Something Good Coming

Back in the Dark Ages of melanoma treatment, 2003 to be exact, I had a close encounter with a Stage IV diagnosis. A CT scan showed a large mass next to my cervical spine. The initial prognosis was quite grim, as further metastasis to my spine, brain and heart was likely. I was told that the only treatment options available at the time, radiation and chemotherapy, might extend my life a few months but would not commute my almost certain death sentence. Lucky for me, and against all odds, the mass turned out to be a benign nerve tissue tumor, not a melanoma tumor. It’s been one troublesome sonofabitch requiring extensive neurosurgery and radiation treatments (and permanent nerve damage has wreaked havoc on a golf swing that was never pretty) but it isn’t a killer.

The state of metastatic melanoma treatment has so very, very much changed for the better since 2003. Today there is real and thoroughly rational hope for long term survival after a Stage IV diagnosis. And I have to believe that we’re nowhere near done with treatment advances and there is something good coming to The Hotel Melanoma. Soon, very soon.

Thinking of my friend Donna today, I’ll sign off with my take on “Something Good Coming” from Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers…



I'm watching the bloggers
Watching the posts
Suddenly I know
What I want the most

And I want to tell you
Still I hold Black
I need some time
Get my life on track

I know that look on your face
But there's somethin' plucky about this place
And there's somethin' good comin'
For you and me
Somethin' good comin'
There has to be

And I'm thinking 'bout Donna
And about her kids
And the way she lived
And the things she did

How she never had a chance
Never caught a break
And how we pay for our skin mistakes

I know so well the look on your face
And there's somethin' plucky about this place
There's somethin' good comin'
Just over the hill
Somethin' good comin'
I know it will

And I'm in for the long run
Wherever it goes
Ridin' the river
Wherever it goes

And I'm an earnest man
Hope’s all I know
You take that away
Don't know where to go

And I know that look that's on your face
There's somethin' plucky about this place
There's somethin' good comin'
For you and me
Somethin' good comin'
There has to be

A Blogoversary Oldie

I’ve been quite the blogging slacker of late, but I’ve been aroused today from my winter torpor because it’s the 6th anniversary of the ‘grand’ opening of The Hotel Melanoma. I often wonder (while my chemo-soaked brain wanders) just why it is that I keep doing this. I guess I do it because I just ‘love’ the Black Beast and every so often (like this past January) I’m reminded by some vigilant medic that I can’t ever breakup with her. And because I feel obliged to continue to stand up and be counted among the ranks of the very lucky, long term survivors of a complicated relationship with this b***h.

Hoping and praying that the next six years is even better for treatment advances than the last six, I’ll sign off with a little ‘love’ song to our adversary. To the tune of “Let’s Hang On” from Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons…



There ain't no could in our goodbyein'
New drugs take a lot of tryin'
Oh, my fryin’…

Let's hang up on what we've got
Just let go, girl, we've fought a lot
Got a lot of ‘love’ between us
Hang up, hang up, hang up on what we've got

You say you're gonna go and call it quits
Gonna chuck it all and break our ‘love’ to bits
Break it up (I wish you'd ever said it)
Break it up (oh yo, I’ll not regret it)
That little blip of shining on old scans
Cost a fortune, baby
But you know it stands for the ‘love’, (a love to tie and bind ya)
Such a ‘love’ (we just can't leave behind us)

Baby (don't you know?)
Baby (won't you go)
Think it over and stray

Let's hang up on what we've got
Just let go, girl, we've fought a lot
Got a lot of ‘love’ between us
Hang up, hang up, hang up on what we've got

There isn't anything I wouldn't do
I'd pay any price to get all good from you
Pack it up (give me a second learnin')
Pack it up (don't fuel spots while I'm burnin')

You've got me cryin', dyin' at your door
Just shut me out, ooh, let me out once more
Open up (your arms, I need paroled new)
Open up (your heart, oh girl, I drugged you)

Baby, don't you know?
Baby, no, no, no
Think it over and stray

Let's hang up on what we've got
Won't let go, girl, we've fought a lot
Got a lot of ‘love’ between us
Hang up, hang up, hang up on what we've got

A Sneaky S.O.B.

Last Sunday I was looking like I’d taken a hard punch to my right jaw. (I can think of several people- including my wife- who might want to take a punch at me, but nobody did.) My primary care doc’s diagnosis on Monday was “lymphadenopathy, cervical”. So, after the primary care doc talked to my dermatologist, who in turn talked to my oncologist, I’ll be trucking up to the melanoma clinic next week for a checkup and likely a bonus “fine needle aspiration”, which they always seem to do in the breast cancer clinic where I draw some very quizzical looks from other patients. The initial plan was to do a head/neck CT scan prior to this checkup, but my wonderful insurance company refused to authorize it; but that’s okay with me, I guess, because I would’ve had to pay for it thanks to my sky-high deductible and now maybe I’ll dodge a scan expense.

The strong odds are that my lymph node(s?) are merely enlarged by an excess intake of chocolate over the Holidays. Or single malt Scotch. But then again we all know that melanoma can be one sneaky S.O.B and pop up after years of lying dormant. Be vigilant my friends. No matter how long you’ve been in “no evidence of disease” status, please be watchful and have regular monitoring checkups with a melanoma specialist.

Feeling a touch of melanoma paranoia, I’ll sign off with the Hotel Melanoma rendition of “S.O.B.” from Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats…



I'm gonna need some docs to help me
I'm gonna need some body scans
I'm gonna need someone to hold me down
I'm gonna need someone to care
I'm gonna writhe and shake my body
I'll start pulling out my hair
I'm going to cover myself with more splashes of goo
And mole buddies gonna give a damn

Son of a bitch, get me a shrink
One more fright is shaking me
Son of a bitch
If I can't scan clean I'm gonna drink my life away

Now for seventeen years I've been growing them black
Seventeen more will bury me
Can somebody please just tie me down
Or somebody get me a goddamn shrink

Son of a bitch, get me a shrink
One more fright
This can't be C
Son of a bitch
If I can't scan clean I'm gonna drink my life away
Hey, Yeah now

My heart is quaking, hands are shaking
Docs are pawing all over me
My heart is quaking, hands are shaking
Docs are pawing all over me
My heart is quaking, hands are shaking
Docs are pawing all over me
My heart is quaking, hands are shaking
Docs are pawing all over me

Son of a bitch, get me a shrink
One more fright
This can't be C
Son of a bitch
If I can't scan clean I'm gonna drink my life away
Son of a bitch, get me a shrink
One more fright
This can't be C
Son of a bitch
If I can't scan clean I'm gonna drink my life away
Yeah ah

Poke-a-Mole

Just for grins on a wintry day here in the Rockies, The Hotel Melanoma rendition of “Kokomo” from The Beach Boys…



Keytruda, can quake ya, ooh I wanna take ya
Intruduh, skin trauma, come on pretty mama
Opdivo, doc ego,
Baby why don't we go,
Fake-bake ya

Off the Florida Keys
There's a place called Poke-a-Mole
That's where you wanna go
To get away from it all
Bodies never tanned,
Topical zinc melting in your hand
We'll seek awning in sun
To the rhythm of a steel drum band
Down in Poke-a-Mole

Keytruda, can quake ya, ooh I wanna take ya
Intruduh, skin trauma, come on pretty mama
Opdivo, doc ego,
Baby why don't we go
Ooh I wanna take you down to Poke-a-Mole,
We'll get there fast
And then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go,
Way down in Poke-a-Mole.

Doublespeak, that doctor rap mystique...

We'll put out the C
And we'll perfect our chemistry
By and by we'll deny
What’s little left of sanity
Afternoon delight,
Cocktails and moonlit nights
That dreamy look in your eye,
Give me a tropical contact high
Way down in Poke-a-Mole

Keytruda, can quake ya, ooh I wanna take ya
Intruduh, skin trauma, come on pretty mama
Opdivo, doc ego,
Baby why don't we go
Ooh I wanna take you down to Poke-a-Mole,
We'll get there fast
And then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go,
Way down in Poke-a-Mole.

Port’s all rinsed, I wanna scratch the PICC...

Everybody knows a little place like Poke-a-Mole
Now if you wanna go to get away from it all
Go down to Poke-a-Mole
Keytruda, can quake ya, ooh I wanna take ya
Intruduh, skin trauma, come on pretty mama
Opdivo, doc ego,
Baby why don't we go
Ooh I wanna take you down to Poke-a-Mole,
We'll get there fast
And then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go,
Way down in Poke-a-Mole.

Keytruda, can quake ya, ooh I wanna take ya
Intruduh, skin trauma, come on pretty mama
Opdivo, doc ego,
Baby why don't we go,
Fake-bake ya

Helpless

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

Leave us

Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless
Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless
Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless
Helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless