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

Friday, March 8, 2013

The Leathered Look

I had a nice chat on the driving range yesterday with a fellow golfaholic who turned out to be a physician who does cosmetic laser surgery. He told me my face was sun-damaged and that I ought to be using more sunscreen on the course, and reapply it after finishing the front nine. No kidding. Like tell me something I don’t already know. But I can’t seem to forget my fellow blogger Al’s story about applying sunscreen before hitting the range and then losing his grip and flinging a club high up into the air because he hadn’t wiped off his hands before taking that first full swing. That’s no way to start a back nine with playing partners who won’t give you a mulligan. So maybe I’ll just play golf this season in a hockey goalie’s mask—with my game, anonymity on the course wouldn’t be a bad thing anyway.

To the tune of Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times Bad Times”…

In the days of my youth
I was told that sunscreen can beat a tan
Now I've reached old age
I try to use all those things the best I can
No matter how I try
I find my rays into the same old jam

Good times, tan lines, you know I've had my share
Well, my onc man called home ‘bout a frown-eyed scan
But I still don't seem to care

Sixteen, I fell in love with a burn as ‘plete as could be
It only took a couple of days 'til C got hid in me
C swore that he would be all mine and bug me 'til the end
But then he withered in first year, I lost another ‘friend’, oh

Good times, bad times, you know I've had my share
Well, my onc man hit home with a drug trial plan
But I still don't seem to care

Good times, rad times, you know I've had my share
Well, my claims man called home 'bout a denied scan
But I still don't seem to care

I know what it means to be C-prone
I sure do wish I could go home
I don't care what the ray bores say
I'm gonna bug you each and every day

You can see sunscreen hidin’ my parts
Realize, sweet shade, we ain't ever gonna part…

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