A Decidedly Non-Creepy Photo of the Seasonal Icon and How Great I Feel About It

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I sincerely hope everyone around the world looked skyward at some point and felt connected and generous of spirit in whatever religion you practice.   I will temper last weeks' adventure-into-creepyville with something really festive that marks the season!

These are not microscopic images of blood, like Patient Spouse thinks they more closely resemble than what they actually are, sugarplums.  Whether or not they're real is of no importance:  they look real and that's what counts!  They look exactly like they're supposed to, like you imagined them, plums coated in clouds of sugar dust.  Iced and juicy.  Images of them could dance in your head!

Being cancer-free (but Wheelchair Bound) I've experienced everything terrifying and wonderful every second we have on this planet has to offer.  I've spent years trapped inside my own mind (I'm fortunate there's a lot of room in there to wander around) and come to the conclusion I'm very lucky to be alive at all (Thank you, Hamid!) and by continuing to live I have an intrinsic responsibility to record my journey on life's highway, no matter where it goes or how long it takes (Thank you!, Dr. P.)

December, 2014 is a month like almost any other for me since 2011.  The world is washed in silver, blue and gold.  Everything and everyone has a rose-colored tint.  Every day feels like a holiday!  Every Day!  Every day I'm grateful to be on the right side of the dirt, I celebrate being alive every day!  I am grateful for the unwavering support of PS and my family.  For the first time in my life I am drawn down a path (or up a mountain?) to go off a cliff?  Nah!  Every day does feel like 12/25 though!  Every new day is a gift!  For the first time I know what I'm supposed to do and I'm doing it!

Christmas Spider? Only In Germany! Anywhere Else We'd Be Looking For A Shoe! To Squish It! (If There Was Any Question, Spiders Are Vermin!)

Hello Travelers!

Hel loo!  Christmas trees needing spiders?  Where's the can of "Raid"?  "Happy Spiders?"   Can you say "Black Flag"?  The only good spider is a dead spider.  I don't care how "happy" they are!  Santa doesn't care either.  I asked him.  Santa's way too busy with the kids to worry about spider happiness!  This is just a great argument for artificial trees.  No dirt, no bugs.  American.  Made by Americans for Americans.

As everyone knows, tinsel on trees came from smokers not knowing where to put the skinny wrapper seal that is the first wrapper to come off a new pack of cigarettes. American cigarettes.  Since no one in California has ever smoked we don't need spider/tree mythology to explain away tacky tinsel.  And as the rest of the world quits smoking, tinsel use will hopefully diminish across the globe.  I have never used tinsel and I don't know anyone who does.  I have, however used the Fall Issue (over 700 pages!) of "In Style", various heavy shoes (and boots), and hairsprays to eradicate the arachnids.

Gotta love those Germans though, creeping me out at Christmastime!  I didn't think it could be done! Since 2011,  I'm fairly unflappable,and a happy camper,  generally speaking, but picturing the eight-legged web-spinners running up and down the tree gave me the "heeby jeebies"!  Ick!  I love fake trees!  I hadn't considered infestation and small travelers on the tree!  Another crisis narrowly averted.  Thank you Germany!  It's just weird enough...

Sugarplums? And "Big Ass Spiders" It Must Be Christmastime!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

No kidding!  It was on Animal Planet, too!  Designed to attract the elusive MTV market?  Go big or go home?  Ratings grabber?  Definitely.  I just thought ""Big A__ Spiders" was a bold statement.  Even for today's youth.

I've made no secret about my aversion to arachnids:  me and the spiders of the world are in a  USA/U.S.S.R. state of detente circa 1982:  If I don't see them, I'm not forced to kill them.  As with all unpleasant images, if they're in my line of vision I remove the image, turn off the TV, kill the spider (or complain until Patient Spouse dispatches it), close the computer.  There, problem solved!

It's a pretty common phobia, as phobias go, and like so many other things in life, it just is.   There is no logical explanation for a phobia they just are.  I've dealt with mine over the years and managed to contain it, but occasionally PS still likes to test my "ick" response for fun.  His fun.  What does he do since I've condemned every visible arachnid in a ten mile radius to an "In Style" death?(An "In Style" death, by the way, is when you roll up an "In Style" and squash a bug with it.  Nothing "stylish" about it!)  He pulls up "VS" on the laptop.  "VS", you know "Black Widow vs. Scorpion" (Black Widow), "Tarantula vs. Black Widow" (Black Widow, again)  "Fire Ants vs. Black Widow"  (Ants are relentless! And there's zillions of them!)  Bugs fighting to the death!  In jars!  Online!  It's just such a guy thing!  Ick!

Of course I watched, I couldn't help myself!  You would too!  Nothing says "Christmas" like the British!  And no food is as British as the plum.  Think about it!  Plum pudding, Little Jack Horner, The "Sugarplum Fairy".  I used to be a foodie, what exactly is a "sugarplum" anyway?  They sound good but has anyone actually seen one?

And pies.  When the English don't know what to do with something they stick it in a pie crust!  Kidneys, four and twenty blackbirds, plums and Lord knows what else.  Who can forget "Sweeney Todd"?  People pies!  Talk about "repurposing"!  Pie crust covers a lot but doesn't cover murder, for long anyway!  Even if the killer is Johnny Depp and the piebaker in question is Helena Bonham-Carter.  Sheesh!  I like my pies fruity and non-mysterious!  Like I like my gingerbread men!  It always gets back to cookies!  Merry Christmas, Travelers!

The British are renowned for many things cuisine not being among them

Autumn is the "Black Hole" of Seasons! Thank Goodness for Christmas!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

There are just a few things I actively dislike.  Being chilly or cold is at the top of the list.  I couldn't survive in Fargo or Chicago or the Twin Cities.  I grew up in a dry, warm climate and have spent my adult life in a slightly cooler, slightly wetter environment.  My favorite season is summer just as my least favorite season is Autumn.  Accordingly, I've updated my profile pic to reflect the dread that only Fall can bring!  Winter means snow and The Holidays, (and cookies!), but all autumn means is that summer is gone and winter is coming!  And lots of wind! And possibly rain, cold rain! Bleah!

The Intrepid Tearose (it just keeps growing!) Facing The Dark Clouds of Autumn!  Brrrr!

 This picture illustrates the pathos of the season (Baby, it's cold outside!) contrasted with the tenacity of the tearose; much like myself, it just keeps coming back!  I have a cousin who posted a cute still of "The Abominable Snowmonster" (he's white and blue with googly eyes, very unscary!), as his "Profile Pic".  Seeing that old picture from "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" took me right back to the Island of Misfit Toys, and a North Pole where the snowmen sang and played the banjo!(And just what were those Rankin/Bass characters, anyway?  Muppets?  Puppets?  Animetronics from the Far East?  Who knows?)  And all Santa does all year is get ready for the big ride and worry about the weather.  All Mrs. Claus does is worry about fattening up Santa for the big ride.  Just the way imaginary holiday characters (and Madison Avenue) intended!

Anyway, like when the Grinch (the real animated one that Dr, Seuss drew, with Boris Karloff not a lame 2-hour movie with Jim Carrey and a bunch of even lamer backstories, anyone remember Cindy Lou Who?  I rest my case!) and Charlie Brown had their respective disastrous holiday specials when Santa stopped at The Island of Misfit Toys on his way to the rest of the world I knew the Holiday Season was officially under way.  "The Bumble", as Yukon Cornelius refers to him by the end of the story (Spoiler Alert!) is a Christmas convert without a growl (or a tooth) for anyone!  I salute my cousin Kirk for resurrecting that memory for me!  For years I identified with The Grinch, but in truth I love Christmas, the winter, Santa, gifts, trees, icicles, ornaments, lights.  It's all great and there's no such thing as an ugly Christmas sweater!

And it's the best time of year for cookies!  Or pretty much anything involving sugar!  Christmastime is an open invitation to explore the sweeter side of the spectrum. Starbuck's has their weird holiday flavors like Pumpkin and Mint Chocolate Chip.  Desserts are practically mandatory!  So there's that.  I'll keep looking forward to winter.  Autumn is still a little too hinkey for me.  I'm still trying to learn the history of "America's Game", "The Boys of Summer",and if the Giants make it to the Playoffs my dance card will be full!

USA! USA! USA! Peaceful Protests and Bad Beer - What A Great Country!

Hello Fellow Travelers and Happy Thanksgiving!

I have to take pause here and marvel at this great nation some of us call home.  Being "mobility challenged" (wheelchair bound), I watch a lot of CNN.  I'm often with Wolf in "The Situation Room", or I'm paying rapt attention to whatever "The Silver Fox" (Anderson Cooper) is exposing on "AC 360".  So I was very aware, nay, overly informed of the circumstances that led up to the decision by a grand jury in Ferguson, Missouri not to indict the police officer who admittedly killed an unarmed teenager.

Yes, there was mayhem in Ferguson, but from coast to coast in most major cities there were peaceful protests going on!  Young people, takin' it to the streets and not setting fires!  Some talking head on CNN suggested that the "younger" political voters were done with racism and violence.  I applaud that notion!  What  great idea!  Democracy in action, it's a beautiful thing!

The idea that the younger (post 1980's) voters are more global, have little tolerance and even less patience for racism in any guise, is an idea whose time has come.  I love this "legal rebellion", "peaceful protesting" is what our nation was founded on!  That it worked so well nationwide is nothing less than wonderful!  Looting and burning are not only destructive, they are also illegal, looting and burning are crimes.  And outside of Ferguson, MO itself, it largely didn't happen.  The younger kids grew up in a blended society, like the American Mafia racism sounds outdated, antiquated.  Maybe by using the "system" the way it was designed, the protesters can march and they will get the changes they demand to even the playing field politically.

Peaceful marching going on worldwide in response to a perceived injustice in one country isn't a crime - it might be a mandate for change.  A new and better way of reacting to unpopular news.  A reaction that could change how decisions are made.

One less thing to fight about.  One struggle done.  History.  Like the Civil War.

PS - I would be remiss if I didn't comment on Budweiser's decision to exchange the Clydesdales for something more "youth-oriented".  I liked those holiday horsies!  All the exchanging on the planet won't cover up the basic fact, the bottom line:  Bud sucks!  It's a Geico commercial:  "Everybody knows that!".  Budweiser is terrible.  Bud light?  Bad Light!  Bud Chrome?  Or Ultra or whatever?  96 More Reasons to Loathe Anheiser/Busch!  So I think removing the equines exposes the lager to scrutiny and who doesn't like a pony during the holidays, anyway?

Guess What Really Inspired Me To Perform This Week? Surprise! Our Cat!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

As usual, I was all set to offer my keen insight on something important (this week:  Nazis in "Captain America":  Really evil or just really good special effects?) and then this happened:  Our cat, Isobel became really sick, really fast.  The last time we took her to the vet, there was nothing wrong and we spent nearly $500 to be told there was nothing wrong with her so when she began sneezing early in the week we didn't panic at first.  As the week wore on her sneezes became much more frequent until both her nose and eyes were streaming and my PS took a predictably Darwinian approach to her illness: she'd either recover or she wouldn't.

I am completely incapable of doing anything to impact the situation so I didn't say anything, I rescued Isobel from certain death (the pound) but she belongs primarily to PS who loves her, although he won't admit it.  She's been a good kitty, and a great pet to the men so to see her sneezing, then refusing to eat altogether was bizarre.  As you know, I have my hands full, juggling chainsaws.  Sick cats are way beyond my scope these days, like operating heavy machinery or riding a bike, I can't do those things either, yet.

So, I watched and waited as our small, grey, cat mirrored my own journey trajectory.  She sat very still for long periods of time, she seemed to brace herself for some unseen assailant who repeatedly assaulted her.  And then she'd break into uncontrollable sneezing spasms that racked her small frame.

By the third day, she was buried in my shoes (most of which I'll never wear again), and I was mentally preparing what I was going to say to my son when we put her down.

On the fourth day, (today) Isobel ate a bunch of food, drank a bunch of water and meowed, plaintively.  She got better!  No one-way ticket to the old "Pet Sematery"!  Way to go, cat!  Is it a miracle?  Is it science?   9 Lives? I only have one question, the only one that matters.  Say it with me, "Is it cancer?  No?  Then who cares? " Or:  "Is there a Kardashian involved?  No? Then who really cares?"

I'll take inspiration anywhere I can find it and our little, gray cat is truly inspiring.  She never complained, she just put her furry head down and got through whatever "it" was.  No question about it, she "shook it off", weathered the storm, fought her way through.

And nobody squished her into her cat carrier either.


PS- In my neverending search (and discovery) for all things ridiculous, I inevitably came across the final incarnation, the denouement, if you will, of naked television.  For your viewing pleasure, on the Discovery Channel:  "Dude, Your Screwed!"  It's full of naked, dirty people and is, what I hope, is the end of the road for this particular genre.  And no, I have not watched it.  I'm all about the words and the title is enough for me.  One has to wonder though, what exactly gets "discovered" on the "Discovery Channel", anyway?  Gold?  Bigfoot?  Stinky, naked, people?  What?  Ohhh, I get it, snow!  Lots and lots of snow!

"A Beautiful Macaroon" Get It? It's a Cookie!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Today I'm going to wax "on" (and on) about two things I adore:  Alfred Hitchcock movies of the 50's and macaroons that are perfection.  So if this is too feminine for you, too fey (and I don't mean Tina) step off!  Cause, here I go!

One of the strangest effects that has changed me irrevocably since 2011 is my ferocious sweet tooth.  It's really unusual since I spent my entire pre-brain surgery life avoiding sugars and desserts altogether.  In 2012 my Patient Spouse made me cookies and occasionally brought me hard candy.  After a painful visit or two to the dentist (a lifetime of perfect dental reports ruined in one year!), PS quit bringing me candy.

I subsequently lost most of my interest (and all my ability) in consuming anything salty or snacky.  My longing for perfect desserts goes on unabated.  I stopped any alcohol consumption years ago.  I think a lot about Kahlua and Amaretto now in terms of how they would taste in a cookie!

Cookies just make everything more fun!  I shared this thought with my best friend who had been inventing cookies in her kitchen to suit my very particular flavor profiles and then I had an idea that originated with a computer game her son had invented and we played!  The name of the game is Hop Away: Never Smore, so my friend humored me by looking for a smore recipe in a cookie.  The closest she came was finding a smore flavored macaroon.

One day recently the UPS guy delivered a box that was packed with a red, zippered cooler, ice, tissue, and a pink box containing the most beautiful, perfect macaroons on the planet.  This was truly something Grace Kelly would have had delivered to Jimmy Stewart in "Rear Window".  My friend's point (and mine too) is that we could spend all year trying to replicate these delicate masterpieces and never come close.  There is, however, a baker in Beverly Hills who can make an entire rainbow of these amazing confections and they deliver!

PS - No, I have nothing to say about "the butt that broke the internet".  And no, I don't live under a rock.  (Well, maybe I do and maybe I don't but I still have nothing to say!

"Plan B"? I Don't Have One! Plan A MUST Work!

Hello fellow travelers!

I get asked occasionally (OK, I'll admit after almost four years and a lot of work and a lot of deprivation, I'm starting to wonder, but then I feel really good and forget all about it.) when this neuroplasticity is supposed to kick in.  Pretty soon, I hope.  I have all kinds of newly developed muscles being trained to make new connections in the brain.  What I don't have is a "Plan B", in case "Plan A" doesn't work.  You know, "There's always Plan B"?  Well, I don't have one!  I am feeling my way through the morass the best I can, retreat is not an option!

I start out these adventures humming, "Onward Christian Soldiers" but inevitably end up with Kiss's "Dr. Love" or something equally musicless stuck in my noggin on a loop.  "Plan A"?  "Plan B"?  Who has time?  The Nazis!  That's who!  The Nazis had all kinds of plans!  All bad!  And they were German.  Germans like to make extensive plans.

In my particular case this is the life/death struggle.  I am in the fight.  My neurosurgeon won the first round (Thank you! Dr. Aliabadi!) but the rest of it is up to me!  So "Plan A" has to work!  "Plan B" means death so forget that!  I only have a "Plan A" (and believe me when I say it's not much of a "plan", it's more like a hastily assembled bunch of "extreme" coping skills)

I tease a physician friend of mine that I'm a "patient of the future".  And I'm only partly kidding because I am not reacting to this "condition" the way a lot of patients might,  I'll never stop looking for answers I'll never stop fighting an unecessarily early demise, I was made for this.  I'm not satisfied with anything offered to current patients.  Scooters and catheters?  Yuk!  Motorized conveyances that cart your carcass ever-so-slowly up the staircase?  Double Yuk!

The only answer for me is to continue to stretch and search for some kind of solution.  One of the qualities that separates me from the average patient (if there is such a thing) is that I have no expectation that I will be the same as before the surgery.  I have every expectation if I work hard enough, long enough I will keep changing into what I'm supposed to be.  So "Plan A All the Way!"  "A" is "American".  "B" is for "Bruges" or "Belgium", either way "A" is better.  So let's go with that!

"Naked Coffee"? Really? I Just Can't! It's Just Wrong!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I had a riveting cancer topic (Zombies:  Maybe they're just not "morning people") and then this happened:

Naked coffee?  Seems counterintuitive.  Sounds highly risky, ill-advised at best.  Naked coffee?  Why?  There's even a picture!  A drawing!  Sexy?  Nahh.  Scary?  A little!  If you need coffee so badly you're willing to drink it in the nude, maybe you have a problem.

There is just no compelling reason to hold a hot cup of joe (who is Joe, anyway?  Montana?  DiMaggio?  Mr. Coffee?) near any uncovered skin.

I love coffee, the more convoluted, the better!  Whip it, flip it, put some sparkly stuff on top, infuse it, artificially flavor it, it's all good to me.  I actually look forward to the seasonal offerings from Starbucks.  More whipped whatever?  Sure!  At home I adhere to an austere combination I never deviate from, but if a barrista is making it?  The more crazy and decadent it is, the better I like it!  It's hot.  It's supposed to be.  How does that ad go?  "Everybody knows that."  Well, everybody knows coffee is hot.  So is mocha.  Even cappucino is served with a sleeve.  No mystery there.  How on earth could consuming a steaming beverage sans clothing be beneficial to anyone?  It can't!

I realize that "naked" is popular right now. But the word "naked" is significantly more interesting than the "afraid/daters/real estate buyers/real estate sellers"  Like inserting cookie in front of some words just doesn't necessarily enhance those words (like naked, another burn scenario, yuk!) and putting naked in front of every word doesn't work either.  So just knock it off already!

PS- The Giants.  I knew they would take the trophy since last spring, I have no idea why I knew but I did.  This in no way benefits me personally, it's just another odd event along this strange highway.

What What Do the 2014 S.F. Giants and Cockroaches and Tearoses Have In Common? They Won't Go Away!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I would be completely remiss if I didn't address one area of interest that has completely captured my attention these past three years; Baseball!  I credit this game for keeping me sunny side up during what could have been a very dark time.  Patient Spouse has tried to instill Baseball's sense of scope and history in me for years but it required a brain tumor (and Ken Burns) to really make me appreciate "the game within the game" since 2011.

My PS, his father, my father and most men I knew and knew of could all speak "baseball".  It seemed to me that certain men extrapolated baseball statistics the way I could remember the closing theme to "The Beverly Hillbillies" and for some reason could detail the romantic backstory of just about any actor anywhere.  It just stuck in my brain , I never claimed it was very useful information!  It's just information that was stuck in my head.  I was a pop culture Wikipedia before there was Wikipedia.  Now whenever we have some obscure question about entertainment, we just Google it like anyone else, but my brain has an unfortunately limitless capacity for retaining popular trivia.   Before there was Wendy Williams there was me.  PS still checks with me to confirm or deny minutae in the culture.  I, of course, use my trivial powers for even more trivial tasks (The Kardashians aren't losing a lot of sleep worrying about my uncovering a possible buttectomy (that's when your rear is surgically altered) There's no denying my vast grasp of all things trivial.  If it's meaningless and you have a question about it I probably know the answer.  Or I know someone I can ask.  There's no denying this power.  It just is.  Baseball just is.  On the surface it just seems like an easy way to spend an afternoon.

It's simplicity masks an elegance that is as hard to capture as lightning in a bottle.  Baseball is accessible to anyone.  Baseball doesn't care how old you are, how your health is or where you come from.  A great play is poetry!  If you can talk baseball, you can carry on a conversation with anyone else who watches the game.

Specifically, my trials and tribulations in brain tumor mania (This Sunday at the Cow Palace; Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!) paralleled the yearly (2014) journey of the San Francisco Giants who manage much like myself to somehow stay alive and not only survive but thrive.  Is it adversity that makes them stronger?  Or is it because they are stronger they crush adversity?  I submit my one question, the only one that matters:  Is it cancer?  No?  Then who really cares?  Bruce Bochy?  I don't think so.  Joe Montana?  I really don't think so.

Three of my in-laws were at Game #3, and I wish we could have gone too!  I love that ballpark and Giants' fans are almost as entertaining to watch as the Boys of Summer themselves.  AT&T Ballpark is just a joy to go to all the seats are good and all the food is great!  So it's great to be a convert!  While my father, PS's father and my PS himself have probably forgotten more about America's Pastime than I'll ever know it's great to know the game welcomes new fans!  No matter how late in "the game" you decide to show up, you can still be a part of it.

Will they win Game #4?  I direct you to my original question:  Are you serious?  Of course, they're going to win!  Haven't you been watching?

Ventilator-Malfunction or "How I Started this Adventure Back in 2011"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

In the continued interest of remaining connected to all things healthy and hilarious I have to recount the dramatic "beginning" of this journey, the part where I was the least involved (I was in a chemically induced coma) but I still managed to scare the hell out of everybody in the Intensive Care Unit!  My Patient Spouse (PS) and Best Friend (BF) were sitting on vigil with a member of the surgical team at the hospital who was hooking me up to the portable breathing machine, which they were especially proud of because one of their doctors invented it!  So the way PS tells it, after I'm hooked up for transport just my PS and BF and me (on a ventilator keeping my own counsel) are left in the room.  Soon, my giant, tumor would be removed and all kinds of real estate in my brain would become available, just then though, The Reaper was really close to me and, as near as I could tell, he meant business.  And apparently, at exactly the same time I noticed "The Reaper" the nifty port-o-ventilator stopped cold.  PS looked at BF and BF looked at PS.

Without too many seconds going by, PS flagged a medical professional and breathing was restored!  The old fashioned way, manually!

I haven't "heard" the story from my girlfriend but whenever PS relates any part of my intubation-malfunction he doesn't seem nearly as amused as I am!  Portable breathing machines are only "medical miracles" when they work!  When they skip a beat or stop?  Not so miraculous!  Though I am like the tearose, the SF Giants and infestations in general - I just keep coming back.

Bill Murray (back in "Stripes" days) would have called me "a mutant" and he'd have been right!  I'm  mutant and proud of it!  I'm alive!  Because that's all that's important!  Nothing else matters or will.  I believe I lived for the express purpose of chronicling this adventure through "Tumor Town".

Why I'm "the patient of the future"?  I am in great physical condition.  I am, believe it or not, young for a typical patient, I'm pretty healthy and live like a monk.  I have bent pain and paralysis to my will.  I am supposed to go forward.  Give me a cookie (or 10) and I'll be on my way!

PS - In the "This Crap Just Writes Itself" column; did you see/hear the news about the Carnival Cruise that has an E Bola patient?  Belize and Mexico wouldn't allow the ship to dock.  Belize and Mexico!  Wake up cruisers!  It doesn't matter how many times they disinfect those staterooms!  Those "ships" (Germ Infested Barges, GIBs) are floating around the Gulf like cigarette butts floating around a toilet bowl!  At $1,000+ a throw!  I'd need a HazMat suit to get a waffle!  They're floating petrie dishes!  It's like saving 15% on insurance:  everybody knows that!  Everybody should!

Brittany Maynard Suicide on 11/1?: "Death with Dignity" or Terminal Quitter?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Well, it finally happened.  A real news item intersected with Brain Cancer and now it's blowing up all over the world and everyone is asking me what I think and would I do the same.  Death, The big "dirt nap".  Only time is as inescapable.  Brittany Maynard is a lovely 29 year old who was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and has chosen to die on her own terms in Oregon, where it is not against the law to plan  your own death.  She was faced with a grim oh-so-short future and she made a decision.  Would I make a similar choice?  Frankly, no, but I have been in many ways greatly improved and tested, by my tumor and feel like  nothing can stop me!  I would know to leave her alone
My world was forever reshaped by cancer.  Remember "All t\he King's Horse's and All the King's Men"?  Well, they couldn't put old Humpty back together (and just what EMT Training did these equines and representatives of the Crown have, anyway?  I always ask when I'm scrambled next to fencing.  Is it too much to ask for a second opinion? Some Tobasco would be nice!)

Now all kidding aside Travelers I don't waste a millesecond lamenting about drama, medical or personal.  It's like plastic surgery it  sounds like a good idea but ultimately it will not only not improve a situation but plastic surgery could generate it's own set of problems.

I always start off with the same salutation, "Hello Fellow Travelers!" Because we're all travelers on the big journey called, "life"!  Everyone has their own path to navigate,  I respect that.  My journey is still unfolding.  I can't imagine the couple who moves out of their state to have access to better Health Options.  But, this is from a woman who is mostly silent.

This is my journey and mine alone.  I have never felt more alive, (Thank You! HA!)  I'm ready to take as many MRI's as they need (Thank you! Dr. Phoenix!) and I'll never stop looking for answers.  This is the time.  "Death with Dignity"? (What does that even mean?  Because the last time I checked, "Death" was still, oh, I don't know, dead.)  And to quote Charlie Brown-San in "Kill Bill #1","No, I don't think I'd like that!"

CB might be the master of the subtitled understatement, but it's my opinion of a great many things.   Like the void of neat stuff to buy past the age of 40.  It's as though after 45 all marketing dwindles to a upright bathtubs and little scooters that go very slowly.

To use another great quote, "This simply won't do!", Hannibal Lecter, "Silence of the Lambs"  So get me some cookies and a big pot of coffee it's going to be a long night!


In the crazy, spinning world  I live in, feeling terrific gives me the strength to face the "the big issues" I deal with, daily.  Cookies help too!

Pulmonary Crisis or Neuro No Brainer? Both?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

As usual, I came up with a cancer related topic (This week:  Brain Tumors and  Eva Braun.  I mean what other explanation could there be?  Hitler's girlfriend?  Clearly, to be known for all time as the "main squeeze" of possibly the worst mass murderer in history required some really poor judgement calls. )   She must have had some brain disorder, she was really into Adolph, too, something was wrong with her!  I'm just saying... 

Anyway, I was all set to go when this happened: At some point I collapsed, passed out.  My son found me and called 911.  When I came to I was covered in new cuts and bruises with no memory of getting them.

I had far too  much C02 (what your body expels when you breathe) in my blood and I was poisoned.  I woke up in an ambulance where I immediately and correctly answered several questions.  When I arrived at the hospital, the fun really got started, because a search of my home (and of my blood) revealed that I took nothing, drank nothing, haven't in years, and was exceptionally healthy.


For the next week, the valiant staff of Diggity Health (Hot Diggity!), took my blood repeatedly (and literally) ran all kinds of tests, waited for and received all negative results,  administered some other tests and received the same result.  I got the distinct impression that the doctor attempting to solve this mystery, ("why did Jan fall?  This time?")  Dr. Randy Arai (forever lodged in MY head as "Dr. Pulmonary"), had run every test on me he could think of.

At the end of Friday Dr. Pulmonary admitted that he didn't have a freaking clue why I passed out. That's a direct quote too. Not a "freakin clue!"  I loved it! I laughed pretty heartedly at that but it does beg the question, what if this happens again?  I have enough to deal with.  I'm a woman who needs answers!  STAT!  I have no idea what STAT even is but I always wanted to say it!  Dr. Pulmonary suggested bringing an endocrinologist into the loop.  I'm not even sure what that is!  OK, I looked briefly into endocrines, let's order one up!

What I did understand was bad food and PT (Physical Therapy) both of which appeared (3) times a day like clockwork.  I love everything about therapy and I never, ever eat bad food.  I make fun out of bad food and let me tell you, as far as bad-food comedy goes the hospital is a veritable cornucopia.  It gives new meaning to the term "yuk fest"  Hospital food is the Toronto Mayor of jokes:  it's the gift that keeps on giving.  I have a really discriminating palate, I'm highly attuned to pointing out any culinary mediocrity.  Commenting about crappy food?  Really? This is what I was meant for!

By the second evening the nurses were just "showing" me the plates.  The Ensure bottles were looking pretty good!  I'd rather not eat than eat something I actively dislike.  As far as any kind of PT?  Bring it!  I received (and continue to receive) compliments on my increasing muscle tone and strength, thanks to Bridgit's killer balancing exercises (thank you Ms. Moore!).

You know what happens when eating is really difficult and the food available is really unappealing?  I just don't eat!  I write more but I don't think eating for the sake of eating serves any purpose!  But what has struck me the most is how closely my actual adventures are mirroring my desired ones.  I really want my PS and son to take a trip.  I want to go to a hospital and focus solely on my restart, rehab, whatever.  It's time!  I don't care if I eat,  I'll sleep when I'm dead, I don't need a vacation.  I need to walk and all the food in all the hospitals in America won't make me walk again!

But walk again I will.  Ms. Moore and my Patient Spouse will see to that!  I will do whatever is necessary and when I fight my way up the hill just to discover a bunch of slow, motorized scooters and little chairs that creep up the hallway ever so slowly, and instantly diminish the value of your home, I'll write about that too because it's BS!

Hopefully, there is something out there that will allow me to get from point (a) to point (b).  I'll never stop looking for a solution.  So do your worst!  Serve me some "green" beans fried with jalapeno slices (yes, I said jalapeno slices.  That's beyond lazy - those two items together are just wrong (and gray).  Yet, there they were!)  I have impeccable tastes and no appetite.  I've lost all interest in antiques.  I'm only interested in things that work or look like they work or at least don't collect dust.  I no longer collect or save anything except stuff for kids.

All shapes I now find appealing (food/cars/housing) are round or oval (cookies/new Mercedes/beach houses), no straight edges I can cut myself on, no corners to collect dust.

The only decor items I look at are modern and streamlined.  I am the "Patient of the Future", this isn't the end of the road for me it's somewhere in the middle of a very big adventure.  Thanks to a few friends, HA, MEB, & Paul (NOT McCartney!), I am figuring this out.  I may have "lost my place is space", as one neuropsychologist expressed it, but I'm finding a better one.

Another Tedious Side Effect of Cancer? Just Another Log O' Stress in that Big Bonfire in the Sky!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Once again I had a great cancer-relevant topic all ready to go (This week:  Brain Tumors & Brain Surgeons-like Peanut Butter and Chocolate!  The Halloween Edition) and then this happened:  I caught a rare glimpse of the back of my upper legs that have been exercised, daily, for years, and I got another "shock of my life".  To wit, my legs appeared to be trying to escape from a small "sea of skin" and it's nothing anybody needs to see! Ever! Heck, it gives me the willies just telling you about it!  I had just sent my first WTH?  to my "glam squad" (well  really it's only one person but she's really glamorous!  She is a squad!)

Before she or anyone could respond I morphed again!  Weird skin, gone!  Weirder muscles, developed and pronounced!  Could the elusive "neuroplasticity'' be far behind?  I hope not.  Now that I finally see results I'm more motivated than ever to follow through.  I wasn't kidding about not having a "Plan B".  I barely have a "Plan A"    When you change greatly from day to day, you do begin to be prepared for anything, or think you need to be.  Frogs falling from the sky?  Sure.  Saw it in a movie . It could happen.  In SoCal!  Brain cancer?  Bring it!  MRI?  Nahhh, too scary!

I feel like I should be wearing armor and a shield,  every time I step out of bed!  Who knows what the day might bring; Mayhem, bad hair, bad cookies (no such thing, the only bad cookies are great cookies behaving badly, like if a cookie started cooking methamphetamine, like if an Oreo went all Heisenberg on you.  Pretty silly!  Would never happen!  But then if you told me back in 2011 that I'd still be in a wheelchair in 2014 I probably would have sneered something to the effect of "Run, run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" So what do I know?) You name it, I'll just try to be ready for it.

Intense "sit-bones" therapy?  Ready!  Angry Korean Water Spirit from "The Ring"?  Ready!  Focusing both eyes on the same spot?  I'm on it!  Stabbing a zombie so you don't waste a bullet on it (yes, they move that slowly!)?  I'm all over it!  You have to be ready for anything.  Because anything can and will happen! Count on it!

A couple of weeks ago the only "ISIS" I knew was a very fictional company from a very fictional animated comedy series!  Now, the whole world is figuratively "mounting up" to go "take care of them".  My cookie-baking-law-writing-best-friendo thinks she and I should saddle up, arm up (her husband has always believed in safe gun-ownership - and gun safes) and going to Iraq or wherever, "Thelma & Louise" style!  See?  Anything can happen.  Anything!

I'd Eat a Bug If I Could Walk, Or At Least Some Canned Vegetables!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was all set to take on a big think-piece on something cancer-related (This week cookie cancer.  Decidedly not "funner".  Completely disproves my theory about putting the word cookie in front of any word, making it "funner".  It works on almost any word.  Some words are just too icky!)  Then this happened:  I was popping off, as I often do about my son's 9th Grade reading assignment:  John Steinbeck's "Of Mice & Men", or how I might of titled it: "Two Hobos Dreaming About Ketchup" or "Homeless Dudes Fantasizing About Baked Beans!  In cans!"  Yuck!  Then I was asked the following snarky question:  Would I eat the legumes in cans if it meant I would walk?  I detest ketchup and baked beans and canned foods in general.  It's a silly question, in general and really silly for me in particular (the unequivocal answer would be "Of course, every day and twice on Sundays!) but it got me thinking, what wouldn't I do to walk?  I voluntarily had a shunt placed permanently in my brain on the off chance it might help!  It didn't.  But it's one more thing I can check off my list!  Who does that?

I'll tell you who, someone who is so desperate for any improvement that drilling another hole into my cranium starts to make a lot of sense!  "Sounds good, let's try that!"  Any other time "cranium" and "drilling" would be bad ideas!  I feel so great that everything sounds like a great idea! Rainbows?  Uzis? Ketchup?  Unicorns?  Baked Beans?  Why not?  It's all good (Thank you, Hamid!)

Remember Cal Worthington and his "dog, Spot"?  I'm like the late, great, Mr. Worthington, I would eat a bug or stand on my head (with a lot of help) to walk.  What I have to do to get there doesn't matter one iota to me.

According to PBS, FDR never let himself be photographed in a wheelchair, so the public never knew that he was for all intensive purposes, paralyzed from 1921 to the end of his life.  That charade carried him through three terms during the "Great Depression".

So my search for an answer continues.  And my unparalleled hatred of wheelchairs also continues.  Go see Cal, Go See Cal, Go See Cal!  Kinda catchy!

PS. Did anybody see last week's "Naked & Afraid"?  Those two just flat out didn't like each other!
Awkward!

The Inevitable Passage of Time - Measured In "Dog" Years! Or More "Travels with Charlie"

New Charlie (2014)

Hello Fellow Travelers!

My younger niece recently obtained a shih-tzu puppy she named Charlie.  The "old" Charlie was a cockapoo that belonged to my parents.  The original  Charlie was great with kids and inserted himself in every "child" situation.  My father's understanding of the canine brain was as pragmatic as it was insightful, "He hung around kids because they were the most likely to drop food!"

Kiddies Watched Over by "Old" Charlie (2003)

Whatever his true motive, he was a fine dog especially around kids!  He was in almost every child photo during his lifetime and he has the same expression on his furry face in every photo:  The look that says, "Are you done with that?"  "Are you going to drop it?"  "Would it be OK if I licked it, like this?"  Hey, he was a dog!  Really!  Not a man that acted like a dog but, in fact, an actual canine.  He probably sniffed other dogs with the same expression of concern on his furry face.  ("Are you done with that?"  "Too bad, I'm taking it!")

I fully expect the "new" Charlie to be as singularly motivated.  He's supercute but he is a doggy, a drop-kick piece of fluff doggy, but a descendant of the wolf nonetheless.  Weren't Shih tzus bred to be guard dogs in Imperial China?  What, exactly did they guard against?  Over-zealous imperial stylists?  Extreme decorators?  It's just hard to imagine any circumstance where any encounter with these little dogs isn't met with an, "Awwww!  He's just so cute!"

Shih tzus are the cookies of dogs!  They don't inspire fear!  They inspire "Awe"!  (As in,"Awwww, isn't he adorable?")  They make everybody happy!  Damage?  Who cares?  They're just so darned cute!  Look at that face!  Who could stay mad at that face?  Didn't China come up with opium too?   Cute puppies and poppies!  And fireworks!  And pasta and silk!  All the good stuff comes from China!

And, before anyone suggests it I will not be nor am I in favor of shipping cute-as-a-button puppies to Iraq to battle ISIS with their "cuteness".  Those a--holes might behead something and then we'd have a Sarah McClachlan type situation on our hands and no one wants that!

Then the three of us (Myself, Sarah and her dog) would have to go to Iraq.  When I was already planning a "Thelma & Louise" scenario with my best friend that did not include dogs but did involve the use of an Uzi!  The "T&L" scenario includes many explosions!  "Embrace the Suck, People!"

Joan Rivers Dead? I Didn't Even Know She Was Sick! I Just Saw Her!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was all set to pontificate on a gripping, tumor-themed topic (this week brain tumors and Josef Goebbels as "Minister of Propaganda".   The man had a brain tumor!  Doubtless.  It would explain a lot!  That must be the answer!  What other answer could there be?  Brain tumors and Nazis!  You can't have one without the other!  It's like peanut butter and chocolate!  Two things that compliment each other! ) Then this happened:  Joan Rivers died.  I adored her for years!  Joan had reinvented herself, yet again, and I watched her every week on "Fashion Police".  Ms. Rivers was funny!  Always!  She was absolutely fearless and I never heard her tell the same joke twice.  She loved little dogs and gay guys and her family and she never, ever stopped moving forward!  There was no "off" button on the woman!

So, when I heard she was sick following some routine procedure and I assumed she'd recover. She didn't.  She was 81.  About the same age as my parents!  I'm here to tell you people, the Reaper doesn't play around!  We could get our tickets punched at any time!  Any of us!  Even the female pioneers! As a possible pioneering "patient of the future" (clearing the Tumor Tarmac for y'all since 2011!) I'm more committed than ever to attaining my goals and benchmarks in Physical Therapy.  I'm no Joan (heck, I'm not even a Kathy Griffin!), but I'll never stop moving forward!  So watch out PT Moore!  Haha!  I've mastered what you've assigned me and I'm ready for more.  A lot more!  My world is silver, blue and gold and full of possibilities again.  OK, smart asses, it's definitely full of something!  Happy?

Did I think I'd outlive Ms. Rivers?  Undoubtedly.  Did I know how much I would miss her?  Decidedly not.  I think I know what Ms. Rivers would say if she were in my situation, the same thing Hannibal Lecter might say, "Tick tock, tick tock".  Time.  I'm almost out.  We have so little, we owe it to everyone we love to use every minute well!

Did you see last year's documentary about her?  "Joan Rivers:  A Piece of Work"  Maybe that's what we have in common, and why I like her so much.  I'm a "piece of work", "iron-willed" and always moving forward.   We have that in common to be sure but it's not why I'll miss her!  Nah, she was just friggin' funny.  And it doesn't matter where you are in life if someone or something is really funny. At the end of a Tom Cruise movie I actually like ("The Last Samurai"), The "emperor" asks Mr. Cruise to describe how "The Last Samurai" died.  Cruise's character responds with, "Let me tell you how he lived."  I saw enough TV to know whether she was on "E!", "HBO" or "QVC" Joan was spending her time well!

PS - Someone recently asked me if I'd heard of the TV Trend of "Naked and Afraid".  Not only had I heard of "N & A", in my capacity as CCC (Chief Crippled Critic, or C3) I have viewed some of the inevitable spinoffs from "N&A", like "Naked & Dating".  But the most cringeworthy, extension of the "N&A" (Did I say "N&A"?  Because I meant to say "Naked and Afraid" for, oh, I don't know about 5 minutes.  Then the rest of the 21 days should be more accurately called, "Dirty and Disgusting or "dehydrated and really dirty and really hungry") phenom has to be "Naked Real Estate".  The buyers are naked and the real estate agents are not.  The sellers just have the good sense not to be any part of this fiasco or wisely determine that a naked person probably isn't "their" buyer!  RE "naked"?  Why?  Why indeed?  The best part is when the agents hook up with the naked "buyers" back in the kitchen.  It is so awkward and so uncomfortable you know there won't be a Season 2. You can almost hear the crickets!  Hahaha!  It's great TV!

Remember "The Little Engine That Could"? Well I'm "The Old Engine That Will"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was waiting all week to write about something relevant (Chanel and Cancer?  Too rich?  Too thin?  Or too dead?) and then this happened:  I met a Motion Therapist named Bridgit.  She's kind and beautiful and gave me difficult exercises that I have a short time to master.  To quote Fred Willard in "Anchorman, The Legend of Ron Burgundy", "Ask and you shall receive!" When female reporter Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate) demands that she be given a hard-hitting news story, (I think he gives her a meat loaf recipe.  She actually reports on a not-to-be-missed cat show, it is one of the funniest movies ever made!  Seriously.)

Anyway I went to Folsom (lovely town!) and I asked for serious work and I received it!  Since time is of the essence, I was really appreciative that she got right to work putting me to work.  Apparently there is "a lot going on" in my noggin (we all know that!) that needs to be identified before a determination can be reached.

Luckily, determination is my middle name.  Leah is actually my middle name, but "Determination" should be!  All the weight lifting, all the hundreds of miles of biking to nowhere came together  to show their purpose. I "lost my place in space" and I have to regain/relearn balance to walk. I understood what she wanted and her terminology instantly.  If she was surprised by my determination and degree of FUBARedness, (F@#$@#! UP BEYOND ALL RECOGNITION! Old Government Term), she never showed it.

What she demonstrated was a knowledge of the brain that was as vast as mine is small and that she had a plan for neuroplasticity.  I have to execute the plan, but there's a plan.  That's all I want!

I am the patient of the future.  Kicking cancer out of my body was just the first step in a long process, not the end game. I expect all subsequent MRI's to be clear and they are and will continue to be.  I'm as healthy as a horse and expect to remain so. We live in a society that worships money and youth.  On the surface, society revere's health, which is really important because once you lose that, none of the other things matter.  As my best friend once observed, "You can always make more money.  But once your health is gone..."  The implication being once you lost your health, you were screwed!  You don't get a "do-over".  I am alive and profoundly grateful to be (Thank you HA!)  (Thank you, Paul (Dr. Death!).  I am focused and motivated.  I have a young child.  Failure is not an option.  Pain?  Fear?  That's the other guy's problem!  I feel fantastic!  Hungry, but fantastic!  I keep thinking about those stupid "Transformers", that's what has happened to me I'm transforming.

I think the game is changing and I'm on the precipice of that change.  Bridgit Moore could be my guide to the other side.  Game on!  Bring it!

My mother recently asked me what acute rehab was.  It's where they try to train you how to function at home immediately following surgery, I spent a few weeks there immediately following brain surgery in 2011. I was not very happy or successful in 2011 for the  same reasons I would be amazingly successful now. Immediately after surgery I was not eating/sleeping properly, dependent on pain medication and under the tragic misimpression I'd get better in about a year.  It's been three years.  I take 0 medications and am always searching for an answer.  I have focus and drive like I never have had.  Everything I do since 2011 is for a single objective; one goal, one result.  I don't see anything else.  That's what I mean by "patient of the future".  I'm never, ever quitting and I don't know whether I should be amused or exasperated by the lame (and I mean Lame!) selection of goods and services marketed to the lame!

Scooters?  Upright Tubs?  Seats that creep ever so slowly up staircases?  Really?  I fought The Big "C" for this? Uh, I don't think so! The only big "C" I entertain now is "Cookie"  or possibly "Caramel", I am different from other patients because I only care about getting better.  I don't care at all about feeling better!  I feel as about as good as I'm going to.

This is why I think I would thrive in an intense, therapeutic setting:  I'm ready to work, I have health, strength and stamina.  I don't expect to have fun, ever.  I'm neither sleepy or sensitive!  I'll sleep and cry when I'm dead.  But mostly because I will do the work.  There is an old kitchen expression that translates to most professions, that instantly and precisely tells everyone where you are in the big scheme of things.  I'm "in the weeds"(see: FUBARred for description) and I know it!  I have one shot at getting out of them.  This is it.  So, come on Dr. Huang (?), what do you say?  Patient determined to succeed who needs almost nothing but therapy and somewhere to do it?  C'mon!  I don't care where the referral comes from!  I will succeed!  That place has this awesome "Transformer" machine that engages the patient safely and relieves the therapist of manipulating all the patient's dead weight around, using a remote.

I can't walk but I have energy for days!  When I can walk I'll never stop.  I'll just keep walking...  Or stand, I'll just stand around!  Eating cookies!  That would be great!

I didn't survive cancer, I kicked it's butt!  It's not coming back, I can suffer through an infinite number of MRIs, that won't change!  So come on Bridgit!  Bring it!

 Now we'll see if I'm as smart and strong as I think I am.  It's time to Embrace the Suck, people!


PS - Boomer was a special boy!

If Crazy Jihadists Can Inspire Me How Must Healthy Americans Be Reacting?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I had a scintillating topic to complain about; (Brain Tumors and Why Those BIG Headaches Really Should Be Diagnosed) then this happened.  James Foley got kidnapped and decapitated in Iraq.  Nothing humorous or trivial.  All flavors of sadness and indignation represented there.  ISIS?  WTH?  And Al Quaeda has disavowed these dudes? For being "too radical"?   I don't think so.  Nuh, uh, not in my house!  Here's why it's BT (Brain Tumor) related:  If this news has inspired me into action (and no, I have no clue exactly what form this "action" might take.  This "action" could manifest itself in say, a strongly worded letter) you can imagine how all kinds  (and large numbers) of Americans far less handicapped than I might respond!

And before you ask, no, I haven't seen the video.  And I'm not going to.  Ever.  My seeing it won't help anything.  It's bad.  I know that.  A good man, somebody's uncle/brother/son died.   I haven't tried crystal meth either.   Same deal, it's like a Geico commercial.  "Decapitation and crystal meth are bad!"  "Everybody knows that!"

So with "Eye of the Tiger" blaring in the background, envision a montage of rehabbing (me) at the gym getting toned and stretched until I can walk then, run!  Then I purchase a one-way plane ticket to Iraq where I locate ISIS then I promptly get shot and die.  Because that is what would happen if I went to Iraq. This isn't "Kill Bill I" and I'm not Beatrix Kiddo. So, I won't go to Iraq :(.  ( Boo-hoo! I know you're so sad!)

But the notion that I even entertained an idea of a montage or would travel half way across the world to get shot (when I could easily get shot right here!) is alarming!  When I considered taking the wheelchair to Iraq, I keep seeing the covered wagon joke from "Blazing Saddles".  The joke was there was one family who was alone.  So when it was time to "corral the wagons" their one wagon would race around in circles!  That's how I see the wheelchair in a protest.  So another reason to 86 the evil chair!  (As if I needed another reason, I didn't)

I'm feeling marvelous these days!  The most negative emotion I register is "slightly irritated" so for me to get fired up for any montage is significant!  And I'm fired up, make no mistake about that! I want to raise some money and some awareness!  No one and nothing will stop me either!  And I'm pretty jazzed about the adventure!  Even if I just go in a circle!

PS - A great friend went on with his journey ahead of us.  He will be with his parents always.

My Tribute to a Gal's Gal - Who Departed This World This Week to Continue On Her Journey...

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Again I was going to take on a subject that desperately needs to be obsessed about:  Brain Tumors and Barnabas Collins - Coincidence or Connection? and then this happened:

Last week, Robin Williams committed suicide.  Everyone felt really bad about it.  It was a straight up suicide too, not an overdose or some erotic adventure gone horribly wrong, the guy hanged himself on Tiburon.

Very sad, for all kinds of reasons.  Someone else died (a movie star) that same day with not any of the drama or fanfare of the painful death (I mean for all of us, I have no doubt it was really painful for poor Mr. Williams), so I wanted to express my feelings about this star who I last saw playing herself on "The Sopranos".

Lauren (Betty) Bacall had a long career and an even longer life.  Ms. Bacall is known for many things, but most people only remember her as being half of a pair, Bogart & Bacall.  After Bogey died (of cancer) Ms. Bacall went forward and had several high-profile relationships and at least one other marriage, but she claimed that Humphrey Bogart was "the love of her life" and it's arguably what she's best known for.

A great deal has been said about her "look" (she was nervous) and the now-infamous "line" (You know how to whistle, right?  You just put your lips together and blow!)  "To Have and Have Not" and "Key Largo" were the two quintessential Bogart/Bacall pictures and they're very good.

My favorite Lauren Bacall film is as much fun to watch now as it probably was 40 years ago.

All the great qualities of Betty Bacall, Marilyn Monroe, New York in the 50's, are on display in one of my very favorite movies:  Howard Hawks' "How to Marry a Millionaire".  It's stylish and silly and funny as hell.  It's what "Sex In the City"wanted to be, strived for, all those seasons.

These girls were models that ate hotdogs and "dogburgers" whatever those were. They drank beer too. These girls had amazing wardrobes and were dead broke.  They lived in a stunning apartment on Park Avenue and had nothing in their refrigerator but old corsages and champagne!  The only visible result of this "poverty" was the furniture coming and going.  "Dogburgers"?  WTH?  OK, so it's not technically based in any reality I'm aware of.  It's pretty and funny.  I love every minute of it!

Bacall is the "brains" of this scheme and the only one that actually marries a millionaire, although she's unaware of it at the time.  In every scene she looks incredible, it's in technicolor which was a big step forward back in those days.

Anyway, there are certainly more substantial films in her body of work but none that are as filled with eye-candy and fun to watch.  Bacall as "Schatzi" could make any hare-brained scheme sound plausible.  "Marry a Millionaire?  Sounds like a crazy caper to me!  I'm in!
 
PS - My fun of the week has to go to Funny Or Die's "Drunk History" on Comedy Central.  I defy you not to laugh.  And the laughs are the best because they're completely unintentional.

Different Day, Same Question: Is It Cancer? No? Then Who Cares? But Is It Ebola?...

Hello Fellow Travelers!

Once again I was all set to share my thoughts on a cancer-related subject (this week:  Frankenstein: Monster Created from Death or Just a  Really Bad Headache?) then this happened:

I thought cancer was like Hitler the worst of the worst - the worst disease possible, mortality rate is astronomical.  Ebola is worse than a brain tumor.  A lot worse.  Ebola is a death sentence.  A short, brutal death sentence.  I might be able to overcome my current situation, but Ebola would kick me to the curb!  So never ask yourself, "How could things get any worse?"  Because things can always get worse.  They invariably always do, so don't even ask.

What's worse than cancer?  Easy.  Ebola!  Fast, extremely painful and very deadly.  The CDC doesn't know what to do with it!  When the Center for Disease Control doesn't know, nay, freely admits to not possessing the first clue how to treat this, you know it's bad!  And then you die.  Pretty happily, I might add.  Grateful for death!  Now, that's some serious doo-doo, as the PS might say.  I thought cancer separated your hair (or made it fall out) but anything that CNN reports hourly on and requires it's reporters to don hazmat suits could be a pandemic.  Or,  at the very least, it's very "badass"!

I am reminded again of KB #1 and the Japanese Charlie Brown who answers his wife very thoughtfully when Charlie Brown-San is asked if he wants his head chopped off.  "No, I don'r think I'd like that."  I feel the same way about ebola. It doesn't sound very safe.  And I don't think I'd like it.

I was asleep and dreaming (as I often do) and I kicked a wall hard.(KB#2)  In all my dreams I can walk.  In any bone-breaking event I waited as long as I could before going to the doctor .Sometimes I don't go get any medical attention  The problem for me now is I can't tell if anything is broken.  I've been wrong before.  And the results have been disastrous. My foot became truly the colors of the rainbow, and I was pretty certain "letting it get better", was not an option.   So I sucked it up and got an X-Ray, great news!  No break, just a colorful sprain!  It doesn't meet my usual criteria:  Is it cancer?  No?  Then who cares?  Now I have to worry about E-bola too?  Really? I just don't have the strength!

PS - Very sorry to hear about Robin Williams passing.  I guess the voices in his head became too loud.

Teddy Bears the Way They Were Intended - With Fangs and Nails in their Giant Paws!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was going to start a big discussion on some important, tumor-specific topic (Brain Cancer and Cialis;  why "ED" is a problem for tumor patients.  Or is it "all in their heads"?) and then this happened.  I've always liked Steiff Teddy Bears, vampires,  and the band Muse.  I've always been interested in the Third Reich, I never knew why.  I saw somewhere that all you had to type to see the Muse video that won the 2010 MTV Award for Best Animation were the words Muse and angry teddy bears to U-Tube.

I'm usually game for anything having to do with teddies so I thought I'd have a look.

I vaguely recall the awards show from 2010 in fact Muse was the only thing I remember about the show because they brought the house down with  a live version of "Uprising".  So recently I looked at the 2009 video and it worked on every level for me.  Giant teddy bears, running amok with vampire fangs!  Giant angry, teddies in a tiny town, rising from the dead and catching fire, ending with a teddy bonfire and all the plastic people get their faces melted off! At the teddy bear bonfire.  It's  perfect!

In this video, several of my lifelong interests are all explored and explained.  And there is a teddy bear bonfire!   Presumably with vampire teddies!  And it is awesome!  Remember what happened to the SS officer in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom"?  His face melts off!  Same thing happens to all the teeny, tiny, townsfolk at the Steiff Bear BBQ!  When I was a little kid I wanted a Teddy Bear Picnic, now I'd like a safe and sane Teddy Bear bonfire!

Now that mystery has been solved I can move onto more pressing issues, like cookies!

Anger or Joy? Which Is A Better Motivator? I Think I Already Know Which Is More Cinematic! (I'll Give You A Hint: It Rhymes With Langer!)

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was going to discuss the Nazi connection to brain tumors;  "Cancer and the Third Reich:  A Deadly Duo" but then this happened:  I was into my usual pile of leg presses, say 200 or so, when a wonderful "old" movie appeared on the screen, 2005's "Batman Begins" directed by Christopher Nolan and features Liam Neeson as the baddie, training the very angry Bruce Wayne in terrorism.  In this first Batman film you meet Alfred  (Michael Caine) Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) and Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes).  But the bigger theme  is how vast, unmatched anger inspires billionaire, Bruce Wayne, to "rechannel" his real fear of bats to all the bad guys out to destroy Gotham City.  Nolan's caped crusader is dark and brooding, he speaks very little.  Anger and revenge factor into the rebirth and success of many heroes and anti-heroes.

Since 2011, I have been conscious of one overriding emotion that trumps all others:  I feel great 24/7!  Great and grateful to be alive!  "Pain means you're alive?"  Yes, a doctor did say that to me.  My response?  "Pain?  Bring It! And keep bringing it!  Pain medication is for sissies!"  I thoroughly enjoyed the Olympics, I've discovered "the game within the game" that is baseball.  Pain?  What Have You Got?  I can do pain all day!  Standing on my head (If I could stand, which I can't, yet) so hit me with your best shot!  I scared brain cancer away, so pain schmain!  I'll reiterate the only question that matters:  Is it cancer?  No?  Then who cares?

I feel happy and driven to produce like I've never experienced.  I see value in everyone and potential everywhere.  My cup runneth over so I gave it to someone else because I needed to leave and I don't drink anyway.  TMI?  How about if I just leave the stupid cup right here?  It's more than half full, Okeley Dokely?  (Remove a brain tumor and I turn into a character on "The Simpsons", thanks HA!)

Seriously, though, since God and his demonic counterpart (PS has a viable theory regarding which side actually wants my soul;  The Lord:  "I don't want her"  The Devil:  "I don't want her either!"  The Lord:  "But you promised!"  The Devil:  "I lied. Duh." And it goes on from there) shook me, spun me and fished me out of the River (The River Nile?  The River Styxx?  Styx the band?  I don't know!) of Life or Something I'm focused like a freaking shark with a laser on it's head!  And every day I feel a little better.  It's amazing!

Everyone's journey is different but now I'm so physically challenged the writing just pours out.  I am keenly interested in everything and everyone.  If I was any cooler I'd be Sammy Davis, Jr.  I don't have any earthly idea why I feel so great, but I do and I only have one question...

Trivago Never Browse It! Ever! Never Give Them One Thin Dime! Trivago!I Hate Them! Here's Why! And It's Unbelievably Petty!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I had something cancer-related to talk about; "Death:  Tragedy?  Or the Last Diet You'll Ever Be On?" And then I saw this, many times, a decent-looking guy who looks like an unmade bed advertising a website (Trivago) over and over.  On many different channels.  And because I had a brain tumor that required brain surgery (Thank you, HA!), I was forced to watch a few views of this maddening commercial (Trivago) that was ten kinds of wrong from the get-go, and with repeated viewings just got wronger.  Now when I see the name (Trivago!) I always find something new to hate.

It isn't just the "pitchman" (and yes, I'm using air quotes in a sarcastic way) is "costumed" in the drabbest, most ill-fitting shirt and jeans I've seen in a while.  You wouldn't let this guy recycle your cans let alone rely on him for vacation advice.  It offends me personally that some company spent millions of dollars to hire some goodlooking guy take precious minutes of my life by being aggressively unnappealing and offering me unsolicited advice on where to spend discretionary income.  Puhleeze!

I have a nephew in England whose posting videos of civil unrest (Way To Go! Liam!) (and himself up to his ankles in the fray that he filmed and posted) and I'm peeved at this Trivago dude.  I mean really affronted, like I'll make it a quest to loudly and repeatedly dissuade anyone who can read from ever using Trivago!  Sounds like Key Largo, not really, though.  It isn't just that he's bow-legged and unshaven.  It's all that AND he looks like he just rolled out of bed.  What is it exactly that this fellow is supposed to inspire us to go out and buy?  Cuz I'm not inspired!  And I'm not buying!  Let's break it down.  There's nothing wrong here a decent suit and a tie wouldn't fix.

He's a good-enough looking guy, and maybe that  was the problem;  maybe he showed up and he was too good looking so the makeup people went too far the other way and now he looks like he needs a bath and a good home.  I'm not sure but I think he was peddling vacations! I need a vacation like I need a hole in the head.  OK, another one.  OK, I just checked and it's OK to hate them, they aren't that great a deal (Trivago) rhymes with Iago.

PS-  I just learned that O.J. Simpson is going on a hunger strike.  I have absolutely nothing to add to that.

Evolving, Mutating It's All the Same, It's All Change and Change Is Good, Right?

`

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I was going to write something fun on the nature of profound headaches (Cookie Headaches:  I Wish I Had  One) and then this happened:  After proof beyond a reasonable doubt (or possibly a note from the Great "Beyond") that someone or something has a plan for me I received this little message.  Where it originated, who sent it?  I have no idea and I have no idea at this point if it even matters.

Just when reality and endless dizziness were about to overtake my daily sojourn into the unknown, this little bookmark appeared as if by magic!  Reset my Resolve button, swept away any doubt I had that I'm doing the right thing.  Remember "Shrek"?  Who doesn't?  Shrek and I are both on a "quest".  Not fun necessarily, but adventure nonetheless.  Since 1/11 I've been getting repeated, simplistic messages (Hey you!  Yeah, you!, Simple Things for Simple Minds, right?) I've been the recipient of too many (and let's face it; too obvious) "signs" to completely ignore them (OK, M. Night Shamalyn directed my life since 1/11!  I get it!) 

I will never be remembered as a great "noticer" of things.  A close friend of mine commented that I "was the least self aware person" she'd ever met.   Any signs directed towards me require arrows and lots of neon.  "Look HERE!"  "Go THERE!"  Do they still make "Lite Brites"?  Maybe I'd pay more attention if there was a "Lite Brite" arrow pointing to the object/alien/idea I'm supposed to look at.    I'm paying closer attention to signs than I ever have before partly because I am starting to feel like the "Why Lee Coyote" in my own life.  Like there's an anvil or a grand piano hanging over my head by a slender thread.

After careful consideration of all the information available to me, about me, my conclusion is that I'm cautiously optimistic.  It's the best I can guess and the best I can hope for.  I know the answer is out there somewhere probably somewhere clearly marked by a black Sharpie (an entire big box marked "solutions"), if any of you get a sign meant for me (or a sign I can misconstrue as being for me) send it!  No sign will be rejected.  

Why Me? Why not me? Is It Cancer? No? Then Who Cares, Anyway? Or How I Learned to Just Go With It!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I am not wasting a second wondering how I got in this predicament.  Why me?  Never crosses my mind.  I have never spent a second contemplating my lot in life, or more specifically, why brain cancer?  Why now?  I could spend a lot of time and energy investigating the why's and wherefores but I always feel like time is so short, in essence, evaporating so quickly, I'll always be behind. So I just set the bar low, like always:  Is it cancer?  No?  Then who cares?   I feel so great!   It is perplexing, though.

I am in the best shape I've ever been in, I'm still pretty quick on  the ol' uptake, I still don't miss much.  With the possible exception of chocolate (I still really dislike it!  Call me "UnAmerican", Ha!  I survived brain cancer, for Pete's Sake! Most dessert items are dipped or coated in chocolate which is annoying but tolerable, like me! ) I like most things that are sweet.  And I'm not discriminant either.  I like everything with sugar - from Rice Krispy treats to Pyramids of Raspberry Mousse Dipped in Gold Leaf.  And anything in between.

So not only am I being deprived, I know I'm depriving myself!  I'm freaking hungry all the time! I've been literally hungry for years! Since I'm neither a bear or a supermodel I couldn't say with any certainty why I am always thinking about desserts. I went my entire life never seeing desserts as anything more than a half hour of coffee and gluttony on 7" plates.  It doesn't seem fair, but, as I have said before nothing about cancer is fair. I've been telling you guys for years (as long as I could type anyway)  that everything seems to have a reason behind it and I think I've stumbled upon another piece of the jigsaw puzzle that is my life.   I was really distressed to discover that despite working out daily, cutting my caloric intake by 50%, feeling hungry every minute of every day and steadily losing weight, I didn't look any different!  Pretty bogus, n'est pas?

I thought so too!  But now I see results and what might be happening is another example of what's supposed to happen.  For the first time in my life I can see all the muscles I've been working on, not just hear about how strong I am from doctors and therapists.  Me, seeing results from 2+years of working out is significantly more motivational than hearing about neuroplasticity.  I have every expectation that neuroplasticity will work, but dropping pounds and building muscle seems a lot more worthwhile when I can see the eventual shapes of my legs and torso emerging with every workout.- neuroplasticity is my goal, but I really thought I would see some change after two years elapsed.  I was puzzled why after so much time and effort nothing was happening.

But in true Jan form the change was dramatic and immediate:  not just any tumor, oh no, a freaking brain tumor no less! And not just any surgery, freaking emergency neurosurgery to remove a stage three cancerous brain tumor!  (Thank You Dr. A.!)  Followed closely by Chemo and radiation (Thank you, Dr. S.!)  Getting some ailment that can be cured by Lyrica or Dr. Oz would be too normal for me!  I not only get cancer,  I get brain cancer! And I pass the Grim Reaper daily in the halls, that's how close I came to death.  And I know it!  IBS or Gout might be easier to treat or live with but they lack the drama of cancer.  Every MRI I get for the forseeable future will just be to reconfirm that I am cancer free!

  WTH? All Western Medicine seems to offer is reactions to cancer. Reactions to getting it, treating it, discovering it's return.  Historically if all an enemy can do is react eventually they will lose.  I don't have any intention of revisiting any of the medical ground I've covered.  If cancer returns I'll find some new way to crush it.  I've never thought of myself as a reactionary and this experience has taught me is that you should never, ever, think to yourself, "Gee, things just can't get any worse!"  Things can be a lot worse.  And a lot worse fast! Am I supposed to spend the remainder of my life waiting waiting to die?  I won't!  I can't!  Giving into any circumstance brought about by this cancer is nothing I ever consider.

PS - I know I've mentioned Discovery Channel's "Naked & Afraid"  Which should be called "Strangers Who Complain A Lot In the Dirt" or "A Guy & a Gal in the Dirt Who Can't Start A Fire"  So now there is the inevitable "Naked & Dating".  I have no idea when or where it's on, check your local listings.

Trekking Through The Surreal With Time Melting Around Me

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I like a lot of art, but especially Modern Art because what Kandinsky and Pollack  represent to me is a freedom of spirit and unconventional thinki

The Persistence of Memory - Dali 1931

ng in a painted format.  Marc Chagall painted a couple flying through the night sky. And in a corner is a chicken, I think Chagall had of some kind of livestock in all his work.  I am not a big fan of the Surrealist Movement but there is  painting by Dali that expresses to me how the world looks to me on any given day.  Everything is upside down, topsy-turvy, in a word, surreal.  Dr. A. had to go through the cerebellum to remove the giant tumor (yuck!), when he removed the tumor.  He diplomatically refers to the other (death, and no, I wouldn't like that, thank you very much!) option back in 2011.  (Thank you, Dr. A.)

Several years ago I spent some time visiting a relative in Seattle because he was in a mental health facility.  He had completely lost his mind by then and spoke in partial thoughts and partial phrases.  The person I was with couldn't follow his ever-changing narrative, but I sort of could.  His mind had snapped completely but talking to him was kind of like surfing - I just tried to follow him and hang on.  In one instance he was a policeman, ten seconds later he was fishing.  I didn't feel sorry for him I kind of got it.  He died soon after our visit.  Another example of surrealism in real life.

I definitely feel like I've unwittingly been preparing for  (something) years and it's my duty to work harder and longer every day.  I hate (yes, hate) this wheelchair, but a lot of positive results have come from this experience.  And I will happily tell anyone about the results as soon as I can speak!

"I'm Tired!" Lily von Schtupp, "Blazing Saddles"

Hello Fellow Travelers!

I hesitate to tell you about last week's visit  UCSF but this is supposed to be an honest reporting about an everyday person's circuitous journey through the morass of cancer and Western medicine, wherever that journey takes me, so I am compelled to share.

I saw a "motion specialist".  She was helpful, smart and kind.  She seemed pleased by my physical and mental strength.  She prescribed a very low dose (and I mean really low - 1mg) of valium that is supposed to relieve some of the dizziness which I identified as my number one problem.  It is the key to everything else.  If I can stop the earth from falling away I can begin to repair the vast damage I've been living with since 2011.

I also let the good (and heartbreakingly young!) doctor know how great I feel (Thank You, Dr. Aliabadi!) and how motivated I am (Thank You PS!).  Dr. Motion (not her real name, but I haven't asked her permission to use her name) was thorough and blunt.  The chances of me significantly improving at this point are somewhere between slim and none.  My physical prowess and "take no prisoners" attitude persuaded her that I might be that rare patient who succeeds, who doesn't die (from cancer anyway, although I'd hate to think I've gone through all this to ultimately get flattened by a bus)  My MRIs are "remarkably unremarkable", to quote my oncologist.  I guess that's a good thing.  Then why was I let down?

Of course, I'm taking the medication.  Of course, it has no effect, I knew it wouldn't.  We'll follow her instructions to the letter and I have absolutely no faith that any pill in any amount will have any beneficial effect whatsoever.  My expectations were low, on the bright side, I got to meet another brainy brain professional, I'll see her again and I had a visit with my fabulous in-laws!  Why was I disappointed?  I've given this considerable consideration and you know what it is?  I'm tired.  PS is too. We're both exhausted.  It's that simple.  And that complicated.  We're just "plum worn out". Just living is really hard work these days and the adventure is nowhere near over.   The boys don't share in my 24/7 good feeling,  my whole world is drenched in sunlight in a way I can't even describe let alone share.

My best friend might be right; maybe I am looking for a "big" solution that fixes everything, but I don't think so.  For one thing, I don't think such a solution exists.  But, when you are tired and everyone seems to answer every medical question with some form of "I dunno" any solution looks plausible.  When the act of swallowing requires a five-step process by the end of the day you're beat!

PS wants to see "Maleficient", whatever, it's a rare opportunity for me to eat CANDY!  But it has got me thinking about Oz and the W3 (Oh, you know the Wicked Witch of the West, the unforgettable Margaret Hamilton) she terrorized poor Dorothy with a few props.  One of the scariest object d' art is the giant hourglass, it's the object that spurs me on and haunts my dreams.  I think of it often, that giant hourglass with the sand running out.  Time always wins I just need to utilize every minute I have!  I believe in neuroplasticity but I still have hope at UCSF.  Hope is good, right?

Invalid? Or Just Invalid? Does It Even Matter?

Hello Fellow Travelers!

My teenaged son does not enjoy reading.  So what do I make him do?  Whenever I get the opportunity?  I make him read to me of course!  Car-trips, gym sessions, doctors' waiting rooms are all good places to "get your read on", in my opinion, and since my opinion is the only one that counts (What do you mean you "don't like to read?"  Learn to like it!) all opposing views will be summarily squashed.

Lately, we've been attacking the 9th grade literature syllabus.  So we flip back and forth between "Romeo & Juliet" and "The Catcher in the Rye".  "Catcher" is pretty easy to decipher, "R & J"?  Much more difficult!  So as the boy muddles through the Olde English, we let most wild mispronunciations go uncommented on (I mean come on, they don't talk like this on GOT, so who needs it?) but occasionally the lad manufactures a word or two that's unintentionally hilarious!

On our way to a Giant's game in The City we had time to read!  Patient Spouse and I lost it because our son somehow derived "Lambicide" (CSI-Lambicide/starring David Caruso, this fall on CBS) where "Lammis Tide" was and "beauteous" mutated into "Bucius"?  (a feminine Southern gentleman?  A pit bull?  Who knows?)

In our frantic paced, over-connected, multiple deviced world "The Bard" can seem antiquated and WTH?

As much as words mean to me, I have to take particular issue with a particular word that's as negative as an adjective as it is a noun - invalid.  Whether it is a person in a wheelchair or the validity of your driver's license nobody wants any part of either kind of invalid.  It instantly negates the person/document/whatever as worthless and illegitimate.

Despite my own intense dislike for them and out of absolute necessity I got a new wheelchair.  It's the same basic, stripped down model I had before and I hope will be very temporary.  In the meantime I was cleaning the wheels and peeling off the stickers when I came across the company name and logo - Invacare.  It might as  well be subtitled "Where Dreams Go To Die!"

Any wheelchair represents an acceptance of physical limitations I think of as temporary as being permanent. I will never accept the wheelchair as anything other than a temporary solution.  I have legs.  I was meant to walk around.  I'm a stander not a sitter.  A wheelchair completely robs the individual of his or her identity.  Mostly, all people see is the chair.  I am determined to ditch this thing ASAP.

If you put any part of the word "invalid" in your logo, you're probably not going to move a lot of anything you're trying to sell.  It's not hopeful.  It's a major buzzkill!  Can you tell how I still feel about these stupid chairs?  Still hate 'em.  I actually like it that this chair hurts my back!  It protects my posture and motivates me to get out of it faster!  I can put a positive on anything!

All I'm saying is you can put all the nice, "caring" suffixes you want to behind invalid.  It's still a wheelchair and you're still the invalid in the wheelchair!