezer Golf of the season. My rusty game wasn’t pretty; and at my age and worn physical state it likely isn’t going to get much shinier. Mulligans were taken, lies were improved, and a score wasn’t kept. But I had fun and, thanks to some sunscreen and SPF 50 golf duds, my post-game skin tone doesn’t match this golf ball.
For those readers who have the good sense not to play golf, a mulligan is a second chance to better perform an action—specifically, a stroke that is replayed from the spot of the previous stroke without penalty, due to an errant shot made on the previous stroke. Although mulligans are prohibited under the official rules of golf promulgated by the nitpicking Nazis who rule the United States Golf Association, they make the game a lot faster and more enjoyable for us hopelessly high handicappers who just play for fun, fellowship and fresh air. And wouldn’t it be nice to get a mulligan on some of the ‘errant shots’ we’ve made in life, like failing to protect our skin prior to checking into The Hotel Melanoma?
Until next time, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of Def Leppard’s “Animal”…
A wild ride, over bogey ground
Such a lust for slice, the surplus sums each round
We are the spunky ones, on a fright’ning fade
Just like a river runs, like a fire needs flame
Oh, I yearn for youth
I gotta screen skin with my duds, whoa, oh
I need more touch don't need more sun, whoa, oh
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
I try golf, drive some out of bounds
I’m improvin' hardly, in the witching hour
I'm stunnin' with the sticks, Nick Faldo is nonplussed
And yikes the drivin' pain, hey, yikes the endless rust
I better cheat
I gotta screen skin with my duds, whoa, oh
I need more touch don't need more sun, whoa, oh
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
Huh! Oh! Try golf baby, try golf
Gonna stunt you like man, uh, uh, fallible
Gonna take your bucks n' run
I gotta screen skin with my duds, whoa, oh
I need more touch don't need more sun, whoa, oh
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want, and I need, and I’m just, fallible
And I want
(And I want)
And I need
(And I need)
And I’m just
(And I’m just)
Fallible
(Fallible)
And I want
(Save me)
And I need
(Save me)
And I’m just
(Save me)
Fallible
(So fallible)
And I want
(Show me)
And I need
(Stroke free)
And I’m just
(Let me be more)
Fallible
(Fallible)
And I want
(I want)
And I need
(Ooh, ooh, ooh)
And I’m just
Fallible
(Fallible)
Five years ago today I came out of my closet and published my first (rather long) blog post about life as a melanoma patient. Today’s is my 587th post. So what do I think I’ve accomplished with all of this verbiage and song?
I’ve ranted, I’ve whined, I haven’t ever come remotely close to going even slightly viral with a post, and I certainly haven’t succeeded in raising much money for melanoma research. But I’ve bared my soul and perhaps inspired or encouraged a few melahomies to do the same with their own blogs that have had a far wider reach and impact than mine. No one has sued me for defamation or copyright infringement. I may have succeeded in slightly raising melanoma “awareness” (a term I dislike intensely), although as near as I can tell none of my posts have been read by more than a handful of folks who don’t already live at The Hotel Melanoma. (Like, my wife asked me a while back whether I was still blogging.) But I’m pretty certain I’ve put a smile on the faces and a song in the hearts of some fellow Hotel residents, and that’s reason enough to keep on trying.
I suspect I’ll never know or see all of the ripple effects of stepping out of my room and blogging, but I do know one thing for sure. Writing Welcome to The Hotel Melanoma has drawn me into a warm, supportive and welcoming community of mole mates and meeting a whole bunch of really nice people. Thank you all for being here.
Just this once, I’ll leave a fine old song unmarred. The Grateful Dead’s “Ripple”…
If my words did glow
With the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played
On the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice
Come through the music?
Would you hold it near
As it were your own?
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
It's a hand-me-down
The thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall, you fall alone
If you should stand then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home
Over the years since checking into The Hotel Melanoma, I’ve caught quite a few quizzical looks at my phosphorescent white hide and been teased about covering up outdoors with long sleeve shirts and sunscreen. I bet you have too. And you may have even been told by some quack TV ‘doctor’ that sunscreens are bad for you because they contain dangerous chemicals or their use will lead to Vitamin D deficiency. So let we at The Hotel Melanoma band together like the Irish rebels of old, stand up to the foolish tanned, and proudly wear our sunscreen. Wishing you all a festive St. Patrick’s Day, a day when we’re all at least a little bit Irish, here’s The Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Wearing of the Green” from The Wolfe Tones…
Oh, Paddy dear, did you hear the news that's going 'round?
The tan block is forbid by docs to flow on Irish browned
Saint Patrick's Day no more to weep, pale color must be seen
For there's a bloody doc again' the Wearing of the ‘Screen.
I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand
And he said "How's poor old Melaland and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they're slamming men and women there for Wearing of the ‘Screen."
She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they’re slamming men and women there for Wearing of the ‘Screen.
Then since the color we must wear is Tan Land's cruel red
Sure Melaland's sons will never forget the blood that they have shed
You may pull the tan block from your pack and slap it on the bod
Sun 'twill take root and flourish there, though undercooked 'tis mod.
When docs can stop black cancer mass from growing in my moles
And when bare knees in summertime dare endure eighteen holes
Then I will change the color too I wear on hole nineteen
But 'til that day, please God, I'll stick to Wearing of the ‘Screen.
She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they're slamming men and women there for Wearing of the ‘Screen.
But if at last pale color should be torn from Melaland's heart
Her sons, with rage and sorrow, from the dear old white will part
I've heard a whisper of a land that lies beyond the sea
Where rich and poor stand equal in the white of ‘screenin’s way.
Ah, pale land, must we seek you, driven by the vibrant tanned
Must we seek a doctor's blessing in a strange and distant land
Where the cruel cross of Tan Land shall never more be seen
And where, please God, we'll live and die, still Wearing of the ‘Screen.
She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they're slamming men and women there for Wearing of the ‘Screen.
“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.” An Irish Blessing
The rooms and corridors of The Hotel Melanoma are all too often over-filled with suffering and sorrow. The pain of surgery, the grueling sickness from brutal chemotherapy and immunotherapy regimens, and the never-ending grieving over lives cut short by the arbitrary and capricious serial killer that is melanoma. Hoping and praying that all who are suffering will soon catch a break on their long journey down Melaroad, I’ll leave you with my rendition of Gordon Lightfoot’s “Carefree Highway”…
Pickin' up the pieces of my C-shattered dreams
I wonder how the old moles are tonight
The bane was tans and I'll be damned when I recall the waste
C left me not knowin' what to do
Carefree highway, let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mournin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away, slip away on you
Turnin' back the pages to the times I love best
I wonder if C'll ever do the same
Now the thing that I call livin' is just being satisfied
With knowin' I got no one else to blame
Carefree highway, I got to see you once again
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mournin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away, slip away on you
Searchin' through the baggage of my mean cancer thief
I wonder if the fears have closed my mind
I guess it must be wanderlust or tryin' to get free
From the good old fateful peelin' we once knew
Carefree highway, let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mournin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away, slip away on you
Let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, I got to see you once again
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mournin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away, slip away on you
Our friends at The Skin Cancer Foundation are suggesting we perform a couple's skin exam for Valentine’s Day. And they’re not talking about a twofer appointment with a dermatologist.
This sounds like quite a lot of fun, but I’m guessing it just isn’t happening for me this year. Hoping it does for you, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of The Beatles’ “Drive My Car”…
Asked my girl what she wanted fourteenth
She said, "Baby, can't you see?
I wanna be faded, a star of sunscreen
But you can do something in between”
Baby, you can jive my scar
Yes, you’re gonna see boudoir
Baby, you can jive my scar
And maybe I'll love you
I told that girl that my doc checks were good
And she said, "Baby, it's understood
Skin checks at clinics, it’s all very fine
But I can show you a better time"
Baby, you can jive my scar
Yes, you’re gonna see boudoir
Baby, you can jive my scar
And maybe I'll love you
Peep peep'm, peep peep, yeah
Baby, you can jive my scar
Yes, you’re gonna see boudoir
Baby, you can jive my scar
And maybe I'll love you
I told that girl, I can start right away
Then she said, "Listen babe, I got something to say
I got no scar and I’m faking that part
But I've found enquirer and that's a start"
Baby, you can find my mars
Yes, you’re gonna see boudoir
Baby, you can find my mars
And maybe I'll love you
Peep peep'm, peep peep, yeah
Peep peep'm, peep peep, yeah
Peep peep'm, peep peep, yeah
Peep peep'm, peep peep, yeah
I’ve been a slothful blogger this past month, I guess because I’ve been preoccupied with operating a snow blower, paint brush, and tennis ball chukker. None of which I’m especially talented at. But I had the pleasure of speaking with a couple of representatives of Imerman Angels this past week and was duly inspired to sit down at the keyboard and do something more productive than taking more jabs at Patriots Coach Bill Belichick on Facebook.
Imerman Angels provides 1-on-1 cancer support by matching cancer fighters with a “Mentor Angel” who has experienced a similar cancer situation, giving fighters the chance to receive support from a peer who is truly familiar with the situation. (They also have a program for cancer caregivers.) They have a need for more melanoma survivors of all ages and stages to serve as volunteer Mentor Angels. I’ve been one and it’s a great way to “give back” and help someone who’s just checked into The Hotel Melanoma. And I can sure remember a time when I wish I’d had a Mentor Angel to provide some much-needed help, inspiration and courage, and that time could come again. Please consider getting involved with Imerman Angels; somebody out there needs your help.
Until next time, and who knows when that’ll be, I’ll sign off with The Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Help” from The Beatles…
Help, I need some buddy
Help, not just any buddy
Help, you know I need someone
Help!
When I was younger, so much dumber than today
I never needed anybody's help in any way
But now these days are gone I'm not so self-assured
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors
Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being 'round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won't you please, please help me?
And now my life has changed in oh so many ways
My tan dependence seems to vanish with skin flays
And every now and then I need a listener
I know that I just need you like I've never done before
Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being 'round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won't you please, please help me?
When I was younger, so much dumber than today
I never needed anybody's help in any way
But now these days are gone I'm not so self-assured
Now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the doors
Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being 'round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won't you please, please help me?
Help me, help me, ooo
A new research study from Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine found that most cancers are primarily caused by bad luck rather than poor lifestyle choices or defective DNA-- biological bad luck in the form of random mistakes in cell division which are completely outside of our control. But don’t throw away your sunscreen and SPF duds because this study also found that basal cell skin cancer (the researchers apparently didn't include melanoma as one of the 31 types of cancer covered in the study) doesn’t fall into the ‘just bad luck’ category and is instead linked to sun exposure.
There’s no doubt that my diagnosis of Stage IIIc melanoma at age 50 wasn’t just the result of random mistakes in cell division and that my years of unprotected fun (and work) in the sun were a contributing factor. The price of my foolish braising was sixteen cycles of in-patient biochemotherapy treatments, which one of my nurses described to my wife as dosing me to the ledge of death while treating the severely toxic side effects so that I didn’t fall over the cliff. Which I very nearly did in a couple of Code Blue events during treatment.
Wishing I knew back then what I know all too well know, I’ll sign off with a lyrical “Dear 16-year-old Me” message, to the tune of AC/DC’s “The Razor’s Edge”…
There's frying on the left
And parching on the right
Don't cook up in the sky
You're gonna die of fright
Here comes the braiser’s ledge
You're living on the ledge
Don't know wrong from light
Mel’s breathing down your neck
You're running out of lives
And here comes the braiser’s ledge
Here comes the braiser’s ledge
The braiser’s ledge
Braiser’s ledge, to praise the red
Braiser’s ledge, to sun in beds
To praise the red
Here comes the braiser’s ledge
Here comes the braiser’s ledge
Well here skin comes to cut to shreds
The braiser’s ledge
The braiser’s ledge [it's the braiser's ledge]
Gotta braiser’s ledge [well, the braiser’s ledge]
You'll be cut to shreds [that you'll be cut to shreds]
By the scalpel’s edge [gotta razor's edge]
Gotta razor’s edge [by the scalpel's edge]
My blog reflects an ongoing quest to find the good stuff and the funny stuff I've stumbled into during my stay at The Hotel Melanoma since receiving a Stage IIIc diagnosis in 2003. And to raise awareness about this relatively unknown brand of cancer. If you find it of value in your own quest, please share it with others and make a donation to your favorite melanoma nonprofit organization to fund melanoma education, prevention and treatment research. If you're wondering why my golden retriever, Jordan, is pictured here, well, he actually writes most of my posts and he's a lot better looking than me.
