Monthly Archives: September 2008


My CAT Scan (Computerized Axial Tomography or CT Scan) was performed on Friday – pelvis, abdominal and a chest x-ray. The man-nurse told us it was just because we were new patients and the doctor liked doing chest x-rays on new patients, but we’d done our research.

They were checking to see if the cancer had spread…..

I hate needles. I hate needles more than anything. I would first eat mashed potatoes from between a homeless man’s buttcheeks using only my mouth and tongue as silverware than take a needle in my own. I would rather shoot a shotglass of footsweat than “just feel a little stick”. I would rather fall down a flight of stairs blindfolded than to lay my eyes on one of those thin sliver needles…..SYRINGES. Ug. Just THINKING the word makes my toes wiggle.

Anyway, I digress. Last week they gave me powdered Barium. This is the stuff you drink and it lights your insides up like a Christmas tree in the CT scan. I have to drink 64 oz. of this radioactive potion before my appointment.

My wife says they probably won’t have to “stick me” since I’d been drinking the Berry-Yum. This pleases me….I hate needles.

I show up and the first thing the man-nurse says is, “Ok, we’re gonna get ya hooked up with a chest X-ray, then we’re gonna plug ya into an IV real quick and do a Cat Scan.

My day just dropped from around a possible 4/10, to about a 2/10. An EYE-VEE!!!??? Those things are like the giraffes of needles. The mother brain of pain.
I ask the doctor if there’s a bathroom around and he points me off down the hallway.

I tell him I’ll be right back. I tell him I’ve just got to go have a quick panic attack.

They poke me. They scan me. They X-ray me (not in that order) and then we go eat pancakes at IHOP.

My day has just gone up to a 3/10.

Now we wait all weekend to see the results. How is my cancer? Has it spread? Lung cancer? Stomach cancer? Liver cancer? Has it gone to my lymph nodes? Will I die in six months? If it’s spread what is my chance of survival? Research tells us that depending on what it is, it could be anywhere from 30% – 93%.
It rests on our minds all weekend, but we push it back by playing mini-golf.

Monday I take a half day and we drive to the urologist.

He tells us that I have Stage 1 cancer. That’s Stage 1 of 3.

He tells us it hasn’t spread.

He tells us it’s all good news.

My day is a 10/10.

I walk out of the doctor’s office and hug my wife.

Today is not my day to die.

We posted a while ago telling everyone we’d postponed the shoot. We said that maybe later on we’d be able to look back and go, “HEY!…It really WAS better that we didn’t do it late September.”

There ya go. Shooting a film and dealing with this at the same time would have been disastrous.

CANCER?…….but I’m a Virgo…

I was peeing the other day and felt a lump on my testicle.

Oh no…

I went to the doctor and he felt the lump and didn’t know what it was so he sent me to a specialist – a urologist.

I went there today – on my birthday.

The urologist told me to pull down my pants and underwear. I just kept thinking, “I hope he doesn’t try and give me an oral exam…..”

I told him it was a little touchy, a little tender. He started to squeeze and I said, “whoa – I said tender”.

He tells me his ultra sound guy is in and he wants to give me the once over so I follow him into a room where a little Indian (India Indian, not Native American) man stands in a white lab coat.

In his thick Indian / Apu from the Simpson’s accent he says to me, “Please pull down your pants and underwear and sit up here”.

He pats the table with the white paper and I drop em and hop up.

He picks up my weiner and says, “Here, hold this, but don’t pull on it”. I’m not sure what he means, but I comply.

He says, “I’m going to apply the jelly” and as he’s lubing me up for the procedure, I say, “Hey man, you’ve got the best seat in the house”.

He smiles, but not because he thinks it’s funny. He smiles because he’s a polite Indian man.

He starts rubbing the laser gun all over me and I’m watching the screen and I’ve got the urge to shout, “Is it a boy or a girl – NO WAIT! – don’t tell me, I don’t wanna know!” but decide against it. I don’t think he’ll get it.

He takes a bunch of black and white photos of my testicle, tells me to wipe myself off and go wait in Room 3.

The doctor comes in and tells me I’ve got a tumor and the testicle has to go.


But I don’t even smoke……ALTHOUGH, I HAVE suspected that my testicle has been sneaking cigarettes with my butthole for quite some time now….

I’m thinking, “These things happen to friends of my friends – these things happen to people I don’t know. These things don’t happen to ME.

GOOD NEWS – 98% survivability. APPARENTLY, if you’re going to have cancer, this is the one to go with. Brain, liver, stomach, skin, bones – testicle is the one you WANT!



Tell em what he’s won, Johnny!

You’ve WON……A NEW CAR!……Truthfully, Announcer Guy, I really could have went for the winning lottery ticket or Ed McMahon’s giant cardboard check. Heck, I would have settled for a used toaster oven to be honest…

I spent some time this morning being very angry. Angry at lots of different things. But now I’m sort of feeling like……really this is more of a nuisance than anything – I just want to get back to……….normal. I’m hoping we can just move through this and have it exit our lives as quickly as it entered.

I plan to talk about it and write about it and say it’s name:


Say it with me. If we don’t say it, if we treat it like a secret, it gains power over us – like Voldemort – and that, friends and neighbors, will not be happening this year.

MORE GOOD NEWS – next year’s birthday has GOT to be better.

Now listen – I don’t want sympathy – sympathy implies that we’ve lost.

I want battle cries……cuz we’re gonna scalp this bitch.

You are not welcome here.