A Self-Inflicted Wound

You know, it’s not easy for a recovering attorney to be honest with himself. But on those semi-rare occasions when I am, I realize that nearly all of my problems and failures in life (and most certainly on the golf course) have been self-inflicted wounds.


Take melanoma for instance. I was a naturally pale kid of Celtic descent, covered with moles and freckles and more likely to burn than bronze. But that didn’t stop me from working several summers as a lifeguard and trying to look like some brown surfer dude. My ‘sunscreen’ was baby oil. Those reckless days in the sun took about thirty years to catch up with me, but catch up they most certainly did.

Thanks to biochemotherapy, I just may have dodged this bullet. But I just have to wonder what I’m doing today that may come back to haunt me in the future. And whether I’d change that behavior if I knew big trouble lay before me somewhere down the road. Oy.

So, next time I start to climb on my high horse and lampoon some foolish soul like Tan Mom, maybe I should pause and first look inward?

I’ll sign off with a little ditty about me, The Hotel Melanoma version of Jackson Browne’s “You Love The Thunder”…



When you look over your shoulder
And you see the life that you've left behind
When you think it over do you ever wonder?
What it is that holds your life so close to trial?

You love to blunder and you love the flame
What you see revealed within the danger ain’t worth the pain
And before the fright’ning fades and you see end near
You've got a second to look at the dark side of the tan

You love to blunder and you love the flame
You know your sun fear like you know your name
And I know you wonder how you ever came
To be a young man in love with a tan in search of C’s pain

Draw the blade and flight it higher
For it’s slice that scolds you when golf’s your game
And just like your driver, knows you’re no Tiger
And the crazy swing thing that time will never tame

You love to blunder and you love the flame
You know the rough here like you know your name
You shot high number and it's still the same
And you can dream
But you can never go back and save the game

Volunteers

I probably shouldn’t admit this here, but WTH, I’m retired and never running for public office. While something of a slacker compared to many folks of my generation, I did sample a few “controlled substances” back in the late 60’s and early 70’s when that sort of experimentation was common among nearly everyone in my peer group, other than some Young Republican dork angling for an internship in the Nixon White House. But none of those substances, when it comes to the degree of mental impairment they induced, could hold a candle to some of the entirely legal drugs that’ve been prescribed for me by licensed medical professionals during the course of my stay at The Hotel Melanoma. Particularly during the course of biochemotherapy treatment. Stoned I was, and I now have a renewed appreciation for the joys of clear headedness.


For all of you who’ve taken a prescribed trip down pharmaceutical lane, particularly you clinical trial volunteers, The Hotel Melanoma version of Jefferson Airplane’s “Volunteers”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SboRijhWFDU


Look what's drippining down in IVs
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Hey I'm dancing ‘round on sheets
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Ain't it amazing how the doctors they treat
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
This boomer patient got stoned
This boomer patient got flown
This boomer patient got no neural action of own
Pick up the cry
Hey now it's time for you and C
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Come on now we're marching to IVs
Got to have infusion, Got to have confusion
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers for new pharmaca
Volunteers for new pharmaca!

Curiosity

Last night, NASA successfully landed its unmanned rover “Curiosity” on Mars. Bravo. This single bold mission of exploration will cost $2.5 billion. That considerable sum of money is just a rounding error in the $3.8 trillion federal ‘budget’ in fiscal year 2012, but here’s a striking comparison: the National Cancer Institute’s cancer research budget has averaged $4.9 billion per year in fiscal years 2005-2010. And just over $100 million was spent on melanoma research in fiscal year 2010.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a supporter of funding a space exploration program and am disappointed that U.S. astronauts currently have to buy a ticket to space from the Russians, who also operate Aeroflot-- the world’s most dangerous airline. But shouldn’t Uncle Sam be more than twice as curious about kicking cancer to the curb as he is about whether Mars once supported any form of life?

The Hotel Melanoma rendition of The Four Tops’ “Baby I Need Your Loving’”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUOntQocGWk


Black C, you need more funding
Black C, you need more funding

Although you're ever near
Our voice I rarely hear
Another day, another night
I long to halt U fright
'Cause it kills coldly

Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding

Some say it's a sign of weakness
For a man to beg
Then weak I'd rather be
If it means kickin’ you to street
'Cause lately it’s been losin' streak

Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding

Angry cries echo your name
Whoa, sometimes I wonder
Will we ever ease your pain?
Oh yeah

When you see me smile, you know
Songs have gotten worse
Any songs you might see
Have all been re-versed

Star thing, I can go on without you
This SPF will let me live without you
This chemo mess inside me, star thing
Made me steal half a life

Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding

Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding
Black C, you need more funding
Got to have lots more funding

The Ploys of Summer

I played a round of stinkingly bad golf today with my Geezer Golf League. The day included some quality links time in the woods, the water, out-of-bounds, and on the “beach”. I landed drives on one street and several cart paths, but luckily not on anyone’s house because tall ponderosa pine trees were in the way. Short putts leaked right and left. And I sailed a lovely, high shot with a pitching wedge over the elevated 18th green, resulting in a triple bogey 7. Oy.


About the only thing I did “right” out there today was to wear sun protective clothing and almost enough sunscreen. But it ‘hacks’ me off that I have to take these measures on the course and can’t indulge in the summer bronzing days of my pre-melanoma youth without getting slapped up the side of the head by my favorite oncologist. If I can’t play competently, why do I also have to be as pale at the end of the season as a serial killer locked up on death row? Yes, I miss my tanner days, and I suspect I’m not alone in that sentiment here at The Hotel Melanoma.

Hoping for a better round next time, I’ll end this whine festival with my version of Don Henley’s “Boys Of Summer”…


Don Henley - Boys Of Summer by jpdc11

No UV on my moles
No UV on the “beach”
I ‘screen it in my hair
This green is out of reach
Balls in lake, balls in street,
No hole goes down in one
I'm drivin' by your house
So I hope you're not home


I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got my hair grown back and my
Sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone


I never will forget sun times
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how U made C crazy?
Remember how it made me ‘screen?
Now I don't understand
What's happened to my sun,
But rays I'm gonna get you back
I'm gonna show you that my pale's gone


I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I see me scorin' real low and
Smilin' at everyone
I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone


Out on this hole today
I shot a dead straight driver on a golf cart path
A little voice inside my head said,
"Don't look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what par was,
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but


I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got that shot knocked down and that
Par 3 in one baby
And I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone


I can see me
My brown skin shinin' in the sun
I got that hair thick back and those
Fairway shots on, baby
I can tell you my love for U will still be strong
After the ploys of summer have gone

Ain't Wastin' Time No More

Nearly everyone living somewhere in the Hotel Carcinoma chain receives the blessing of a renewed understanding that “time is of the essence”-- that life is fragile and fleeting, and therefore deserves to be enjoyed, employed and treasured in the here and now. And that perhaps one’s priorities in life need to be reshuffled and reordered to center upon what’s really important. But in my ninth year of residency at The Hotel Melanoma, I sometimes wonder whether I’ve lost my grip on these unexpected gifts that came with a Stage IIIc diagnosis in 2003. (Like, why would an athletically challenged old cuss like me spend so much time in a fruitless and Quixotic quest to lower his golf handicap?) Not that I’m hoping for a whack up the side of the head like a hard fall off the NED wagon, but I do mourn something lost and am trying to figure out how to get it back. Any suggestions?


For all of you who still get it because you’ve still got it, my take on The Allman Brothers Band’s “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ciq_JwomTZA


Last Sunday mornin’ … the putts fine fell like rain
Week before … they all … failed to drain
With the help of God and you friends … I come to realize
I still have true song words … and better things to try


And oh I … ain't-a wastin’ time no more
'Cause time goes by like … surg’ry drains … and last year’s flings


Lord, lord Miss Sunrays … why … all your fryin’?
Seen the brown fear, C long stays-uh … you lookin' like you're dyin'
Just check yourself our hide and look up at the scars we’ve scored
Mole C’s brown frown baby … find some sunscreen to hoard


Meanwhile I … ain't-a wastin' time no more
'Cause time goes by like … mole thing pain … and life’s plaster things


You don't need no biopsy to tell you why
You can't let one precious day slip by
But look inside yourself … and if you don't see what you want
Maybe it’s time then to own it
But see your time’s well owned, don’t just get by … oh, yessuh


Well by and by way after … many years have gone
And all our mole freaks die off … leavin' us alone
We'll praise God’s children in the grateful way we can
It's up to you and me brother
To try and try again


Well, hear us now … we ain't wastin' time no more
'Cause time goes by like … hurried fame
Sunnin' after sun prey wains
Don't forget the mole thing pain