It Might Get Messy

Last February, I presented myself at my GP’s office with the swollen throat and tongue and impaired speech. He took one look and ran—actually ran—upstairs to the nearest throat specialist willing to look at me. Which the guy did. That guy subsequently panicked and called Greater Baltimore Medical Center and the Johns Hopkins Throat Cancer specialists to try to get me in that night. On my way out of his office, the throat guy said “just in case you want some hope that it’s an infection and not a malignancy, here’s a prescription”. I filled the prescription, started the course the next morning. A few hours later it was confirmed that it was cancer and I dropped the med. The stuff he gave me was an antibiotic called Fluconazole. I was reminded of this when my oncologist diagnosed my painful tongue as due to childhood favorite “thrush”. Which, it turns out, is a fungal—actually yeast—infection. Thus the new scrip my oncologist wrote this week for a higher dose tablet says “This medicine is used to treat vaginal yeast infections”. That’s pretty much it. 


But it seems to be working. After two doses, my pain is less and the ropey throat mucous isn’t as bad. Dr. H is just smegging awesome!


Last night I had a dream that I ate a whole pizza. After I was done, I wondered how I managed it by mouth instead of feeding tube. Then I woke up to the reality that it was an Instant Breakfast shake and more UN emergency rations by tube. Sigh.


Also last night, I finished the Gospel of Luke. Now I’m into the Gospel of John. It’s a long one, and takes some slugging to get through. Ah, but there’s the big reward waiting—my annual foray into the Revelation of John. Psychedelia like the Grateful Dead could only wish for.


Tomorrow night (I’m writing this on Friday evening), after the crowd leaves from the crab balls, shrimp, ravioli and ham dinner, I hope to have everything wrapped and under the tree so I can settle in to watch the Midnight Mass from the Vatican. It’s fabulous. They have a creepy little porcelain Jesus that is apparently by some famous post-medieval porcelain house. It’s frightening.


Finally, I hope all of you have a wonderful, wonderful holiday with whatever family and friends you’ve got around. I know I’m just glad to be here for this one, having come through disease and treatment, either of which could have, with a slight miscalculation on anyone’s part, especially me, have seen me not here to send my love to you this holiday. But I’m alive. And I’m damned grateful for it, and for all of you out there, giving me strength to fight through the darkness. Thanks all. I love you. Talk to you around New Year’s!