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

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

A Captive Audience



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?

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Procrastination Rock

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