Courage

I said back in 2023 that it would be my last post on my cancer from 30 years prior (at that time). And it is - in term of those regards and specifics. 

In two days, it will be 33 years of being being cleared of Chondrasarcoma. 

But today also brings together three things I love - being cancer free. running. the Hip. 

Terry Fox was a Canadian athlete who became a cancer research activist. Having one leg amputated due to cancer, he had a goal to run across the entire length of Canada to raise money and awareness for cancer research......on an artificial leg.  

This would be prosthetic technology from 1980, not Oscar Pistorius swag. You know, minus the gun and the girlfriend in the bathroom thing. 

The Marathon of Hope. 

His goal: $1 for every Canadian citizen - at the time, 24 million.

Starting in Newfoundland, he would eventually run westward every day for 143 days and over 3,300 miles (almost a full marathon every single day!) before having to abandon his quest - as his cancer returned. He would die about eight months later, but having raised almost $2M for cancer research. 

From there on, there would be Terry Fox Runs throughout Canada - and then spreading to the US,  Europe and Asia - to continue awareness and fundraising. 

As of January 2026, over $1Billion has been raised in his name. With a B. 

At some point I want to be part of that fundraising. I want to be part of one of those runs. It hits close to home for me. I got to keep my leg and my life. 

In 2025, the Tragically Hip gladly allowed the Terry Fox Foundation use their song "Courage" for an ad to promote their runs. Hip lead singer, Gord Downie, died almost a decade before this ad of cancer himself. 

The music provided on the video is the final verse/chorus from yesterday's posted song, but stripped down to only vocal and piano. 

YouTube brought up the ad for me months ago and anytime it pops up, I watch. Every single time. Start to finish. 

Song by: the Tragically Hip

Bones

"It's a tumor".  

It's not just a paraphrased line for a shitty Schwarzenegger movie. Well, allegedly. I never actually saw the movie. 

No, orthopaedic surgeons use the line as well...........usually with less laughs. I'm assuming. As I said, I never saw the movie. It's all in the delivery, I suppose. 

No one in the room in which I was was laughing, that's for fucking sure. 

A month or so before that semi-diagnosis one shitty radiology tech, who fucked up my abdominal films, fucked up, and yet, saved my life. Due to his incompetence, got a shot of my leg, which turns out had "a shadow"!

The first doc I saw gave me the opening line. And then a referral to specialists. Because nothing brews confidence like having to see an orthopaedic oncologist......and one who insisted I see him the very next day.  Yay me. 

Months of tedious, and sometimes painful testing led to the diagnosis we all knew was coming by this point. Each CT, MRI, Bone Scan and Bone Bx kept leading down one path. 

That path basically ended 30 years ago, this day. 

Yes, I had bone cancer. A sarcoma. One embedded in my right femur. Malignant, dontcha know. You have to say that word, like Alec Baldwin did as an incompetent doctor on an SNL skit 20+ years ago, before he became a bloated Irish breeder who killed production assistants.......and his career. 

30 years ago, I had the tumor, and most of my femur removed, only to be replaced by a cadaver bone and a steel plate and nine screws......as you can see. 

I got nailed by more guys than Jesus Christ. 

What?  It's not like he's going to let me join his little club.

The discussions beforehand were simple and daunting. This was THE option. There'd be no chemo. No radiation. Not before nor after. There would be no reason. If they couldn't get it all, my chances were slim.

Oddly enough, I was down with that. I'd already worked with those types patients, and quality of life sucks and it all ended the same way anyway. Quality of life over quantity. 

710 drove me to the hospital, but couldn't stay. He had finals. And there was nothing he could do for me anyways and he couldn't hang in pre-op with me. Surgery took way longer than expected. 

I'd say "long story short....", but we passed that threshold a while ago, eh?....it turns out the surgery worked!  Because, well, I'm still here. Albeit, one that sometimes limps, sometimes experiences pain and one that can definitely feel the ends of some of the screws that are close to the hip. I can also predict low fronts.  That THAT Al Roker!

Yes, it took months of rehab to walk without crutches or a cane, but look, 30 short years later and I'm running!! Granted, it's the slowest rehab in the history of medicine, but......here I am. 

I'll give it to my friends - all along the way they made me laugh and keep things light.....from first call, through going to the bars with me on crutches. It turns out "bone cancer" is a boner killer, so I just fucked with people and told them it was a bungee jump accident gone awry.  It also turns out, it's tough to drink / hold a beer while on crutches  But........I'm a survivor.......I'm a survivor. 

As it turns out, you can make your mother burst into tears when she gets you a pair of pants for the holidays and you come back with: "two legs?? what am I going to do with pants that have TWO legs?!"

I've blogged over the years on this, but today is 30 years. I'm officially retiring this thread. I mean, should I get another cancer, I'm sure I'll revisit this to a degree, but for specifically to my leg - the right one - I'm done writing about this. 

My takeaway is two-fold, I suppose. One: enjoy your time. We never know.....anything. You'd think I'd have made the most of mine, and in cretain aspects I have, others I've fretted too much about.  Two: if one can overcome malignant bone cancer, there is hope for so many other cancers. Not a lot of folks survive things like bone or brain cancers. 

I'd say "it takes a positive attitude", but have you met me?  I think being a realist / fatalist actually did help me mentally during this time.  A sense of humour will do you a world of good too. In general. 

Song by: the Killers

Die Another Day

Boo fucking Hoo.

When I first heard Rush Limbaugh had advanced cancer, my first thought was, "how advanced?".

I ask for a few reasons.

I don't want one those Valerie Harper, "I've got 3 months to live" and then last six years.  I mean, I wanted Rhoda to live. I really don't care for Rush to hang around any longer than necessary.

Yettttttt.........I on the other hand, a slow and painful disease state and death sounds good too.

Should you have not yet figured it out, I'm not one of those calling for civility in the name of Limbaugh having cancer. The online folks who say, "I don't care for him either, but don't wish this upon him".

Well, I didn't wish it upon him, yet here we are.

The man in question mocked Michael J. Fox's Parkinson's. He also showed a picture of Clinton's cat and said they had a dog too - and show a picture of a teen aged Chelsea. Made fun of RGB's cancer. Yet other's are supposed to take the high road.

FUCK THAT.

I suppose I could be the poster boy for Melanoma's #bebest campaign, but since her fucking turd of a husband doesn't believe in her pet project, I feel vindicated and off the hook.

Listen, Limbaugh's stances could all be an act to make $$$, but that means little. He's got his legion of assholes and haters who look up to whomever they think the man to be - the man who has let them think these things.

I'm not saying Rush deserves to die, but since he is (allegedly - and I still think it could be some fucking act) then I won't give thoughts and prayers. I won't be kind, I don't need to be. He hasn't and maybe - even if almost too late - he'll know how his actions have repercussions.

Anyway, I don't feel bad for him and nothing anyone can say would make me feel differently.



Song by: Madonna

Swallow It

My first thought when getting this email regarding throat cancer due to oral sex was the graphic.

"Just gulp, honey. You don't have to feel it go down......unless you want to, of course."

I'll be honest, I didn't click on the link. Ok, actually I did, but the link didn't work.

I love how Cleveland Clinic think women actually perform oral sex. They'd pretend to (or rather) have throat cancer to avoid having to go down on a guy.

I mean - that's what I've heard. I don't really have any frame of reference.....except what I read or hear about on sitcoms. But I don't think a big selling point in a major marketing health care campaign is that some guys like to swallow.

And I'm assuming - again, no experience - that you can't really show a guy going down on a girl in your trifold brochure. Or a virtual one. So that scenario is out.

I would love to have been at the marketing table the first time this was thrown out.....or agreed upon. Oh, how the conversations must have gone.

I'm guessing - and it's only a guess - that the Otolaryngology department is probably working a little harder on their development campaign today.



Song by: Brandon Flowers

Bad Liver and a Broken Heart

Oh, all us drunks make liver jokes now and then.

It's not quite as funny when two people tell you they have liver cancer. Then it's just awkward.

The thing is with cancer of the liver, many (but not all) people just don't get just that. Cancer that metastasizes to the liver usually has another source.

For one friend of mine, a blogger buddy, it was from breast cancer. She has known it had spread to both her liver and her spine. There was no way to stop it. It's quite sad.

You've read about Birdie here and here. You've possibly even been to her blog, when she had the energy to do her writing.

Betty was her real name and she was a woman of g-d, but a fierce supporter of gay rights and same-sex marriage. And I was sorry to hear she lost her battle with cancer two days ago.

She had sent me a message earlier in the week saying that Hospice had been arranged for a three to six month time frame. She didn't make it a week.

Betty's absence will be felt. It has been in the last few months already, as her energies have been going towards fighting her disease - as they should.

My other friend, well, finding out this was a little more unexpected. He was having pain in his gut. A scan showed multiple tumors on the liver, which led to wider scans. Sure enough, he has colon cancer, which spread to his liver.

Before he knew about the latter cancer, he went into dying mode, but not 'woe is me'.  More like: "I gave away most of my clothes, some really nice first edition books and I scrapped my music room and bought a fold out bed for the nurse I'll hire to take care of me in my final days".

I thought it all a bit premature, and told him so. He hadn't even seen an oncologist. Actually, he hadn't even had the second scan to confirm he had colon cancer. He researched ways to kill himself, so not to die a horrible death.

If he weren't so butch, I'd call him a big old queen....even though he's younger than myself. Barely.

So, he started on three different chemotherapies - two IV, one via pill. The onc doc said the tumors on his liver and in his colon should start shrinking with the first infusion.

Yes, the chemo made him weird. Neuropathy in the hand. Queasy. Lots of pain. But in the first two weeks, he no longer has pain in his abdomen. The tumor markers are down to 21 from 89. The normal level is <2.5, so he's on his way.

He had the second round of chemo this last week, to which I got this lovely text....

Allllllrighty!!!

But doubtful we'll be seeing that PSA anytime soon.

Never having chemo after my sarcoma, I don't know all the side-effects, let alone regarding the ones of pleasuring yourself. And the side-effects are different for each patient.

So, it looks like out of two friends, one might survive. Neither position is enviable, but admire both for different reasons. I will miss one greatly, while learning how to be more appreciative of my friendship with the other.

Stupid liver.



Song by: Tom Waits

Flesh and Bone

Sometimes I just lose track of time.

Last week was 21 years since I had my cancer surgery, effectively making it 21 years since I've been cancer free.

There was no radiation. No chemo. If they couldn't get the entire tumor there was nothing they could truly do for me. But they got it.

I think the last time I wrote about it was two years ago. I also touched on it in 2008 and 2006.  But you know, this just might be the last of them.  How long can I milk this as a blog post?

I'm thinking 4-5 times in 11 years is enough.  Wow - half my survivor time has been blogging time too. Who knew?

I decided to gross you out with external images this time. Last time is was an x-ray of my pins and plate. (and my peen.....if you look closely enough).

But surgery is an ugly beast. And painful. Though it might be argued that removing of the staples and the growing back of my hair on my legs was as equally (say it like Snape!) painful.

Actually, the most difficult thing was learning how to step over the two inch lip of the shower base. Do I put my weak leg over that lip first, making me bear weight on it as the good leg follows?  Or do I put the good leg in first and have to hop the bad leg in with the risk of slipping?

They didn't teach me this in physical therapy - just how to get up and down stairs.  ....not helpful!

My father HATED taking these pictures of me. Not because his son was now a scarred monster or that he was diagnosed with a malignant cancer.  No, having your son hike up his tighty whities for a picture or two was never in his Parent's Manual.

Clearly the lighting was better in the post-staple removal image - and I played with the settings for the one with the staples, so imagine how much it looked before I lightened it up for you.

You're welcome.

The two "dots" you see at the bottom of the scar are where my drain was to get rid of extra fluid.  Pretty- huh?

I still have all those scars, though they have lightened up considerably, and that hair has grown back. Not grown back on the scar, but around the scar. I'm just so hairy, there is a comb-over like technique that hides it all unless I swim or shower and they get wet. Then all bets are off.

I'm good with showing off my scars. They are a weird badge of honour.

My internal med doc loves looking at them. Go figure. Almost every visit he asks to see them, on the premise to see how I'm doing - even if it is not cancer check-up related.

Since my cancer wasn't external, I'm not sure what he'd glean from eye-balling my right leg, but hey, if it makes him feel better, he can knock himself out.  If he's getting other jollies from seeing my hairy gam(s), well, I don't think it's billable, so I hope he just makes sure to lock his office door after I leave.

There is little to no risk of recurrence. The tumor is gone. Hell, my femur is gone along with it.  But I'm finding out I can't use that much as an excuse for stuff.

In yoga, this very nice woman was bemoaning not being able to do poses. I was trying to be encouraging by saying of course she could, as I can with a plate and nine pins.  But she had to one-up me on the number of additional pins and plates she has.

David just looked at me like "you can't top that one!"  ...and I couldn't. Somehow in the war of disease, I'd lost this one. And I lost by winning. It was all very strange.

Yes, I think this is my retirement from cancer update posts. But feel free to come back and enjoy the leg shots.



Song by:  the Killers

The Survivors

I am sorry to say that I get annoyed at those specials and telethons that take over the airwaves - and I mean every airwave.  I don't want to pay extra for HBO for the same thing I can see on the WB. 

I have nothing bad to say about StandUp2Cancer, because let's face it, I know first hand how tough it is and can be.  ...and it would make me sound like a heel to say anything else. 

But I don't see why anyone thinks that having to watch Coldplay perform will make me want to part with my hard earned dough. 

Sure it's great they're raising money for the disease, I guess........but it's Coldplay. Haven't these cancer victims suffered enough?

Personally, I blame Osama bin Laden and Jerry Lewis for these shows. The latter for all those crappy crappy MS telethons and the former for the WTC fund - which I would LOVE to know where that money went. 

For the settlement that was given to the 9/11 victims families, equal monies were taken off from the government award if they received other donations. I'm assuming that telethon donated monies to somewhere. 

But as those immediate days after 9/11 passed and we sat and watched Julia Roberts ask you for $$$, I was on the phone with Becky and she had me laughing for the first time since that day, when she called and opened with, "I don't know I feel about giving Al Pacino my credit card number".  

True that!

And I'm good about trying to give to the right charities. Morty did his cancer bike ride last month and I shelled out for that. I'm always proud of him for that event and happy to contribute.  ....but something about these massive telethons bugs me in how they manipulate people to contribute. 

Sure, the end result is that more funds go to research and treatment - allegedly. 

In a way, it'd be fun to have a Survivor t-shirt, but the design is so f'ugly - and it looks like my left armpit survived cancer. And I have always felt weird about being a survivor. It seems boastful to say it and almost disrespectful to those who did not survive. 

I know - I know, people will tell me otherwise, but for me, it just seems uncomfortable to say, let alone walk around with a t-shirt telling everyone.  But there should be more survivors and if talking about it brings exposure to the situation, it can't be all bad - you just have to answer a lot of questions, and maybe that is the weird part for me. 

But I did not stand up to cancer last night. I sat on my hairy ass, nursed my cold and watched whatever was on the DVR. 

Song by: the Pet Shop Boys

19

Monday (what? I couldn't miss My Music Monday, could I?) would have been 19 years since I became cancer free.

I'd like to say my baldness was the result of chemo or radiation, but it is really just hereditary. I didn't even have chemo or radiation for my cancer. The thought, at the time, was if they couldn't successfully cut it out, there wasn't much else they could do for me.

On March 5, 1993, my doc put me under to cut out part of my right femur, oh and the malignant tumor.  The plan was to take the tumor out of there, use some bone from my hip to replace it and send me on my way.

Ok - that might be a bit too simplistic of an explanation, but the result ended up being the doc needing to take much more femur than expected for the hip solution to work. Instead, I have cadaver bone in me.

Spoooooooky.  No wonder my apartment at the time was haunted.

What you see is my actual post-op xray.  I have no light box in our house, because 710 doesn't want to display this like art - like I do - so I just held it up in the bathroom and took the pic.

Nice pelvic bone, no?

The radiology technician put a lead sack on my sac, you know, to keep me from being damaged - like I was going to have kids in the first place! To be fair, how would she have known?  Anyway, if you enlarge the pic you might be able to see that, welllllllll, she didn't cover everything.  It's not like they ever made a lead bag that big to cover Blobby Jr.  Something was bound to spill over the side. ....and it does.

And yes, that plate and those nine screws are still firmly in place, though if you want to get grossed out, you can feel some of the upper screws when I walk. 710 does not like that at all.

I am not an animal!!!!

For some reason, now and again, the leg vibrates. It's not painful, it just buzzes like once every 10 seconds.  Sometimes it just goes on for minutes, sometimes for hours.  And don't discount the fact that most times I can predict the low-front that is 12-36 hours out.  It might not always rain or snow, but the low front? it's a-comin'.

Now and again I get checked-up, but it's safe to say that I remain cancer-free.

I've written about this since the beginning of this blog and it is even beginning to bore me. I just came across the xray and it coincided with my surgery date.

Man, I really want that light box.


Song by: Paul Hardcastle

I Want a Cure

I totally forgot to mention that Morty did his third bike ride for curing cancer.

Pelotonia is a fundraiser from Ohio State University's James Cancer Center that gives 100% of it's proceeds to helping cure cancer.

There are a number of rides on can do in length of time and distance, but Morty does the longest:  two days and about 160 miles.  I'm always impressed by his high endurance races, be it marathon, triathlon or Iron Man.  I'm even more impressed when he does it for charity.

Pelotonia took place a few weeks ago and raised almost $9.4MM.  Not too shabby.

Morty's note after the fact had some great and touching anecdotes of this two days.  He did the ride for any number of people he knows who has or has had cancer.  Myself included.

I donate because it is the right thing to do and I know I couldn't make that ride.  I donate because I believe in Morty and what he is doing.  I donate because I was treated at the facility that would eventually become the James. Trifecta!!!!

Like Morty, I have known so many people who have had the big C over the years and it can be devastating.  But I love that there is hope.

There used to be a time that anyone you heard who had it eventually lost their battle.  I am happy to say that is no longer the case.

My father, three of my sisters and myself - I know! Right? - all survived their bouts.  Some of us had more severe forms or prognosis than the others.  I don't knock their having to deal with cancerous moles and skin that needed to be removed, I have seen that deteriorate to horrible things.

But I am ok to report that some of us come through with success - even if it is a harder road.  It makes us who we are and potentially gives hope to others.   I say this specifically for a blogger friend who is going through her own challenge as we speak.  She is the kind of person who will conquer.

So - is there a cure?  For some forms of the disease and in some people, sure.  That might not seem like a lot, but it is all we have.  And it is more than we had even 20 years ago.

And with people like Morty, hopefully in the near future, even more success.  So I wanted to publicaly thank Morty and all his peeps for their participation in all of this. They didn't save my life, but someone before them did and they will do it for someone else. 



Song by:  Rosanne Cash

Broken Bicycles

Today my friend Morty is riding in a bike race. I'm not sure it's a race as much as an event. I guess it's a Bike Tour for Cancer Research. It's called Pelotonia - which is just downright hard to say, if you axe me. ...and I'm not sure it really means anything.

The 180 mile ride benefits the James Cancer Hospital at Ohio State University. The James, as we call it, was just being built when I had my cancer surgery. ..and I worked with the Oncology units before the James was built too - so I have a close association with what Morty is doing.

Oh - and I have a close association with Morty, so there's that.

So, mile 130 is dedicated to me - or so he says. I razzed him a little bit about riding for those who lost their lives to cancer. I had to mention it was about the survivors too. That's what the research is about - to make us all survivors.

But he's not dedicating mile 130 because I lived. It's because I ponied up $100 for his ride. It is so totally worth it. He's a rock star in so gathering more than $2,400 for this trek.

I'm so proud of the man, it's beyond words.

He's impressive anyways, you know with his fourteen dozen marathons and triathlons and iron mans he's participated in. But he'll always be my friend, the lovable drunk who used to live next door to me - and help save my life from that pesky ruptured appendix.

So Morty - have a great ride. Oh and do not put Ben Gay on your taint afterwards. Totally a bad move. ...um.........I've heard.


Song by: Tom Waits