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, March 15, 2011

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

I had my MRI today, sans Ativan overdose. The scan shows that Mr. Schwannoma is stable and my favorite radiation oncologist says it just might never need another radiation whacking. I’m sure glad for that because it’s almost golf season and I wouldn’t want to spend any of it truckin’ to the Pavilion. (And if I did need more radiation treatments, I’m afraid my insurance company might propose a cost-saving alternative like a trip to Japan and a job on a reactor cleanup crew.) This good news reminds me of a funny thing that happened in preparation for my first experience in goin’ ‘nucular’ a few years ago.

Long story, but I was mixed up with another patient and initially fitted with the wrong type of radiation mask. Consequently, I had to truck on back to the hospital for a second try. I wouldn’t guess that the fitting and targeting process is anything like being waterboarded, but it does involve a certain claustrophobic, smothering sensation. So it’s not something you’d want to do twice in one day. The funny thing is, I didn’t get annoyed about it-- and that’s a bit out of character for a guy who used to exhibit “Attila The Hun” qualities in law practice. I guess that by that stage in my long, strange trip as a patient I’d come to understand that ‘stuff’ happens. Plus, the folks in the radiation oncology department couldn’t have been nicer or more apologetic about the error and they’ve taken great care of me.

So, I’m inspired to offer a song of gratitude for these kind caregivers, sung to the tune of the Beatles' "With a Little Help From My Friends"...



What would I do if they did the wrong thing,
would I haul off and sue them for free?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
and I'll try not to sing out of key.

No, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.

What do I do when my tumor’s at bay?
(Does it worry you it’s still your own?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you mad because it still is shown?)

No, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.

Could you sue anybody?
No, I need nobody to shove.
Could you seek legal redress?
No, I just know medics I love.

Would you believe in a cure at first sight?
Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time.
What do you see when a tee shot veers right?
I can tell you that I know it's mine.

Oh, I got by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I got spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.

Could you sue anybody?
No, I need nobody to shove.
Could you seek legal redress?
No, I just know medics I love.

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.
Mm, I get spry with a little help from my friends.
Mm, gonna thrive with a little help from my friends.
...with a little help from my friends.

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