PUTTING THE ANCER IN CANCER

Had a doctor's appointment with an oncologist (that's a cancer specialist NOT someone who's just on call all the time, like I originally thought). The building was a little scuzzy - the type of place where all the bathroom doors are locked and you've got to ask for a key that ends up being taped to a pen or a spork or a giant clown shoe or something - and we waited just past an hour post appointment time before getting behind the giant wooden door that separates the lambs from the slaughter (you know the feeling when they call your name) before being shifted through three different doctors until they finally landed us on one that didn't have any information on us.

After he'd gathered our files and played 20 questions he quickly let us know that:

1. Surgery helped, but.....................................I still had cancer.

It. Had. Spread.

2. I now had Stage 2 cancer and he wanted me to start chemotherapy the following Wednesday......which as I write this, is actually today.

He also let us know that there are two different kinds of cancer - NON-SEMONOMA and SEMONOMA. I have NON-semonoma, which is the more aggressive of the two. From there, non-semonoma breaks down into a few different scattagories and, wouldn't ya know it? I HAVE THE MOST AGGRESSIVE VERSION OF THAT!!!

DING DING DING!!!! TELL HIM WHAT HE'S WON, JOHNNY!

.....but I just did - the sweet sweet gift of cancer. Oh, thanks Santa - coulda went for the lump of coal, but I guess this'll do just fine.


When people say, "I don't mean to keep kicking a dead horse......................................................" I'M THAT DEAD HORSE!!!! PLEASE STOP KICKING ME!

We had an appointment with our urologist the other day. He said my cancer markers BEFORE surgery were 32. POST surgery - 619. Today: 900.

This is a huge leap..........in the wrong direction. The doctor wanted me to go the hospital THAT DAY, get a catscan and see what it is we were dealing with.

Got checked in last night, got the scan and today they told us that the some "nodules" had shown up on my lungs.

Tumors.

On my lungs.

Lung cancer.


About two hours later I started chemo and am just currently finishing it up. Jade and I watch each drip-drop into the tube, down into my vein and talk about how each drop is me getting a little bit better.

So far I feel good. In fact, I feel great. GREAT. The doctors are all EXTREMELY adamant that this is going to deal with it. The chemo is going to eradicate this sunnabitch from my bod.



IN THE FUTURE THEY WILL SAY:

"CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY USED TO GIVE PEOPLE CHEMO??? They poison them to cure them - how savage! Luckily the scientists have found the cure for cancer in oil - TOO BAD WE USED IT ALL TO DRIVE AROUND OUR SUVs WITH ONLY ONE PERSON IN THE CAR AND NOW THE POLAR BEARS ARE ALL DEAD BECAUSE OF GLOBAL WARMING!!! YAAAAY!!! THE FUTURE REALLY IS A BRIGHTER PLACE - BUT ONLY BECAUSE THE ATMOSPHERE HAS FINALLY DISSOLVED AND THE SUN IS SHINING DIRECTLY ON OUR REDDENED, BURNT SKIN!!! YAAAAY FOR TECHNOLOGY!!! YAAAAY!!!"


I've got about nine weeks of this and then I'm like Fred f'ing Astaire, tap dancing and karate kicking my way back to work.


Oh, and lastly, wasn't there a movie we were making or something like that??? Oh yeah there was and we're still pressing forward with it.

YOU BEAR WITH US AND WE'LL SEE THIS THING TO THE END YET!!!

ROUND ONE.......DONE

Round one of chemo is complete.
Thank God.

Truth be told, it's not as bad as I was anticipating.....bed-ridden, vomit and diarrhea inducing, chills, fevers.....maybe some crying.....

It was all that, but not to the extreme I was thinking. Sort of like a flu.

I saw one of those posters in the hospital - it's a picture of a stream and it says, "In the battle between water and the rock, the water will always win. Not because of strength, but because of persistence."

After dealing with chemo for one day, I thought. No problem.

After dealing with the side effects for the seventh day today, I'm thinking.....nine more weeks? Perhaps it would be easier if I were to throw myself in front of a bus to save a small child........been hanging around the bus stop lately......waiting for some careless mother to come along....so far no luck.

Came home and laid in bed. Our cocker spaniel Clementine hopped over to me. I thought, "Yes, come here, Clementine. Give me some of that magic you have. Puppy dog tears and euphoric energy. Share it. Make me feel a little better, a little happier about all this."

She came over, pounced on my stomach and made me barf.

Not exactly what I had in mind but I did feel better later. Gotta keep our eyes peeled for the little miracles.

NO BALLS, NO LYMPH NODES

Had our follow up appointment this morning with Doctor Alan Yamada - the man that stole my heart and my ball.

It's Halloween so everyone in the office was dressed like somebody else.

Dorothy answered the window - it's a sliding glass set-up. She pulled it open and I said, "I'm here to see the wizard."

Behind her was Pippi Longstocking (maybe), an Asian Little Bo Pepe and the oldest woman I've ever seen Halloweening as a receptionist at a urology clinic.

So they called us in and we sat in his office forever and listened to him talk to other patients through the walls because they're so thin. He asked one guy, "How's that tube we put in working out for you?

Things could be worse. I could have "a tube".

Yamada (my doctor) came in and told us some of my test results were bad. See, after they pulled out the nut to end all nuts, they chopped it up - I mean puree, baby. Blender time. Made a paste outta it and did some tests. Tests came back bad. Bad like we need to either give me some chemo or do some more surgery and rip out my lymph nodes - shake em around in front of the other organs, scare them into cooperating.

Either one of those would do, he says, OR you can just wait to see if you die. He doesn't say it like that but he says it.

REALLY?

Choices, choices, choices......

We don't have to decide today. So what do we do? I don't know. YOU TELL ME.


Got some weird testosterone supplements too. He said I could either take

a.) an intramuscular shot everyday for the rest of my life - like, in my bicep or

b.) rub some gel on my shoulders every day for the rest of my life.

REALLY?

choices, choices, choices.....


Took the gel. He warned my child bride and I - he said, "Okay, don't "make love" after he's put this on" and I'm thinking, "make love"? Is THAT what it's called when I hit her repeatedly with the back of my shoe, screaming at her to stop talking to her mother on the phone and just lie there and be still and silent?

She can't touch me for a bit because, you know, we don't want the female half growing a mustache - they tickle. Plus I don't want to feel like some gay sailor while I'm "making love".

I'M LIKE THE BOY IN THE FREAKING PLASTIC BUBBLE! MY WIFE CAN'T TOUCH ME WHILE I'M "ACTIVE ON THE GEL" - MORE F'ING SURGERY! ARE YOU JOKING!!!!???? CAN I HAVE A BREAK???? CAN WE GET A BREAK??!!! WHAT GIVES??? MOTHER...................mother nature....sometimes it's healthy to shout, you know. Even if it does amount to nothing more than sitting silently, alone, on your couch and typing in all CAPS.


Before we leave the offices of Dr. Alan Yamada - collector of testes and vaginal reconstructer extraordinaire - we have to set up another appointment.

Little Bo Pepe and Mother Time are trying to figure it out. I don't know. It seemed very shady. When I came around the corner Bo was picking her nose and I'm thinking.....what am I thinking? What do I say to that? I hope she's not eating out of the public peanut and candy corn dish I'm trying not to snack casually out of.

So Oldest Lady on Earth and Bo Pepe - they're trying to pencil us in, but they've got to write down some doctor code on this sheet for us to take to the place where I need to get my blood drawn and they've got to get the info from the sheet the doctor wrote on, but they can't read the doctor's handwriting so they're both staring at it going, "S......P.........M?" Really slowly spelling out the word, y'know?

So I go, "Can I get the origin of the word?" A little spelling bee humor.

Pepe eats another booger and scribbles something down then looks at us and goes, "Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing."

Really? I'd feel more comfortable if you just lied to me.

Afterward we went to the mall and did some therapy shopping. I bought two pairs of shoes, a hat, two scarves, a pair of earrings and a pretzel - OH MY GOSH, I'M GOING GAY!!!

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!