short post-it note:

that phrase of Dr. Nemechek's that bothered me..."you're just starting your journey through cancer..."

as I thought about it, mostly compulsively, it occurred to me...you know, there's no guarantee I have a malignant cell anywhere in my body.

so in my mind, which is the part I can immediately do something about, I am saying,

I am just starting my journey through cancer treatment.

it could be...I suspect it will be... a journey not of a thousand, but two or three steps.

it brings to mind what I have been thinking lately...a journey of a thousand miles begins with...what did I forget?

"that's only for the really sick people!"

at the meeting with the radiologist today, I was given a packet with a picture of a couple on the front who are so supposed to be my age, a dozen pages of glossy text, lined paper in the back to write notes on, and some pamphlets. one of the pamphlets listed counterindications for a great number of drugs during radiation...which I breezed over, since I am taking none of them...and the back page listed counterindicated foods, including some of my least favorite vegetables and some pretty choice fruits.

I had to ask Dr. Casey about it.

he said, "Don't worry about that. that's only for the really sick people."

that's the best thing anyone could possibly tell me.

other good news, to me, included the timetable...it looks like I may be starting the six weeks of five day a week radiation as early as a week from monday. sooner is better for the therapeutic effect, and also for my schedule, which is a lot more intense in June than it is in May.

it also included Dr. Casey's evaluation of how tired I am going to get come the third week (or 3 1/2) in.

he said, half the people don't report fatigue.

he predicted that I'll need to take a nap in the afternoon. but he said he didn't think I would not be able to perform. he said, if you're motivated to, you'll be able to.

the area in question is small, the radiation kind of confined.

he said, it would reduce the chance of recurrence by 50%.

I am always glad, gentle reader, when someone doesn't snow me, gives me the straight info without trying to put an unrealistically positive spin to it.

so I am going to tell you the worst of things as well as the best.

Dr. Nemechek, when I spoke with him today, used the phrase, "you're just beginning your journey through cancer."

wow.

he said it in regards to my asking him an impossible question..."how freaked out should I be?"

he said it was a great question.

it is very, very, very rare that a growth such as mine begins benign and turns malignant. he said there are only a few cases in all literature. so, he said, prognosis is not going to be easy.

I've had a lucky, lucky, lucky life, and this basically tells me there is no basis to believe my luck will change concerning treatment. but...the malignancy...a very low odds piece of misfortune.

he said, we do the radiation, and we wait. he said, there's no assurance, there's no peace...only the passage of time without trouble can relieve us to any degree.

I said, then, after the radiation, until something comes up...I'm healthy.

he said, that was the attitude to take.

I was on the phone making arrangements for the PET scan when Dr. Nemechek called...he jumped on the phone when I called back...but...I feel like I'm becoming a professional, career patient.

which has to stop.

and...I'm sorry if there is too much detail in here for anyone reading...this is somewhat of a therapeutic tool for me, and needs to be a place to vent...I still want to cope with all of this and get back to the important stuff, like whether the guitarist for Herman's Hermits stuffed a hanky in the strings to play "Mrs. Brown".

here's the other thing Dr. Casey said that I found funny. (I couldn't have gotten Kildare.)

I said, so, the PET scan is supposed to contain a considerable amount of radiation, isn't it?

he said, not compared to what you're going to be getting.

...................................never mind.

so, other than the dozen or so physical things I was paying attention to before this all hit, and other than my actual life, which is listening to background music while on hold, here are the levels I see things taking:

1. I continue my recovery from the surgery, which could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be going better

2. I commence and commence recovering from the six weeks of radiation.

3. I keep my eyes on the prize, on the skies, and on the MRI's, and until an alarm sounds, I am healed and healthy.

4. if the PET scan shows, as Dr. Casey deemed very unlikely, that the cancer exists anywhere else in this 60's lovin' body, then the radiation is called off, and it's going to be time to get really tough..."agressive" as the pair'o'docs say...like chemotherapy.

the PET scan is tomorrow. Dr. Casey said they could have the results by late tomorrow...most likely, he said, Monday...none of that for Dr. Nemechek, who said he will be reading the film and calling me on Saturday. (how great is he, and how lucky am I)

but...check it out...

the PET scan operates on the premise that malignant cells consume sugar more quickly than normal cells...I think I had a malignant childhood...and that gamma rays attach according to sugar consumption (wasn't it gamma rays that made The Hulk?)

and...we get the gamma rays...from the annihilation that occurs when an electron meets a positron.

a positron, the existence of which was unknown before 1930, is the mirror image of an electron, but while an electron has a negative charge, a positron... you're way ahead of me.

positrons are the antimatter correspondents to electrons.

I know the lab guys have heard every possible Star Trek reference. "Scotty...we need more juice!" "if we don't get the DiLithium crystals out of the Matter/Antimatter chamber, she's gong to blow!!!"

all I know is, this is an awful exalted neighborhood to find myself in. if I got off on $3,000 cables, a $12,000 lab test is pretty inspiring.

and I need to close with this-

these last three days have been the best days in a month. whatever shadow this all brings, I feel great. not taking so much as a tylenol. starting to sneak rehearsals in next week. did a percussion track the other day for Ellen Klaver's album. sleeping better than in the ten years before.

I anticipate quite the celebration after Dr. Nemechek's call on saturday. I'm going to be somewhat of a positron myself. and since the electron meets the positron tomorrow...maybe it'll be no charge.

recently added new Medical Mystery Tour dates

not the news we were hoping for from the pathology studies of the tumor.

it seems there were both benign and malignant cells found. Dr. Nemechek used the word "malignant" about 8 times and "cancer" once.

he said there are three approaches possible when those results are obtained.

one was to go in and take a batch more stuff out. he felt pretty strongly that that was at present uncalled for.

he also said that chemotherapy wasn't appropriate.

the third recourse is radiation, which I got the sense he feels is indicated.

he's ordering a PET scan of the whole body, too check for the cells "metastasizing" (hard to type and harder to say) into other areas of the body. it's the latest and greatest scan, I hear.

I said, so, give me a snapshot of what the radiation treatment looks like.

it's not much like other types of treatments for, say, stomach or breast...the neck is such a small area, and that limits the total dose. it's six weeks every day (five days a week, I find out), and the most pronounced side effect is, after three or three and a half weeks, there's some tiredness, fatigue.

there usually is in the middle of my summer...

it can't even start, he said, until I'm well healed (already well heeled) in five weeks or so. I have an appointment with Radiology Tuesday morning the 4th they'll watch for an earlier one) and they're trying to precert the insurance for the PET scan now.

we all kind of hoped that there wouldn't be a bad cell for miles.

my construct for a bit was that, since I reread the part of the operative report that said once the tumor was out...felt more like a tuber...there was nothing else that felt abnormal...that the radiation therapy was more preemptive, more just in case, as Dr. Nemechek felt like he "got it all". that that was more the case than "Scott has cancer."

Dr. Stewart Greisman had a more refined construct.

he said that there could be little pockets of malignant cells close to the site, and that radiation would really reduce the chances they could turn into something.

I can live with that construct.

everyone has small troves of malignant cells. it's what they are, and aren't, doing that is the determinant.

all along, I heard nothing but, we have to take the tumor out to know if there is malignancy in it. no other way of finding out exists.

if something shows up in the PET scan, I say, go ahead and panic. I would. but I also say, in case someone is taking odds and making bets, smart money says nothing will.

then, if I do the radiation, there will be no one to say, now, my boy, you're malignancy free.

instead...as we would have anyway..we watch.

but Stewart agreed that, throughout this Tour extension, until some scan shows something wrong...we have to think, I'm ok. I do the radiation, and then it's Condition Green until someone sees something.

and, smart money says Nemechek got it all, the radiation will dispirit the few possible cells left, and smart money says I'm ok.

as far as the summer goes, I may be kind of tired for a couple of weeks. and I won't be staying anywhere out of town for six weeks. if I had to have help moving equipment, if I had to sit down for a Little Bear gig, if I had to take breaks at Fanny's...I see those things as possibilities.

I don't see changing current summer plans.

it was a beautiful morning outside, and I'm feeling better than ever today. and I get to. and I get to enjoy what there is to enjoy these days.

truth is...I'm considering sneaking in some rehearsals after this weekend.

I like a good walk in the woods, but I'm sorry I'm not out of them yet. still, anyone would be a fool who was persuaded to bet that things are not going to be allright.

each succeeding demo of Good Vibrations

each succeeding take on my 80 minute cd of the "Mr. Tambourine Man" sessions

each new ten minutes of dawn

every ten miles closer on I-70 to the mountains

each new mix of a song

each six months experience with Pro Tools

every second louder of a Moody Blues cosmic fade in chord

how to describe everything getting better everyday. being aware of the improvement at the moment of awakening.

neither Advent calendars nor Hanukkah presents seem to work such that each day's present is a little better. recovery from colds happens gradually, but not usually over weeks; there's usually a day when, though we know what well is from 98 1/2% of our life, we reexperience so much more well so suddenly that we're elated.

I'm still reaching for the right analogy.

Chris was the love on my life in 1992; she taught me how utterly hip being positive actually is. I said to her, well, the decay of the body with age is a pretty well documented fact- what do you think life offers us that is beneficial to that magnitude?

she said, healing.

without healing, everything that had ever gone wrong with us would still be wrong, and have spent all that time getting worse.

without healing, the only middle age person in the world would be someone to whom through some improbable odds, no calamity or disease had ever happened.

with healing...we are all that person.

lisa's mother, Dorothy, sent me a get well card. one of the things she said was...enjoy this time. take it from one who knows.

it is indeed an infirm, annoying, boring kind of paradise. I am aware of the absence of almost all of my usual "have to's". I'm also aware of the absence of a lot of my favorite "get-to's".

Tuesday it will have been a. ten minutes, b. two weeks, c. ten years. (pick three)

I think it will be time around then to consult the doc. am I still not supposed to drive? is the anaesthesia out of my lungs? still best not to shave?

and...I'm thinking of starting to see folks...and...maybe a spot of rehearsal.

maybe a Fanny's pork burrito.

a Bruce Springsteen song played backwards, so the hero gets the girl, gets his job back, regains his faith...

"In The Year 2525" played backwards, with mankind able to become increasingly physical, and do more things for itself...

all I ever needed for analogy, though, is the increasing warmness and growing profusion and strengthening of life in these reawakening spring days. I can just ride that wave all the way in to shore.

End of the First Week

seems like about 18 hours since the operation. or, a year.

all signs continue to rise. kept going back to bed last night...slept from about 11pm to about 7:30 am. if I could sleep 12 hours a day, I would.

took a longer (1 hour) walk...it was so amazing out, hard to stop...hospital feelings and smells still lessening, though there's more to go...trapezius is settling back in, but my new recipient of max care is my sternocleidomastoid muscle, the big one in my neck on the right side. it was pried to the side when they were disconnecting the big bump, and it doesn't quite know where it fits in anymore. it lets me know when I'm prematurely demanding of it...

I wrote a 'cello part for Ellen Klaver's project today...seems the MotherFolkers (the most carefully pronounced name in show biz) will be convening this September, and anything that can help her project meet that deadline is all to the good. I'm reaching for musical activities to fill the days...a sure sign that up is returning to up in my life.

still have some bodacious halacious time to do in the Recupertorium.

a mastiff lighting a camping stove with a kaleidoscope...that's how my sternocleidomastoid muscle feels.

visit with the doc today

staples out. I was kind of hoping that would loosen me up for stretching, more exercise, etc...but it's necessary to be more careful than ever now that the support of the staples isn't there.

rats.

some of the disciplines are to be changed a little bit. but the upshot is, I need to hang in the healatorium and don't push for too much health too fast. barely a week tomorrow. don't sing, he says...hum. don't play guitar too hard or long.

well...there goes my solo adaptation of the Ring Trilogy.

there is the small shadow still that, somewhere in the mess in the neck mass, could be some small part that wasn't completely benign. that would mean more surgery , or chemo, or radiation. he's sending the Schwannoma out to 25 nerve guys around the country, to make as sure as possible of the findings. so...no pathology report so far.

personally...I am not ready to imagine I have spent 25 years with a malignant tumor. everyone so far bets their smart money on it being benign...I'm betting that as as well. but some folks will be relieved to get the final word.

I sent Christy a somewhat mastered cd of her concert today, and some video files; sent Lost Alamos some practice videos I had. sending Mark Bleisner a CD package tomorrow...

as if...I were slowly coming around to think about some musical projects, while healing up.

so...I do feel better, less wobbly. more ready to be me. and tomorrow, marking a week, I anticipate that trend continuing.

I woke up this morning worried about

...The Modniks' Herman's Hermits medley.

we've got a summer's worth of parks and rec gigs coming up, and I was the one who strongly recommended totally selling out, and learning some wimpy 60's stuff for the 60's age group. as if there were any level of pop I couldn't find guilty pleasure performing.

so, the H'man's H'mits medley has fallen to me to construct.

we don't dare do "Must to Avoid". we don't dare do, "Dandy". we don't dare do "Just A Little Bit Better".

and, then there are the must do's. the saving grace of those, to me, is the guitar playing, and the harmonies. if you really nail the parts on "I'm Into Something Good", you have something worth playing. and, y0u try to play that muted rhythm part on "Mrs. Brown", and you remember the chords to that bridge...

the point is, I worked on it this morning, and then again after lisa and kathy and I did our nightly guitar physical therapy session. it's wonderful to have an in-house group with a forgiving nature, to work up to speed with.

played longer, smoother, voice a little better. encouraging, after yesterday.

final tally:

"I'm Into Something Good" (C) up til instrumental, "Baby, Can't You Hear My Heartbeat" (A) one verse, "Mrs. Brown" (C) one verse, then bridge, then "No Milk Today" (Am) from the intro, perhaps through "just two up, two down", ritarding into "Listen, People" (A) one verse, into "I'm Henry VIII" with mandatory audience participation and maybe even the guitar solo (you try to play it!)

timed at 6 min. "Leaning on the Lamp" left out.

so, a little of yesterday's heaviness seems to have passed. tomorrow at 10am the staples come out, which will be a boost. I'll have a chance to check in, ask questions. most of them will be...all the stuff you said I have to do...when do I not have to do it anymore?

but those annoyances are the deepest of bargains, for what I am getting in return for them, for what it has been my profound good fortune not to have to go through. from day 1, when we thought the growth was on the spinal accessory nerve, Dr. Nemechek demonstrated with his body the way he anticipated my shoulder would come forward after the surgery...that didn't happen. I thought that half of my head being numb was what I would feel as the (well justified) price for my voice and guitar mechanisms being left intact...but daily, already, the numb circle is shrinking. my body still feels like there is anaesthesia in my lungs, steroids, the vague wobbliness...

but instead of the condition getting daily worse as it was before surgery, it is daily better.

and when I come back to doing each thing I used to do, no matter what it was, it is going to be cause for such elation in the next months, I can't even tell you.