Whatta Rush

It’s always fun to get a phone call during morning meeting from your oncologist, who you just met yesterday, and who says, “You know last night when we thought a few zaps of radiation of your cancerous lesion would be the way to go?

“Well, after more consultations with other oncologists, it’s now the consensus that we surgically remove the lesion to prevent further spread. This will also probably result in amputation of the second toe.”

“Okay, well that sounds like a party I just canNOT miss, thanks, for the invitation, I shall attend. See you in the OR!” I said.

And then I went back in and read a funny picture book to 16 first/second graders and we laughed and laughed.

So it sunk in around vaccination time seven hours later that my second toe, which arrived in the world at Eastern New Mexico Medical Center in Roswell, is set to depart it at St. Thomas West Hospital in Nashville sometime soon. Which is sort of a weird thing to think, but there it was.

Very happy the toe is making the trip without the rest of me, but yeesh. Being suddenly sucked into Cancer World is a heckuva rush.

[Sorry if I haven’t texted this news to everyone yet; it’s been rather hectic and, well, it’s hard to text someone when your head is buried under the pillows. I’ll get it together soon … orthopedic oncology surgeon scheduling is to get back to me ASAP. Thanks as always for all the love and support!]

My Cancer Journey Begins

Before Thanksgiving, I had what looked like a corn or callus appear on my third toe of the right foot. I put a few salicylic patches on it an it simply fell off sometime before Christmas.

Meanwhile, a new one appeared suddenly on the second toe joint of the left foot. It grew more rapidly and didn’t respond to salicylic acid. The top turned white, but that was about all.

At my regular doctor checkup in January, I showed him. Taking a cautious approach, he referred me to Neuhaus Podiatry in Hermitage. She took a look and offered a biopsy if I wanted. Given age and family history, I decided to biopsy. She numbed it, found a procedure punch from the bowels of the office. Blood ran, but it was pleasantly numb so no problem.

On the following Friday afternoon, Doctor Hall herself called and left a voice mail since I was teaching just then. She said: “Hi Mr. Pollock, this is Dr. Hall calling. I received the results of your biopsy that we did last Friday, and I wanted to talk to you about it so if you could please give the office a call I know you’re at your convenience I’ll be here until about 4 o’clock today. Thank you.”

It was too late to call after I got home, so I was left on tenterhooks all weekend.

I called Monday morning and the news was what I thought—but with an unexpected twist
I have a malignant carcinoma on my toe…type is Kaposi’s Sarcoma. I’m at Cumberland Skin for my first doc appointment for a treatment decision. Freezing or excision? Waiting.

Later:

I waited not very long. Then got in the room and waited for a decision. After 15 minutes and an ipad photo of my cancer taken, the nurse practitioner said we pretty much can’t help you and you need care from Vanderbilt Oncology, so we’re referring you to them and we’ll get you in as soon as possible.

A complete waste of time. 60 miles, three hours of my time that I had to make up this evening (voluntarily because we have a massively intense day tomorrow as students return to classes for the first time since December. Urk.)


It’s been more roller-coaster-y since then. Vanderbilt Dermatology had never heard of KS. (??!!??). I shouldn’t have been referred there in the first place.

Cumberland Skin’s scheduler was pretty awesome though; she called my primary care doctor, he called me, then he burned up the lines to get me into the nearest oncology center possible. My first appointment is Tuesday 23-Feb-21, 25 years and one day after my HIV+ diagnosis. Quite an anniversary.

Update coming Tuesday evening.

Bosco is Limping

Bosco started to limp today, indicating a spread of the osteosarcoma to his joint. He also just had a long episode of tremors, so now we’re on our way to NVS to try to get help to get him through the night. And snow is beginning in Nashville. So. You know. Yeah.

[And thanks everyone for all the support! It is much appreciated! He’s holding his own and the pain pills have him sorta drugged but there’s no pain. We’ll keep him in comfort until he decides to let us know what he needs. Hugs back from Hound House!]

Unhand Me, Foul Knave-Churls!

His Majesty is NOT in a mood to be recorded. Rash is gone, ears are better, but not quite there yet. Annnnddd … we discovered a cyst on the Royal Tuckus, which will be medically treated. If that doesn’t work, lancing and draining will be required and that brings forth a nightmare of epic proportions in our heads, so we churls are hoping it doesn’t come to that. Caring for Sascha AND a Roux with a tube in his tail root draining ugly things is just … inconceivable! <exhausted sigh> C’mon meds, do your stuff!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Sascha's Going Into Traction

Two days, two vet visits. Sascha, Queen of Our Hearts, seems to be steadily losing the use of her back legs. Not been a…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, December 12, 2017

[Update: She’s home resting. Ummmm. Herniated disks and arthritis and a messed up spine and has feeling lower down, but can barely move. She’s on complete bedrest for two weeks, and we’ll have to assess her quality of life and if she veers off into pain and more paralysis, welllll. Not giving up. Fighting as we always do (three times in ten years). But … yeah.
I’ve said this afternoon … rescuing senior dogs is vital, important, and deeply rewarding. They return great amounts of love unconditionally and trust you completely. But … sometimes it just sucks bigtime. I still wouldn’t … well, to quote “Steel Magnolias” … “I wouldn’t exchange thirty minutes of wonderful for a lifetime of nothin’ special.” Madame is still ruling the roost even if the roost is a forced perch on the couch. As long as she wants to do that, we think that’s pretty special.]

American Carnage: 17-Nov-17


The Diddler’s Club

What we learned this week:

• Al Franken is the latest member of the “People Who Diddled People Who Didn’t Want to be Diddled” Club. This Diddlers Club, of which we’re all so very proud, officially now consists of the nation’s President; at least two former presidents; two or three sitting United States Senators and lord knows how many more; a Supreme Court Justice; god knows how many Members of the House of Representatives and their staffs; governors of various states; members of various state legislatures, including a member in Ohio who was exercising his member with another man’s member, cheating on his wife as he attempted to pass virulently anti-LGBTQ legislation; the impeached Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court, who may become a United States Senator next month; journalists of various stripes; sports figures and commentators; Catholic priests and Protestant preachers; college professors; doctors, lawyers, indian chiefs and at least one family member. It’s quite a roster, very inclusive.

• In other words, we learned what women have been trying to tell us about the lives they have to lead because they have something every heteronormative man seems to badly want: a vagina. Also some men, because they have what every homonormative man wants: a penis.

• What’s the matter with Kansas? The hypersecretive autocratic government which took power over the last ten years operates incompetently and in «extremely secretive, weird ways».

• I missed this back in September, but one acolyte of “Christian” nutbag autocratic Bill Gothard, who has platinum status in the Diddler’s Club (and he’s in his eighties) is in trouble in Arkansas. «Kenneth L. Dewitt applied Gothard’s principles of Godly behavior while running a prison ministry for imprisoned Arkansas women. The Godly principle apparently involved Dewitt having incarcerated women come in under his “umbrella of authority” and submit to God’s plan for women: repeated diddling because … men. Dewitt is “is currently serving a five-year sentence at the Ouachita River Unit after pleading guilty to multiple charges of sexual assault of prisoners.” Gothard couldn’t be reached for comment; he was probably unreachable in a private jet giving private dictation to one of the shapely arrows in his Quiver.

• If you don’t recall the sordid details of Reality TV stars The Duggars, who were Gothard’s proudest achievement and America’s favorite voyeuristic targets (19 blond white kids, what’s not to like?!), «here’s a link from 2015 that pretty well explains the entire wreckage of Gothard’s slimy trail, stretching back to the 1950s. [Full disclosure: My parents ponied up to pay for me to go to a Gothard Basic Seminar and an Advanced Seminar back in high school. Family members have been fully involved in the “ministry” and continue to angrily defend the old goat even now that’s he’s been sued by, what, 30 or so?, abused men and diddled women. IF we were still talking to each other and IF I was masochistic enough to be there for Thanksgiving dinner, Gothard would be a topic that would have to be avoided ere blood was shed on the turkey carcass. /End disclosure.]

• One more piece of recent Gothard news: IBLP, Gothard’s “former” ministry from which he has disassociated with just like Trump, cachinged last month on the sale of a property they owned in Australia. «They scored $9.5 million U.S. dollars on a property valued at just $6 million». And they won’t even have to practice the usual offshore tax haven chicanery to avoid a hefty tax bill; they’re an American “church” and therefore exempt from taxation. Maybe they’ll have a come-to-Jesus moment and repent and spread the money among Gothard’s Diddlers Club targets. Right after the Holy Spirit heeds their prayers and pigs fly from Melbourne to Los Angeles. Aside: I love how the Aussie press just tells it like it is in this case: “US religious cult.” You have NO idea, my Aussie friends!

• I said only one more Gothard piece. I lied. There’s an article in The New Republic that discusses the … politics and peccadilloes, shall we say … of Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Little House on the Prairie fame. I mention it because Gothardites and other similar evangelical fellow travelers have always had a very weird (at least to me) fetish for the 19th century, and their worship of Wilder and Little House is repeated in a million ways over everything from Gunsmoke and John Wayne to learning how to cook like pioneer women. Some of them even submit to the kind of abuse meted out by 19th century husbands, but that’s a different paragraph. «Little House, Small Government» is a nice starter primer to this phenomenon, although it’s sadly too short to be able to explore the evangelical connection or the fetishization of dying on the Oregon Trail.

• Turning to more uplifting in the face of bigotry, abuse and violence news, there’s a fascinating account in a publication I’d never read called Emergency Physician’s Monthly. «It’s the story of what happened to one hospital’s ER team the night the NRA slaughtered some folks» listening to what now passes for “country” music. It’s a highly recommended read, as are the other articles on the site.

• Speaking of the wild frontier, the usually lily-white Outside magazine actually printed «a lament from a young man who went west» to work some seasonal jobs at Montana resorts. Why did he not have a great season? His skin color wasn’t up to snuff. (Which of course meant he worked in “housekeeping.”) The article explores his experience with the casual “lighten up” (har har, get it?) type of racism from coworkers and guests which finally wore him down and sent him packing back east to relative safety. Remarkably, his white coworkers calling each other “ni—-s” as a “joke” was about the worst that happened to him. It’s amazing he wasn’t shot or jailed; it’s even more amazing that Outside printed the report. I grieve for his loss of innocence, and hope he has all the success in life he wants. I’d also like to shake his hand; he’s braver than I.

• Closing with one Diddlers Club story that’s so fun. Ohio state rep. Wes Goodman, family values warrior and, of course, Republican, resigned his seat after he was caught using his state office for some consensual diddling with a person who was not his wife and not a woman. Yes, yet another one of those “Fags must die! If you agree, meet me in my car at the local park for some cocksucking followed by the signing of a petition demanding the death penalty for fag kissing!” kind of people, as usual, hoisted on his own petard, or his boyfriend’s whatever. As someone quipped on Twitter, “Goodman’s wife is probably so pissed, he’s having to move into a log cabin!” (Get it? Log Cabin Republicans are the gay ones who haven’t figured out yet that they support a party which has members who seriously, sincerely, would go Leviticus on their gay, rich asses given half a chance. Goodman’s website has been scrubbed today; but the good old friend, the Wayback Machine, is providing nice clear copies of things the good man has written. Unfortunately, his Twitter account has been locked down, but that’s not a barrier either. Here’s Wes’ priceless take on the Family: “Healthy, vibrant, thriving, values-driven families are the source of Ohio’s proud history and the key to Ohio’s future greatness. The ideals of a loving father and mother, a committed natural marriage, and a caring community are well worth pursuing and protecting.” Oh, how fun. Don’t you love closet cases who talk about “vibrant, thriving” committed natural marriages when the only thing that’s actually “vibrant and thriving” is their relationship to their boyfriends’ cocks? Little Wes is a cutie. He and Aaron Schock, if that old gym queen manages to avoid prison, should totally get together. They’d make a truly hot, power Log Cabin Republican partnership. I hope Wes is a bottom, ’cause I doubt Aaron lets just anyone go balls-deep on his bleached ass.

• And, oh yeah, there was another NRA nutbag gun attack. It is now officially news if a mass shooting does NOT occur on any given day.

So, ain’t our America nation grand? After reading all this stuff (and then writing about it) I feel extremely … greasy. Like the country has gone much bukkake all over my gay face. I need a bath and some penicillin. And this country is 100%, pure Grade A, psycho nuts insane, from the demented consummate con man in the White House to … well just about everyone else. Not at ALL what I thought living in the U.S. during my middle age would be like. Can’t wait to become elderly. ‘Cause that shit is also seriously fucked up in major ways too.

Good night, y’all.


[Text by HawkEye. Photo by Vlad Tchompalov via Unsplash.]

More Ugly Hospital Cactus Booties

Guess what came back with me from Minnesota? Yup, the ugly green hospital cactus booties. But for some reason, His…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Monday, February 15, 2016

I Have a Brain!

The whole Minnesota experience was mostly Minnesota Nice, always efficient and highly effective. It was also at times…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Monday, February 15, 2016

Ugly Cactus Green Hospital Booties. Yes, Again.

[Posting all this here for everyone, 'cause my phone is temporarily misplaced. Thanks for understanding.]Guess what's…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, February 6, 2016

Ugly Cactus Green Hospital Booties. Part Deux.

Again with the teal booties; at least this time, they match the chair!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Huggy Bear

I WANT this thing. It has a hose that hooks to your gown and it blows cold or hot air up your jumper. Called "Bear Paws," it's pretty awesome.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Pokey Pokey!

Pokey pokey!!! Here we go!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Et Sanavit Omnes

"Et Sanavit Omnes." Lobby of St. Mary's Hospital, Rochester, while waiting on my escort to the spot I've been trying to get to for 12 years."Et sanavit omnes" translated: "And he healed them all"

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Good Morning St. Mary's!

Good morning, St. Mary's and Mayo! Two degrees, huh? Beautiful day for yank/slice/dice! Let's get it on!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Bye Bye Alien

Remember that movie from 1979, "Alien" ? THIS is how I've felt for 12 years. It's time to take out the trash, you alien adrenal. Hope Dr. McKenzie and his team can handle this thing!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

A Fun Little Video While We Wait

Hey! Wanna see what the excellent Mayo endocrinological surgical team will be doing to me at 10 this morning? No? Then…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Farewell Doc!

As Sinatra would say, "So make it one for my baby and one more for the road."Farewell Dr. Pepper! I'll see you in recovery around noon! 󾌳

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Farewell to My Little Friends

A few hours ago, I took the final dose of the drug that has kept my adrenal glands in check dor over six years. Why…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 5, 2016

Mayo History Room: 1880s Beagle Reading Chair

I knew this place and I would get along when I saw the history museum and found out the Mayo brothers had a reading…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Thursday, February 4, 2016

Uh Oh.

In the clinic's history museum.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Thursday, February 4, 2016

My Home for the Next Eight Hours

My home for the next eight hours. Spiffy.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Ugly Cactus Green Hospital Booties

Booties. Not my color.

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

It's What Time??!!

Mayo's St. Mary's Hospital admitting area is like an airport at 5:30 in the morning. Now boarding: Passengers carrying small, screaming adrenal glands in need of chastisement, gate 2. Board!

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Good Morning Rochester!

Good morning, Rochester! Blizzard coming, ready?

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Good Morning Adrenal Glands!

Good morning, adrenal glamds. We have a surprise for you! (5 am…SUCH an ugly time to get outta bed!)

Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Snow's A-Comin'!

The sun is gone, swallowed by white fog. Flag is limp on the mast. Blizzard warning begins at 6. The sun is not hidden;…

Posted by Steve Pollock on Monday, February 1, 2016

36 Hours

36 hours from now, my cholocystectomy should be finished and I should be floating on a cloud of anesthetic and pain killer. Can’t happen soon enough for me. There’s a 10-mm stone in there and I’ve been on a fat-free diet for two months. I’ll keep most of the diet, but hopefully lose all the nausea and occasional pain I’ve been experiencing.

Laparascopic surgery is a wonderful invention. I remember my aunt having this surgery back in the 1970s; she was in the hospital for two weeks. I should be back home by nightfall, as long as the good folks at «John Muir Concord» and my surgeon, «Dr. Mary Cardoza», do things up right.

Usually, this kind of thing would bother me, but I’m ready to get going. No real anxieties or concerns.

We’re still waiting on insurance approval for my trip to the Mayo Clinic. More on that later.

Nemesis

Having gone outside to let the beagle do his thing, and counting how many times I’ve sneezed in the past fifteen minutes, I have to think that my old nemesis — spring allergies — has returned.