When cancer gives you cancer, or "What Now?"

Oh the "New Post" button. How I've avoided you for so long. But let's get to it, shall we, and acknowledge that I am a bad poster, but also the fact that, really, you don't want to know.

Here's the summary: I cheated at the breast cancer race, started radiation, got skin cancer, got it removed, got in a funk, got out, and then had a weekend off. Hooray!

I'll start with the Debbie Downer part. I see a dermatologist annually cause certain parents have blessed me with a large number of moles and pale skin. I also wanted to talk to the doc about radiation, so I visit my dermatologist, go over my year-o-medical-history, and she checks me over. A suspect mole is found and removed. Turns out it's melanoma. A small melanoma, but cancer nonetheless. Oddly, the doc reckons from my pathology that my white blood cells had been doing a good job keeping this cancer in check, but chemo, which suppressed my white blood cell count, allowed it to flourish for a minute and pop up, literally. So, good news disguised as bad, they were able to catch it early and removed extra margins a week ago. I can't wait til you see the scar. It really looks like a stab wound.

There you go: my cancer caused cancer.


In other cancer treatment news, radiation is going. It's every day. It's before work. It makes me tired. At first, I was going at 6:45 in the morning and getting to work in the dark. This I did not sign up for and my body and brain had a hard time with the schedule. Bad. Then I decided that I was not that tough and asked to be moved. A spot opened and now I go at 7:45. Also, daylight savings time ended and my morning now feels somewhat normal. (Save the giant HAL 9000 with metal teeth that zaps me every morning. That part is still not normal.) Major side effects: skin damage and annoyance. Otherwise, doing well.


And now, the race. I'm happy that no one else signed up for the Tour de Pink, because it turned out to be a race for actual professional cyclists with single-pound bikes and shaved arm hair. Not, then, for you or me. We showed up with our bikes and pretty quickly decided to skip the 20 mile bike ride and just do the 5K run. There were a few (very few) survivors there and we did a 1-mile "survivors loop" before the race started. After that, I was tired and ready to go. (Not because I had started radiation, which would have been a good out, but because Suzi was in town for the beer festival and we had beers and poutine the night before instead of a good night's sleep.) Sean was ready to run, but I talked him into just doing the loop again and then calling it a morning.

So, we do the loop and jog it in. Suddenly, I hear the announcement, "Folks, looks like we have our first 5K runners coming in!" and photographers appear, aiming at me. Oh no. No no no. I can sense their excitement at my bright pink (of course) T-shirt - the 5K winner is a survivor! No no no no no. I dive into the nearest porta-potty and yell to Sean, "Get the car and Suzi! I'll meet you there!" I take off my shirt and wait 10 minutes. I then sneak out, find Suz and Sean and we jet. What a disaster.

And now, your hair update. Yeah hair!