Thomas James Clarke, Jr.

May 22,1968- November 10,2007.

Thank you for all of your support, thoughts and prayers.

October 18,2007

Hello,

We would like to thank so many of you for all of your wonderful emails filled with thoughts and prayers. Many of you have asked for updates.

Tom is still fighting, with everything else working against him, his 39 year old heart keeps him here with us. Our Dr. has been there every step of the way trying to keep him comfortable however as she said there is only so much we can do.

I do read any email correspondence to him, so please feel free to email any messages.

Thanks
Melissa

UPDATE ON TOM

Hello Everyone,

This is to update you on Tom's condition. On Sept. 22 he was re-admitted into hospice. He currently sleeping most of the days, he has lost use of his legs due to disease progression into the bones which we found out a couple of weeks ago. Plus various other issues. Our Dr. has told us we have days, however Tom's age and his heart are keeping him here with us so we really don't know.

The times when Tom is awake, vary from inability to communicate to a classic Tom Clarke comments/joke.

We appreciate everyone's thoughts and prayers.

Thank you,
Melissa

Not Dying Fast Enough

Well, I went to the doctor I said, "I'm feeling kind of rough"
He said, "Let me break it to you, son",
Your shit's fucked up."
I said, "my shit's fucked up?" Well, I don't see how--"
He said, "The shit that used to work-- It won't work now."

That amazing Grace sort of passed you by.
Then you wake up Every day you and hang your head and cry.
Yeah, you wanna die , But you just can't quit
Let me break it on down,
That's some fucked up shit.

--Warren Zevon, My Shit's Fucked Up, Life'll Kill Ya, (1999)

Speaking seriously, that's what happened. Didn't die, wasn't deteriorating fast enough. If you die or seriously deteriorate within 60 days you're out. They of course didn't of spring these rules on us until about Day 56. "Look at the the time; time for you to go" as my 7 year old says.

So, I'm back at home, having a 1st floor shower installed at considerable expense which would be even more if contractor friends of ours weren't doing the labor gratis. So back and forth between home and mom and Dad's place to try to get some sleep. Now I'm using the cane quite a bit more and sleeping more. More painkillers . A total of 55 pills a day now. Still, it's a hell a better being at home than hanging out with a bunch of 85 year olds. 19 of them "passed on" while I was there. So my shit's fucked up: Just not fucked up enough for hospice.

The Worst People In the World 2007

"The Lone Ranger fought for law and order in the early west. I killed morons. Still do."

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, A Memoir, Bill Bryson, page 63, (2006).

"Sue the Bastards!"

Victor J. Yannacone, Jr., Speech, East Lansing, Michigan, April 22 1970

Like Sallie Mae. And their ilk. (P.S. ---Don't you love that phrase? and their ilk?)

Student lenders are and their collectors have to be some of the lowest forms of life out there. Somewhere slightly ahead of amoebas, but definitely behind ants.

I have a loan with Sallie Mae, and have faithfully made payments for over ten years. I recently reread the the contract, and discovered that because I was disabled, my loans were to be forgiven, ad I no longer had to make payments. All I had to was send in the the paperwork, and voila! No more student loans. (They have to discharge the loans upon death of the the lendee, anyway).

So in February, shortly after being given my Last of my x months to live forecasts, I started going through my financial affairs and discovered the dischargeability of the the student loans. My oncologist quickly (within a week filled ) out the other paperwork, and I waited (The sixty days) which they are allowed to make a decision, meanwhile not making payments because I was not required to. (Now, I understand that they get to make their own independent evaluation of my condition, But when your oncologists are calling it quits, what do think the answer is going to be?) 120 days later, I started getting telephone calls demanding payment . When I explained that discharge was under consideration the person on the other end of the phone told me that decision had been made and been denied. When I inquired as to when this decision had been made, and on what basis) I couldn't get a straight answer.

Of course, you can never get an answer as to whom you are speaking to, they say tell them you spoke Bob1178K4". Yeah that's gonna get me real far when I'm trying to straighten out my credit rating or my wife's. Even the "Supervisors" don't have real names. I just tell them I can't speak to people who don't have last names , addresses or direct dial telephone numbers. When I did finally receive the letter, the claim made by Sallie Mae was that someone other than my doctor had filled out the form. I did check with my oncologist and he was pissed. He confirmed that he had filled out the form. I wrote the legal department around June 15 and indicated that if they didn't figure it out I (Or my estate would) sue if this matter was not immediately cleared up. Of course, I have not a word from them since sending the letter.

If you or your loved one (whether or not the loan was with Sallie Mae) is interested is in possibly suing these goons for breach of contract, fraud, etc. please leave a comment with an e-mail where I can get a hold of you.

Innummeracy

The term "innumeracy" is one I first came about in a mathematical book by Douglas Hofstatder about twenty five years ago when I was a a kid. It was was heavy on functions and trig and calculus, so it wasn't exactly a best seller (even with such masterpieces as Jonathon Livingston Seagull topping the chart in the same time period).

The term really hasn't caught on, so maybe I had ought to claim it, popularize it, and call it my own. What the word means is that the general populace has no idea what a a number means; that is if it is significant to the discussion or issue at hand. Quick, now, is the population of the United States :

A. 30 million

B. 300 million

C. 3 billion

D. 30 billion; or

E. None of the above.


We've had about 3,700 soldiers killed in Iraq in the most recent war. Is this more than, less than, or about the same as as the number of soldiers killed in action in Vietnam?

A. Less than.
B. About the same as.
C. More than.

The most people die on an annual basis from which cause?
A. Automobile accidents.
B. Colon/rectal cancer;
C. Lung cancer;
D. Breast cancer.

I doubt you got all three right. The answers are at the bottom. But the real point of the matter is despite how many years of mathemathics and higher education you have, you really had to stop and think about those questions. even if you did get them all right, they didn't roll off your tongue, did they? I started thinking thinking about this last while watching the evening news and listen to them discuss the need for more funding for SIDS (Sudden infant Death Syndrome) because there were 2248 deaths last year, which we can all agree is about 2248 too many. On the other hand, that's two for every 1,000 live births. Cancer, on the other hand, is primarily responsible for about 200 of every 1000 deaths. Think about that for a minute. 6 million deaths every 10 years.

Total federal funding for cancer (All kinds): About $5 billion. Total federal budget for 2003: About $2.2 Trillion. Total spending on cancer as a % of outlays: about 0.5 %, some 35 years after President Nixon declared "War on Cancer."

P.S. The answers above are B, A, and C.

My Birthday

The Rest Of The Night
written by Warren Zevon & Jorge Calderón, Zevon Music, (BMI)/Googolplex Music (BMI)

Why stop now? Let's party the rest of the night!

Seven o'clock, Eight o'clock, Nine o'clock. Ten

You wanna go home? Why? Honey, When?

We may never get this chance again!

Let's party for the rest of the night!

Yeah, Yeah! Oh, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!
Yeah, Yeah! Oh, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!

Why leave now? Let's party for the rest of the night!

Eleven o'clock, Twelve o'clock, One o'clock, Two

Me tired? Well boo-hoo!

I'm starting to fall in love with you

Let's party for the rest of the night!

Yeah, Yeah! Oh, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!
Yeah, Yeah! Oh. Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!

Why slow down? Let's party for the rest of the night!

Three o'clock, Four o'clock, Five o'clock, Six
Let's throw it all into the mix and open up our bag of tricks

And party for the rest of the night!

Oh, Yeah! Yeah, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!
Oh, Yeah! Yeah, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!

We never had an issue! We never had a fight!
Someone must be doing something right!

Yeah, Yeah! Oh, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!
Yeah, Yeah! Oh, Yeah! Let's party for the rest of the night!

Like my friend , Aaron, I decided I was sick about posting about cancer all off the time. 'Sides wides with all the recent excitement, I 've missed some pretty fun posts. With out further adieu (Feckin French) , I give you my 39th birthday (from May 19, 2007).
Josie, welcoming everyone to the party.

Two future members of the Rock and Roll hall of Fame. A sickeningly cute one of my friend Bruce and and my sister, Megan. She just looks guilty, doesn't she??!

Mom and #1 Son.

Cute Couples:

Dancing Fools:

Friends:

Overtime

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, Thought I'd something more to say. . .

--Pink Floyd. "Time", Dark Side of the Moon. (1973)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After a game where the home team somehow managed to get the ball up court, dribble a couple of times, then drive in for a shot (the clock had said 1.5 seconds remaining, you see), the visiting coach stormed into the home team coach's office asking who in the hell the clock operator was.

"Calm down, I don't want you hurting anybody," the home coach said."I don't want to hurt the guy," the visitor said. "I just want him to time the rest of my life."

Ditto. I got the 2nd quote from either Dean Schmitz or Scott Bandstra, I think. Stand up and take credit, whoever. Stand up and take credit, whoever. July 7, 2007, has come and gone and here I am. If anybody, took the under, time to pay up. There's no shame in admitting it, I didn't think I was going to make it several times. But here I am still standing, although my body is hurting and my days are growing shorter. E-Mails and blog comments are always welcome, please set up visits in advance.

Being A Baseball Fan Prepares You For Cancer

"It ain't over till its over."
--Yogi Berra (July, 1973)

Always run them out. You never can tell."
--Joe McCarthy (1949)

I've been a baseball fan since I was 3 or 4 years old and my parents took me to an Iowa Oaks game (they were, at the time, the AAA minor league affiliate for the Oakland A's) and I began yelling for the Oaks pitcher to "Cross (i.e., "strike") him out". I soon developed a passion for the game and my favorite team became the Kansas City Royals. As you may be aware, Royals won their division every year from 1976 - 1978 and lost to the Yankees every year in the playoffs. In 1980, they finally beat the Yankees when George Brett hit a towering homerun off Goose Gossage and the Royals finally went to the World Series. They lost in six games to the Phillies, but I didn't care. The evil Yankees had been vanquished. The Royals won the World Series in 1985, but it wasn't the same facing Toronto in playoffs.

Because the Royals became so bad following owner Ewing Kaufman's death in 1993, I decided to "adopt" the Cubs as my other team reasoning that the Cubs were at least semi-competitive and since they were in the National League, they wouldn't play each other anyway except in the unlikely event that both made the World Series.

Wikipedia entry on the Royals (with some editorial commentary by me)

1995-2001: The decline

At the start of the 1990s, the Royals had been hit with a double-whammy when General Manager John Schuerholz departed in 1990 and team owner Ewing Kauffman died in 1993. The Royals went to a board of directors headed by the unbelievably corrupt David Glass, CEO of Wal-Mart. David D. Glass became Owner and Chief Executive Officer of the Kansas City Royals on April 18, 2000 after serving as Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Royals since Sept. 23, 1993. The Board, comprised of Glass and other individuals appointed by Glass, approved his bid of $96 million for the Royals despite the fact a competing bid by Miles Prentice was 25% higher, at $120 million. During the six years of Glass' ownership (2000-2005) the Royals have averaged 97 losses, posting one winning record and three seasons with 100 or more losses, the worst sustained performance for the franchise in its 37 years of operation. Kauffman's death left the franchise without permanent ownership until Wal-Mart executive David Glass purchased the team for $96 million in 2000. Partly because of the resulting lack of leadership, after the 1994 season the Royals decided to reduce payroll by trading pitcher David Cone and outfielder Brian McRae, then continued their salary dump in the 1995 season. In fact, the team payroll was sliced from $40.5 million in 1994 to $18.5 million in 1996.[1]

As attendance slid and the average MLB salary continued to rise, the Royals found it difficult to retain their remaining stars, and the club traded players such as Kevin Appier, Johnny Damon, Jermaine Dye, and Carlos Beltran for prospects rather than pay higher salaries or lose them to free agency. Making matters worse, most of the younger players that the Royals received in exchange for these All-Stars proved of little value, setting the stage for an extended downward spiral. Indeed, the Royals set a franchise low with a .398 winning percentage (64-97 record) in 1999, and lost 97 games again in 2001.

2002-2006: Rock bottom
In 2002, the Royals set a new team record for futility, losing 100 games for the first time in franchise history. The 2003 season saw a temporary end to the losing, when manager Tony Peña, in his first full season with the club, improbably guided the Royals to their first winning record since the 1994 season. He was named the American League Manager of the Year for his efforts.

Picked by many to win their division in 2004 after faring surprisingly well in the free agent market, the Royals fell apart and established a new low by losing 104 games. In 2005, the Royals continued a youth movement, with one of the smallest payrolls in the Major Leagues. The Royals ended the 2005 season with a 56-106 record (.346), a full 43 games out of first place. It was the third time in four seasons that the team reestablished the mark for worst record in the history of the franchise. Looking for a quick turnaround, General Manager Allard Baird signed several veteran players prior to the 2006 season. Nevertheless, the Royals struggled through another 100-loss season in 2006, becoming just the eleventh team in major league history to lose 100 games in three straight seasons.[2]

During the Major League Baseball strike of 1994-1995, Glass, who was not yet owner of the Royals but chairman of the board administering the team after Ewing Kauffman's death, was one of the most forceful voices on the ownership side to oppose any settlement with the players' union, and supported the use of strike breaking "replacement" players, despite a court ruling that Major League owners were in violation of Federal labor laws. Glass is one of the richest owners in all of MLB baseball and could pose a threat to George Steinbrenner who's Yankees make more revenue than any other team in baseball.

Glass created a controversy on June 9, 2006 by revoking the press credentials of two reporters who had earlier asked pointed questions to Royals management. [1] The harsh move to avoid criticism infuriated many within the press and led to a backlash of articles that extended far beyond the Kansas City sports community [2]

Glass and his wife, Ruth, are the parents of three children, Dan, Don and Dayna, all of whom serve on the Royals' Board of Directors. While Charles O' Finley stripped apart a world championship team the Oakland A's he did it because he he couldn't compete financially in the free agency era, Glass, his cronies and children are simply a bunch of greed heads, putting out the cheapest product possible while lining his pockets.

The Chicago Cubs

The Chicago Cubs, meanwhile, have posted six records above .500 since 1993 , and have twice made the playoffs. One first place finish, one second place finish, and three third place finishes during that time period. If nothing else, they have played entertaining baseball setting attendance records despite a smaller stadium and an unfathomable 100 years without a World Series winner.

What are then, the parallels between cancer and baseball?

1. There are always greedy people willing to their financial self interests above the good of the whole no matter how much money they have, like certain doctors and pharmaceutical companies.

2. Hope Springs Eternal.

3. Once in while, in spite of overwhelming odds, the good guys do win.

4. It's a long season, and a long journey with cancer.

5. You gotta play hurt.

6. There are always certain doctors, nurses and coaches willing to go above and beyond the call of duty to see that the interests of the player/patient are put first.

7. Sometimes you need to fire the doctor or manager to move forward.

8. Sometimes the rules of the game change--scientific breakthroughs, interleague play, etc.

9. As long as a game is played well, it is still enjoyable even if your team loses.

What's Next?

Hey, Another Guest Columnist (or as I like to call it a couple more days for me to be lazy. :-))

Presenting, once again, Dean Schmitz:

Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.
A-roundin’ third, and headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.

Chorus:
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.

Well, I spent some time in the mudville nine, watchin’ it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the mighty casey struck out.
So say hey willie, tell ty cobb and joe dimaggio;
Don’t say "it ain’t so", you know the time is now.
Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it’s time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch ’em all - a moment in the sun;
(pop) it’s gone and you can tell that one goodbye!”

-– John Fogerty, "Centerfield", Centerfield (1985)

As I started putting together an entry as a guest writer for Tom’s blog, I planned on using the theme of baseball. I am a big baseball fan, always have been (even though the owners and players drive me crazy with all their stupid politicking) – the game of baseball is a beautiful thing. My entry was going to be a ‘baseball is a metaphor for life’ type article. It has been written many times before and I was thinking I would take my shot at it.

However, as I was reading another friend’s blog, entitled “What’s Next?” it got me thinking. Justina was writing about being an old married lady and not staying up past 10:30pm. She isn’t sure that her current life is exciting enough for a blog. It may be a calm recovery time that she is experiencing until the next phase of life kicks her into a higher gear. Additionally, the name of her blog may be reflective of her hoping to explore the answers to “What’s Next?”.

Obviously, I don’t have the answers for my friend. I, however, do have some answers for myself, or at least as much as anyone has answers. LIFE is next. Every single moment of it, no matter how exciting or ordinary. While I have a similar life to what my friend is describing (I rarely make the 10 o’clock news, let alone Letterman anymore), and it may not be very exciting to a lot of people, it is life to me and very important to enjoy. Obviously it is good to plan for the future and reflect on the past to learn lessons for the future. But to me, it is so important to live for right now and enjoy it. Whether that means you are climbing a mountain or enjoying pizza on your back porch with family, enjoy the now.

Kind & Generous

You've been so kind and generous,
I don't know how you keep on giving,
For your kindness, I'm in debt to you
For your selflessness, my admiration
For everything you've done.

You know I'm bound,
I'm bound to thank you for it....

--Natalie Merchant, Ophelia, "Kind & Generous", (1998)

Actually, this song in it's entirety is applicable to my wife, Melissa, but that's another blog. Instead, this blog is about everyone else who has been so kind and generous to me, and more importantly, to my family. We had yet another anonymous and embarrassingly generous gift of what my dad and Uncle Steve (or as he is known around these parts "The Uncle") call "folding money." This is not the first anonymous gift we've received and besides sending our thanks back through my parents who gave us the envelopes, this is the only way I can think of to try to try to reach them "personally."

And I decided to at least try to thank some of the people who have helped us so generously with their thoughts, deeds, and actions. (Yes, Mom, you did teach me better than this. I even have two boxes of thank you notes sitting inside my desk as I type this. I'm just lazy and rude I guess. :-) )

The danger in doing these kind of public thank yous is that you inevitably leave off people because you just forget. I hope nobody's feelings are hurt, because that is not my intent. You have to admit I have a pretty good excuse for forgetting. :-)

Friends and of course family have helped us out immensely, but my sister Megan has gone over and above the call of duty, carting the kids around to various activities, seeing that they're fed and giving us a couple moments of sanity in between all this madness.
Curt and Julie, Doug and Patti, Rod and Holly, Ben and Wendy, Bruce, Scott, Tom, Al and Phyllis, Terry and Sandie, our old neighbors (you know who you are), and our new neighbors, Ron and Joyce, Vicki and Harold. All of the people at the City of Des Moines, who generously donated their vacation time and for inviting me to lunch every Wednesday months after I went on disability. Thanks to James for seeing that the details at the city were taken care of.

I am writing this from the Taylor House Hospice. Hopefully, a temporary stop on the way to Kavanaugh House and eventually home for the inevitable. I apologize if I left anyone off. I think I still have a couple of blogs in me, but we'll just have to wait and see.

The Grateful Dead and Me

My brother Esau killed the hunter, back in 1969,
Before the killing was done, his inheritance was mine.
When at first my brother walked away,
Before a weary band,
Esau gave his sleeplessness for a piece of moral land.

Our father favored Esau,
he was eager to obey,
All the wild commandments, the old man shot his way.
But all this ended when, my brother failed at war.
He staggered home and found me in the door.

--The Grateful Dead, "My Brother Esau", In The Dark, (1987 (cassette only)).
--See also Genesis 25:21-34

Let me make something clear: I never liked the Grateful Dead growing up. Yeah, I had the Greatest Hits album like everyone else, but even the songs I liked, such as "Truckin' ", marked me as someone who was not a "true" Deadhead. To me, they were kind of a so-so blues band who put out a lot of live albums, doing so-so covers or sometimes hack jobs of other people's songs. The idea of someone slipping acid in my drink at a concert scared the shit out of me. If you need to plan in advance for someone to take care of you in case you freak out, that's a substance you probably shouldn't be putting in your body.

On the other hand, how can you beat the resigned nature of lyrics like this:

Sittin' and starin' out of the hotel window.
Got a tip they're gonna kick the door in again.
I'd like to get some sleep before I travel,
But if you got a warrant, I guess you're gonna come in.
--"Truckin' ", American Beauty, (1970)

I also liked St. Stephen, which was also on the Greatest Hits (a/k/a "Skeletons from the Closet") album (along with "Truckin' ").

My sophomore year of college, "In The Dark" came out, and I really liked "My Brother Esau" which was the "B" side of the Dead's only top 10 hit, ("Touch of Grey"), so I bought the cassette. It wasn't on the album (really big CD's for those of you who are Wendy's age :-) ). I also spent a great deal of time hanging out in GDI bars in Iowa City, like Joe's Place, the Deadwood, and so forth. Later, I discovered, I really liked a song on the "Dead Set" CD, which included, amongst other songs, has "Samson and Delilah", Friend of the Devil", and "Greatest Story Ever Told." And so, I've sort of become a Dead fan gradually over the years.

And what's occurred to me lately, (besides What a Long Strange Trip It's Been) is that many of the artists, I like best have a lot of biblical allusions and references in their material. Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Van Morrison. There's a lot there if you listen carefully. My all time favorite song may be "The Weight" by The Band. So, I've started comparing the biblical verses to some of the songs I like, just for fun, while I am reading the Bible.

I know that most of my friends and family are not exactly avid Bible readers (and frankly, neither am I), but since we have this wonderful toy we call the Internet, you should take some of your favorite songs, compare and contrast them with the actual verses and ruminate on them for a while.

Buying in Bulk

"After all, the chief business of the American people is business."
--Calvin Coolidge, Address before the American Society of Newspaper Editors, Washington, D.C., Jan. 17, 1925

When the doctors start telling you your time is growing short, and there's really not much they can do (as will happen after my latest scans/pictures today) you have about 4 options :

1. Piss and moan about how unfair life is.

2. Sit and around the house and cry and feel sorry for yourself.

3. Read the Bible, try to contemplate life, while spending time outside.

4. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Most of us do some combination of the above. I was never very good at #1, spent most of least week doing #2. That leaves #3 and #4. I'm going to start using some self discipline and starting on #3 in a more serious fashion this next week. That leaves #4. Now there's only so many time you can read a poem so you kind of have to think metaphorically here.

One of my protests against this whole dying thing has been shopping. Nothing extravagant mind you , but grocery shopping for example. We always bought the bag with 50 coffee filters for about 68 cents. I am the only one who drinks coffee in my house, so it makes sense. A few weeks ago, I dropped a whole $1.79 on 200 filters as my little protest against cancer. I've used about 75 so far, so this huge investment may pay off yet :-). I bought a huge (3lb.?) coffee can of Folgers because it was on sale for $4.99. Melissa was mad about it because the can takes up so much cupboard space, but I drank it all. Working on a small bag of Starbucks now.

I bought 10 cans of Chunky (both Campbell's and the HyVee (store) brand) and Healthy Choice soups for $0.75 from the scratch n' dent carts they put at the front of the store. I know it's almost summer, but I intend to eat them all.

I always check out what's in the clearance aisle at Target. I am Bargain Betty and I'm not changing, cancer be damned.

The visits to the oncologists this morning went as I envisioned. There's really nothing else they can for me at this point, my lungs sound pretty good, the cognitive and physical declines are not very steep at this point, and I'm in as good as shape as someone with terminal cancer can be.

On a lighter note, the first two of the ducklings whose mother set up shop in our yard hatched yesterday. The first one with any yellow color is going to be named after Steve Bowman.

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

"I drink Heartbreak Motor Oil, and Bombay Gin.
I'll sleep when I'm dead.
Straight from the bottle, twisted again.
I'll sleep when I'm dead."

--Warren Zevon, I'll Sleep When I'm Dead



"Shadows are falling and I'm running out breath;
Keep me in your heart for awhile.
If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less;
Keep me in your heart for a while.
***
These wheels keep on turning but they're running out of steam;
Keep me in your heart for while.

--Warren Zevon, Keep Me in Your Heart, The Wind, 2004

Another sort of seismic shift this past week . Sleep has gone from bad to absolutely horrible. I'm afraid the end is in sight. 90 minutes here, up for 2 1/2 hours, 75 minutes there, up for another 1 1/2 hours, maybe 2 hours after that. This is with Atavan (a supposed sleeping aid/anti anxiety pill.) Hell, the only thing I'm worried about is not sleeping.

Say what you want about coke, crack, methamphetamine, etc,. As far as I'm concerned, the Devil's own is Decadron. It prevent swelling in the brain, apparently by keeping the blood flowing in the brain full blast 24/7.

On a completely unrelated note, donations are being taken for my children's college fund until Friday this week, for the publication or non publication of photos arising out of a certain party on May 19, 2007. :-)

How do they do it?

Whatever gets you through the night,
it's all right, it's all right.
--John Lennon, "Whatever Gets You Through the Night" (1974)

"The Strongest Man in the World is the Man who Stands Alone."
--Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People, Part 5 (1882)

"I hate those Internet fuckers."

--3 Doctors overheard speaking to 3 other doctors on seperate occassions at IMMC (Des Moines), Mayo Clinic (Minneapolois-St.Paul), and M.D. Anderson (Houston) 2003-2007.

I have a very smart wife. She's also an extremely hard worker. That's a good combination for success in life, love and otherwise.

She went to undergrad at the University of Iowa at the same time I did, and then went to work in another city as I was going to law school. Our marriage has always truly been a partnership; the things she's good at I'm not; and vice versa.

One thing I have steadfastly refused to do since I was diagnosed with with brain cancer in 2002 is fool with the medical bills . It's not that I couldn't do it; hell, I did it all the time in divorces, personal injury cases, and workman's compensation cases. If there was one thing I spent a lot of time with, it was these bills--they are the bread and butter of the legal profession for attempting to value and settle cases. But I couldn't bear to fool with my own stuff (a) while I was trying to work; and (b) while trying to recover from news and treatments emotionally, physically, spiritually and otherwise.

Melissa stepped in and never missed a beat. What you must realize, is that nearly every service you receive a bill for is double, triple and sometimes quadruple billed. These are often sent simultaneously with nasty letters telling you pay some outrageous copay or sometimes the whole bill, or otherwise make payment arrangements or else they will ruin your (or worse yet, your spouses' credit rating). Basically, unless you tell them to fuck off, get there bosses on the phone, threaten them with violations of the Fair Credit Reporting Act (which they have almost inevitably committed) , they will try to force you into some sort of "payment plan" for those items which they claim are not covered by your health insurance. The funny (odd, definitely not ha, ha funny) thing is these charges are all fungible. Once the billing people have decided they have choked as much money as they can out of you, they move on.

Melissa and I have had several experiences with a neurosurgeon who I consider to be the most most brilliant neurosurgeon in the Central United States, bar none. Some people don't like him because they say his beside manner manner leaves something to be desired. This is probably true for a lot of people,who want their hand held throughout the the process. I'm not one of them. I, like the good doctor, but I am an extreme, type "A" personality. Tell me what you know for sure, what nobody knows, and what given my overall condition you think is going to happen. This guy does that. In fact, all my doctors now do. I can't afford to waste time listening to a bunch of happy horseshit about how some people beat the odds; we all are pretty damn sure I won't; so skip the platitudes. My time used to be worth between $175 and $250 hour, depending on the case. Now, it's priceless.


This particular neurosurgeon invested in a clinic about 15 miles away from the hospital I'm at , which is new, very nice and does MRI's (a necessity when gauging cancer treatments) amongst other things. After one or two times there, we refused to keep going there because they charged $300.00 more for an MRI than the facility next door to the hospital. The equipment was the same; (there was no more detail from the MRI in the equipment from the newer facility), only the cost (and inconvenience) was greater, which in turn made our co-pay greater. The good doctor gave Melissa a bunch of grief about it until Melissa explained why to him. He couldn't believe it until he looked into it and, found out she was correct about the substantial rate difference. He could hardly believe it himself.

This kind of crap goes on all off the time. My favorite though, is charging for procedures never performed and things (e.g. medication, health aids, etc.) never received. Melissa, bless her heart, not only was present for every medical procedure our children went through, but for all of mine. She knows what was done by the Doctors, nurses, etc., what was not done, and makes sure the bills are adjusted accordingly. At times, she has had to direct our own insurance company not pay certain bills. It is who we are and where we come from.

If they start in with threatening us about the bills, the first thing we do is ask for an itemized statement, right down to every last Tylenol, every 7up, etc. They will be shocked when you ask for this. That's okay. Let 'em be. Next point you make is that they and their bosses will have jobs for about 30 seconds after you report their doctor to the medical board for fraudulent charges on your bill which are nearly inevitable. It is really fun to to tell them how you are directing your insurer not to pay certain items because the the services were not performed. It is amazing how easy it is to work out a payment plan at this point in time and get agreements (in writing of course), that your credit will not be affected, and any previous blemishes removed.

But others are not nearly as well educated as we are; do not have a veritable army of lawyers ready to go to the mat for them; do not care about being overbilled; cannot comprehend one bill sent to them, must less three bills for the same damn thing. "Negotiated rates", the euphemism for for what insured people are charged for a certain procedure, go out the window when dealing with uninsured people. They are headed to bankruptcy court come hell or highwater as far as the medical profession is concerned. The same MRI which costs us $1200 -$1500 with insurance, suddenly becomes a $2250 charge with no insurance; it is one of the the dirty little secrets of the medical profession and at least one of the reasons doctors and lawyers tend to become natural enemies. [Although in all fairness, I've known many a lawyer willing to set up "payment plans" for clients who couldn't pay their bills. "Coincidentally", perhaps, these are the same lawyers who generally aren't very good.] Doctors generally feed their billing out to a third party.

Finally, there are doctors everywhere looking for glory in the form of publication of new treatments, i.e. studies . These experimental studies are the bread and butter of the medical profession, especially for certain doctors. (Hence the saying, "Publish or perish".) In a smaller town like Des Moines, (Metro population about 400-500 K) they really try to push "qualified" candidates into their studies. These doctors tend to be a hell of a lot more worried about their precious studies than they are about the patients. Since most studies turn out to be garbage (at least from the patient's perspective), this is not necessarily a good thing. Patients are generally given limited information about the risks, the possible benefits are played up, and boom, they are in the study. The only possible defense is to study up on the proposed treatments and make sure you are making an informed decision. When dealing with a primarily older population, whose minds are clouded by radiation and/or chemo drugs, you can pretty easily guess the way most of those conversations go, preying on the fears of the elderly, etc.

How do they do it? Not very well, I'm afraid unless they get the right doctors by chance.

Today's Top 10

Another Guest Columnist, Dean Schmitz, (Hey, I can get used to this!) , that is one of my oldest friends. Without further ado:

Top 10 Things I’ve learned from Tommy Clarke in the 25 years I have known him:

Lists are for geeks, so here is mine.

10. Well, the very first thing I learned about Tom was that he was smarter than me. Learned that right away when I met him. And not just book smart, but wise to the world smart. He knew things that I hadn’t ever thought about. Heck, still haven’t thought about them. He opened my eyes to many things beyond which I was aware.

9. Even smart people can be wrong. See Tom’s thoughts on the Hawkeyes vs. the Cyclones. Go CLONES!

8. I learned a lot about music. I have always considered myself a music geek, but learned about a lot of good music through Tom. Joe Walsh/James Gang, Creedence, Cougar, Jackson Browne, etc.

7. Treat people right. I think he learned this from his parents. Tommy has always been good to people. I really don’t remember him ever treating anyone badly. Unless they deserved it of course. But, in general, Tom is very thoughtful, caring and interested in others. Sounds like that continued into his career, which is a wonderful thing.

6. Let’s just say that Tommy “improved” my drinking skills. He also taught me to like beer - the hard way (we got way too drunk on vodka and I have never felt worse the next day). Don’t drink before a Physics final with Tom – he will pass and you will not.

5. Humor. Tom is funny as all get out. I still have multiple letters that I received from Tom during our college years, before the Internet made writing physical letters on paper a thing of the past. I still get them out every once in a while and read them. Sarcastic, cynical, whatever. Laughing is a good thing and Tom always makes me laugh.

4. The importance of good conversation. Tom is always ready for a good conversation. This is probably connected to #6 above. I don’t believe I am a very good conversationalist, but with the right people and the right topic, I can get going. I need to get better at this, because as Tom has shown me, there is a lot to learn from others, just by joining them in conversation.

3. Surround yourself with good people. Tom has been lucky like a lot of us to be born into a good family. But he also surrounded himself with good people who he calls friends. Then he met Melissa and realized he had another good person that he needed in his life. I am also lucky to have a good people in my life (especially my wife) and am very thankful for it.

2. There is always time to say hello (again). I spent a decent amount of time hanging out with Tommy in high school and somewhat kept in touch in college. From there, we lost touch as friends do. I hadn’t seen Tom in a long while and then talked to him at our 20th year high school reunion. Since then, I have been back in contact with Tom, trading emails and CDs. It has been great as I always enjoy his company. You can always say hello to a friend, no matter how long it has been since you last talked.

1. New things right up until today. From this blog alone, perseverance & inner strength. To enjoy life. To love the people in your life with all your heart. The importance of making a positive difference in people’s lives. To “shock” people by using common courtesy. Be thankful for the small things and don’t forget to read the bible.

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to You…..

Today is THE day of TOM (Golden Boy)…..since I met Tom almost 18 years ago, the month of May has always been about him!! TOM, TOM, TOM.

Tom has always loved his birthday month and makes no bones about it. Even our boys think that the month of May is all about him. Forget Mother’s Day, that is just another obstacle in the way of celebrating his day! (For those that may think that this is insensitive, to date I have always been treated like a queen on Mother’s Day by all my boys!)

Recently, Tom wrote about the changes he has gone through with “The Cancer” and even though he has had these changes, his vitality, spirit and strength still go on. “The Cancer” has literally knocked both of us on our butts and to be perfectly honest, many times Tom gets up before me after another blow. This man whom I have been blessed with is charged with so much strength, he has shared his strength with many of us.

Today, we celebrate you Tom and all that you mean to us. You are such a great influence for our boys. They are becoming strong, caring little men who have learned early the importance of family, love, prayer and friendships. For the rest of us, you have been a great listener, drinking buddy and an advisor about life and keeping things in perspective.

We celebrate that you are still here with us and that each day with you is a gift. From here on out, our motto is 3 days at a time, and I will along with many others are going to make the most of each of those 3 days at a time with you.

“TODAY is your day, today is about you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you”
Dr. Seuss, The Birthday Book

All my love,
Melissa

Shelter from the Storm

'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood,
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud;
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.
* * *
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail;
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm.

--Bob Dylan, "Shelter from the Storm" from Blood On the Tracks (1974).

I think, therefore I am.
--Rene Descartes, Le Discours de la Methode, pt 4 (1637).

I think I am, therefore..?
--Me ( 2007)

I've had my head cracked open and half of a baseball sized tumor removed. 31 fractions of "targeted" brain radiation. Brain chemotherapy with Temodar. 37 fractions of radiation for the lung tumor. Carboplatin and Taxol chemotherapy. Stereotactic radiosurgery for brain metastases. A second stereotactic radiosurgery for new brain metastases.

It's all taken quite a mental toll. I'm not talking about psychologically, although all of the treatment does exact a toll in that manner, too. I am talking about physical, structural changes to the brain. While the cancer researchers and companies that employ and/or finance them, are always quick to trumpet the latest "breakthrough" treatment which generally involves squeezing a couple more weeks (and occasionally, a month or two) of life out of us, there is almost never any talk about the mental deterioration that takes place with the "treatment advances."

If you have time, take a look at the letters that go with this link on Leroy Seivers' cancer blog on the National Public Radio site dated 5/1/07:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/mycancer/2007/05/why_is_cancer_news.html#commentSection

I've experienced nearly every type of instance mentioned in the letters that accompany that blog. I've come home with milk from the store and immediately put in in the cupboards with the dishes. I've gone to the grocery store intending to purchase one specific item, ended up coming home with two or three bags full of groceries, but still missing the item I went to the store for in the first place on several occasions. Forgetting what I went out to the kitchen to get, and returning to the family three or four times in a row before finally being able to get whatever I had intended to get, and sitting back down with the item in my possession. Short term memory seems most severely affected. Long term memory hasn't really been affected. I remember telephone numbers that people had 20 years ago, but can't remember details of conversations that I had yesterday. Names, even with people I've known for years, are sometimes impossible.

Everyday objects are sometimes the toughest to remember. Give me one of those things you put the coffee in (mug). Losing your train of thought in mid-sentence. I used to know all twenty-nine exceptions to the hearsay rule. Now, don't even bother asking me .

I used to know the artist for every one hit or two hit wonder band from the 60's, 70's and 80's (e.g. "Car Wash"--Rose Royce (1976)). "The Night Chicago Died"--Paper Lace, (1974). I remember one time sitting with my friend Bruce and Melissa in a bar in Omaha, and they had a D.J. giving away free beer and t-shirts and other assorted crap for people who could name the title of the "obscure" songs he was playing. I was not only naming the songs, but naming the band, the year, the album and really pissing the the D.J. off until he decided our table couldn't win anymore. (the three of us had several t-shirts and about six pitchers of beer on table at that point). So I started feeding answers to the other tables near us. I think the game ended a little earlier that night than it usually did. I wasn't trying to show off (well, maybe a little :-)) ; it was just something I knew.

Now, I usually have to look the stuff up on the Internet if I want to find it. And still, that doesn't always work. People (especially Melissa ) used to be able to ask me what song is "Da na na, Duh na na" and I could say, "You Dropped a Bomb on Me", The Gap Band, (1980), " no problem. I can't really do that anymore.

As one of the letters to the NPR blog says "My mind used to be a steel trap. Now it's a colander." An extremely apt description, unfortunately. Sometimes my mind can find a circuitous route and come up with the correct answer; other times, it tries to make the direct leap across the colander, and the information goes down the hole like so much water. Another person commented that we need to stop giving these conditions such silly names like "chemo brain" and "radiation fog", so doctors, researchers, and others take these things seriously. I agree wholeheartedly.

Now, what in the hell did I just agree to?

Mom Does Blog

A Special Guest Author today. Someone Near and Dear to my Heart: Mom.



I went sky divin'
I went Rocky Mountain climbin'
I went 2 point 7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu.
And I loved deeper,
And I spoke sweeter
And I watched an Eagle as it was flying;
And he said someday I hope you get the chance,
To Live Like You Were Dyin’

Chorus , Live like You Were Dyin’ -- Tim McGraw

One of the interesting threads running through cancer blogs is “what would you do if you only had [insert number] months to live?” Since Tom was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I’ve noticed how often brain tumors occur in novels, TV dramas, soap operas, and movies--way out of proportion to the relatively rare occurrence in real life. I call it “brain tumor as literary device.” Those of us who haven’t faced x-rays and scans predicting our demise usually say that the first thing we’d do is quit out job.

Aaron [Pollack (of "Where's My p53" fame)] , however, chose to continue working as long as he can because he believes so strongly in what he’s doing. I admire that. Tom wanted to take some trips. He has had some wonderful experiences in the last few months: the baseball tour with his Dad and Joe; a Notre Dame game with Bruce and Joe; Palm Springs with all the Melleckers, and of course, Ireland. But these days, the things that seem so sweet to our family are the ordinary moments: the boys’ baseball games, sitting together on the patio in the evening, Jack climbing on Tom’s lap, eating pizza, having a beer, talking about Steph’s wedding. The only good thing that I can see about terminal cancer is that it reminds you to do some things you‘ve always wanted to do, and to “talk sweeter’ and “love deeper". And, guess what? We all have the chance to live like we were dying.

Wild Eyed Liberals. . .

. . . and Stem Cell Research

Here's an Interview from May 3, 2007, with that well known liberal, Orrin Hatch, sent to Congress by all the radicals in Utah. From that publication with a well known liberal slant, The New England Journal of Medicine:

http://content.nejm.org/cgi/reprint/356/18/e18.pdf

Here's a link to the audio interview:

http://content.nejm.org/cgi/content/full/NEJMp078082/DC1

And no, I'm not dropping this until our government is supporting stem cell research. It is not a religious issue, or a moral issue, it is a right versus wrong issue. Please read and/or listen.

Tom

One Year Out

He said I was in my early 40's,
With a lot of life before me,
And a moment came that stopped me on a dime.
I spent most of the next days, lookin' at the x-rays,
Talkin' 'bout the options and talkin' 'bout sweet time.
Asked him when it sank in, that this might really be the real end.
How's it hit ya, when you get that kind of news.
Man what ya do.
--Tim McGraw, Live Like You Were Dyin'

"Ninety percent I'll spend on good times, women and Irish Whiskey. The other ten percent I'll probably waste."
--Tug McGraw (Tim's father), after signing a $400,000.00 free agency contract, circa 1976.


Well the years start coming and they don't stop coming
Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running
Didn't make sense not to live for fun
Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb

So much to do so much to see
So what's wrong with taking the back streets
You'll never know if you don't go
You'll never shine if you don't glow

Hey now you're an All Star get your game on, go play
Hey now you're a Rock Star get the show on get paid
And all that glitters is gold
Only shooting stars break the mold
--Smash Mouth, "All Star"

365 days under my belt. Since what? Since the diagnoses of lung cancer on May 10, 2006.

To refresh a few of you who have been around since the beginning (and to inform many of those who have not), I was first diagnosed with oligodendroglioma (brain cancer) in late 2002. It is technically not cancer, because it doesn't spread, the problem is that the skull is of limited size, and the "benign" tumor begins pushing the brain into the hard skull, and that causes all sorts of mean and nasty problems. So I had surgery, and my surgeon was able to remove about half of the baseball (6cm *5cm *4cm) sized tumor. The rest had to stay because of its location along the motor strip, which controls the body's ability to speak, and move, etc.

I was encouraged by the radiation oncologists to have the remainder radiated. My surgeon was non-committal. After much research and soul searching, I decided to defer radiation. This is because there is a problem that they have given the rather innocuous sounding name "delayed radiation necrosis" . This essentially means that the radiation itself as opposed to the cancer, rots your brain and kills you. These problems don't show up until 7-10 years down the road, which didn't used to be a problem, because they really weren't able to identify cancer soon enough (i.e. before stage IV) to do much good. Find the cancer radiate, and 9 months later you were dead. Thanks to advances in knowledge, imaging equipment, etc., this is no longer the case. They discovered mine at Stage II(C) maybe early stage III, so I had a decision to make. The radiation oncologists all say, well, we're targeting radiation now, but when you ask them to point you to a study (from any country), and they can't. So I deferred, and we monitored the brain with MRI's and the occasional CAT scan for the next 3 years or so. In late 2005, we were informed that the tumor was growing and it was time to radiate.

I underwent 37 (38?) fractions between January and March 2006, and then started on an oral chemotherapy pill (Temodar) after that. I wasn't doing too bad at this point. Hell, my life expectancy was still between 2013 and 2016, and who knew what scientists might be able to come up with by then?

I had this cough I couldn't shake throughout April, and Melissa insisted that we get it checked out. She thought I had walking pneumonia or something. Isn't that just like women??!! Well, as she was right as it turned out . Lung Cancer. Stage IIIB, maybe stage IV. The hits kept coming. Inoperable. Life expectancy of 12 -18 months. 31 more fractions of radiation. Chemotherapy. when you get down to being a short timer, like I am now, I didn't hear the 12 months part, only the 18 months. I figured, well , so be it, November, 2007. So in June 2006, I took a leave for disability from my job.

Still, after 69 fractions of radiation, and a couple of rounds of chemotherapy, the hits just kept on coming. January 8, 2007, learned of brain cancer metastases. Stereotactic radiation surgery. New drop dead date of July 9, 2007.

And the hits are still coming. May 4, 2007. New metastases. May 8, 2007. Another stereotactic radiosurgery. And here I am. I've still have my friends, my family, my boys, and best of all, Melissa. 60 days. Bet the over. I am alive and kicking.

What you gonna do when things go wrong?
What you gonna do when it all cracks up?
What you gonna do when the Love burns down?
What you gonna do when the flames go up?
Who is gonna come and turn the tide?
What's it gonna take to make a dream survive?
Who's got the touch to calm the storm inside?
Don't say goodbye
Don't say goodbye
In the final seconds who's gonna save you?

Oh, Alive and Kicking
Stay until your love is, love is, Alive and Kicking
Oh, Alive and Kicking
Stay until your love is, love is, Alive and Kicking
--Simple Minds, "Alive and Kicking" (1985)

Misc. Thoughts on Ireland

I'm going in tomorrow for radiation to zap the brain mets. Here's the last post on Ireland, at least until I get something from Ben and Wendy on the "International Jam Incident."

I think the problem with Ireland is that they're just not quite used to the hospitality industry. The owners of the B&B's place too much emphasis on the breakfast part of the deal, and not enough on the room.

First off, I understand it's the off season and maybe some places need a fresh coat of paint, or holes in the wall need filling, or the towels are raggedy or whatever. We don't care about any of that. I could care less about t.v., too, though one seemed to be included in every room we stayed in. But really, there's no excuse for light bulbs that are burned out and not replaced, door handles that don't work (Melissa almost was trapped in a bathroom because the door handle literally came off in her hand), mirrors falling off walls, and "complimentary" coffee (that instant Nescafe crap) where only the decaf got refilled.

Speaking of coffee, what is with the three foot cords to the little pots to boil water in? There's no where to plug them in? We literally ended up holding the pot while the water boiled because there was no where to set it (The plug outlet was too high on the wall to set it on the floor). Spend 20 Euro's on a Mr. Coffee, provide real coffee, and charge me 5 Euros more for the room.

Those torture devices they call water saving devices in the showers ought to be used against suspected terrorists at Abu Garhib. They have these nasty little boxes that spout out freezing cold water to start with. You can't really wait outside the shower for it to get better, because most of these "bathrooms" with 3/4 baths were literally built in the closets of the homes. Because of the way the shower door opens you are forced to stay inside or you will flood the floor. Inevitably, you overcorrect and it immediately goes to scalding hot. Then you end up punching the control buttons to turn down the heat on on this evil little control box and the water immediately goes to freezing. And so it goes back and forth. What we eventually discovered was the if you touch the box even once, it starts back over at freezing cold. The guy that invented this "water saving device" ought to have his ass kicked. On the other hand, you always could tell who was awake and getting ready for breakfast from the screams of "Shit! Fuck! and Goddammit!" coming from the rooms.

Finally, what's with the hide the hairdryer game? All of the people at the B&B's and hotels acted either annoyed and or surprised that we couldn't find the hairdryer in the room. No, we didn't expect to find the hairdryer in whatever dresser drawer you hid the hairdryer in. We expected to find it near a mirror, or at least near an outlet.

The following comments apply both to the hotels and to B&B's.
1. Breakfast. We can accept that things are out of season. Do not ever, ever, feed me canned fruit on your "fresh fruit" buffet.
2. Can't anyone make eggs over easy? If you don't know how, or refuse to serve them that way for some reason, let me know and I'll get something else. Only three places (out of 8) could make an egg over easy (the rest were over hard).
3. Ditto coffee, with the hotels, oddly enough, being the worst offenders.
4. What's with trying to pass off two super single mattresses as a king size??!! It's the hotels, too! There's a real opportunity here for a mattress company to move in and make a pile of money.

Good things.

1. The people. You will not meet nicer people in you lifetime.

2. The scenery. It's not as good as you've heard. It's better.

3.The pubs. I didn't really identify what it was (besides the fresh Guinness) that made Irish pubs better than American bars. It's not the music. Frankly, although it's something different, the novelty wears off rather quickly for me. After about my sixth Guinness one night, I discovered what it was. No television. Oh they all have one, but the only time it's on is for a national rugby or soccer match, and for the national news for half an hour in the early evening. What a novel idea! When the Irish talk about going to the pub for the craic (conversation), it's because they can. We need some places like that here in the States. By the way, don't miss:
a. Morrissey's
b. Davey Byrne's
c.The South Pole Inn
d.Foxy John's
e. Jack C's
f. The Brazen Head

4. The food. No, I'm not joking. Along the southwest and western borders, the seafood is especially good. The beef isn't bad and people on the east coast in the U.S. would consider it to be very good. The problem is that we're from Iowa, and all of our cattle is corn fed. It is the best in the world.

5. Bed and Breakfasts. Don't Miss:

(1) The Marless House, Galway, Co. Galway. The nicest hosts you could ever have, American controls on the shower, good breakfast, a hop, skip and a jump from the downtown action. Best of the lot.
(2) Walsh's Townhouse B&B, Dingle, Co. Kerry. Very friendly hosts, knew how to cook an egg over easy, good coffee (which made up for the canned pineapple), Americanized controls on the shower, right in the heart of Downtown, conveniently across the street from a fine pub.
(3) Palm Lodge, Mitchelstown, Co. Cork. Friendly service, the best coffee of any of the places we stayed in Ireland (fancy hotels included), wool blankets on the beds, and delivery service to church. Made up for the unspeakable watersaving box on the shower, which was the first (but unfortunately not the last) we encountered on our journey.

Bad things.
1. Tourist towns. Overpriced, bad service, and many shops, restaurants and pubs closed down during offseason, presumably because they make so much money during the high season. These towns were really the only places where we encountered rude people in Ireland.

2. Skip the following B&B's:
(1)Rockcrest House. Kenmare, Co. Kerry.
(2)Ashgrove, Kinsale, Co. Cork.

All in all, one of the best vacations I've ever taken. See the April 24, 2007 blog entry for my advice on travel agents and transportation.

"He's got high hopes. . ."

. . .He's got high hopes,
1960 is the year for his high hopes.
So go on and vote for Kennedy,
vote for Kennedy,
vote for Kennedy, Jack;
'cause Jack is on the right track.
--1960 Kennedy Campaign Song, sung to the tune of "High Hopes"

Rusty Dennis: First you told me he was gonna be retarded, then you told me he was gonna be blind AND deaf. If I'd dug his grave every time one of you geniuses told me he was gonna die, I'd be eating fuckin' chop suey in China by now!
--The Mask (starring Cher, not Jim Carrey), 1985

Rocky Dennis: What's his problem, Ma?
Rusty Dennis: Nothing. He's just another asshole. You let that negative dreck in and it'll put ya away. You can be a chicken shit and die or be a mensch and keep makin' yourself well.
--The Mask, 1985


I think Nixon's Campaign song was "Crazy Train", by Ozzy Osbourne. No wait; 1960 was be before he started howling at the moon in public--It must have been "Mack The Knife."

Anyway, that's a conversation for another time. I'm getting fitted for the mask today, and we're scheduled for stereotactic brain surgery (again) next Tuesday. This is the same semi-humane procedure I did back in mid- January. Obviously, the MRI last Friday did not bring good news. A pile of new tumors showed up on the MRI--we're going to try to zap the biggest six. I think Melissa was crushed by the bad news; I was saddened, but pretty much expected the bad news. At this point, we (the cancer-ridden people) pretty much know what our bodies are telling us better than anyone else including the doctors, and mine hasn't been whispering sweet nothings to me.

I have high hopes about the surgery. Not as high as Kennedy, mind you; he was hoping for 4-8 years; I'm hoping for another 4-8 months. See my little sister get married, see both boys play a little football this fall, celebrate one more anniversary with my wife, and watch the Hawks kick the shit out of the Cyclones one last time---maybe then I'll be "ready" (or as ready as I'm going to be) to move onward and upward.

For my birthday, Melissa got tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld for tonight, and I'm really looking forward to it.

IT’S OUR BLOG NOW (written by Bruce and Megan)

A special guest author appearance from two of this blogs most esteemed (and only) readers:

Because mutiny on the bounty's what we're all about,
I'm gonna board your ship and turn it on out.
No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder,
'Cause I'm bad gettin' bolder - cold getting colder.
Terrorizing suckers on the seven seas,
And if you've got beef - you'll get capped in the knees.
We got sixteen men on a dead man's chest,
And I shot those suckers and I'll shoot the rest.
-- Beastie Boys, “Rhymin’ and Stealin’”

February 18, 2007: Paris and the Mutiny (that didn’t happen)

The mutiny on the HMS bounty that took place 218 years ago today was nothing compared to the mutiny that took place amongst weary travelers in Dublin, Ireland on February 17th – 18th…

After traveling and staying in a different place for almost 10 nights in a row, the aspect of traveling again was daunting…the part of Fletcher Christian was played by Bruce, who suggested to Megan that rather than traveling to (the godforsaken French city) Paris with the rest of the group, that we stay behind in Dublin…keep in mind the weather was gorgeous, no rain in sight and both us had been to Paris before…

After much deliberation (and because we love our Captain(s) Bligh), the entire group decides to go to Paris. Lucky for us, the weather after we leave Dublin becomes rainy and miserable, and the weather in Paris was beautiful for our entire stay.

The first thing we’d recommend to serious tourists when going to Paris is to purchase the museum pass at the airport. This will help you to avoid lines if you have a short period of time in which you are hoping to see many sights (as we were). Bruce had a clear interest in seeing Sainte-Chapelle and the Palais de Justice and Megan wanted to see the D’Orsay museum (both of us had been to the Louvre before).

The hotel in Paris was in the Trocadero district…it was awesome. The website is:
http://www.heart-of-paris-hotels.com/hotel-EN-18-garden_elysee_hotel.html

We had a great bartender at the hotel, named Pascal, who seemed to have his hand in everybody’s pocket. According to Bruce, Ben immediately develops a serious man-crush on Pascal. Pascal was able to give us some names of places for dinner (some good, some not-so-good)…the first of which was awesome (and not just of because of the name), La Butte…
La Butte Chaillot 110 bis av kleber 75116 PARIS tel : 01 47 27 88 88Beautiful setting, friendly service, inventive French cuisine that is very well presented.

We were able to have a great dinner to reconcile the mutiny that didn’t happen and to walk down to Trocadero and see the Eiffel Tower for the first time as a group. On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a nice café for a night cap. Wendy breaks a glass and, as we found out the next night, apparently bankrupts the place. It is closed for the rest of the trip.

February 19, 2007

I ate the last mango in Paris
Took the last plane out of Saigon,
Took the first fast boat to China
And Jimmy there's still so much to be done.
-- Jimmy Buffet, “Last Mango in Paris”

We didn’t find mangoes, but we did find a great breakfast café along Kleber…neither of us can remember the name, but the omelet, croissants, and coffee were out of this world. With sustenance on our side, we head to the metro (map in hand, of course) to go sight-seeing. After several trips back and forth between metro platforms, Bruce concedes Megan is right and we get on the correct train to Sainte Chappelle/Palais de Justice/Notre Dame.

Neither of us had been to Sainte Chappelle before and we feel it is highly worth visiting…GO UPSTAIRS. Viewing it in the sunlight is like seeing heaven. Notre Dame is beautiful, but no hunchback, and we’re both too lazy to climb stairs to see any special views…so we find a café to drink (wine).

The neat thing about Paris is you can just wander around and find things you are not looking for. We stumble upon the Pantheon, and the Sorbonne. We have more wine and a great bowl of Onion Soup at Crepes-a-go-go (Megan has crepes). We find out that the French in French Onion Soup is presumed and somewhat redundant.

On the way to finding the metro station, we find the Luxemburg Palace and Gardens. It’s a beautiful day and we enjoy the people-watching.

We meet back at the hotel with the group, and have several drinks with the group and Pascal. We dine in a restaurant with no other patrons -- the sign of either a crappy place or the most exclusive restaurant you’ve ever patronized (it was the former).

Like the old man in the Jimmy Buffet song, life is something that should be savored and enjoyed like every day is the last. Go to Paris while you are young and in love.

February 20, 2007

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
--Don McLean, “Starry, Starry Night”

Okay, so this particular painting is not at the D’Orsay, but you get our drift. This is one of the museums for which the museum pass is definitely worth it (after figuring out which entrance to go in). We skip pretty much to the 5th floor to see the impressionist artists that Megan is anxious to see. Bruce misses Manet (no, not Monet).

After seeing (almost) everything we wanted to see, we stop at a café across from the Louvre (which is closed on Tuesdays) and people-watch while sipping on red-wine. We shop in the basement of the Louvre for French rap for Megan’s friend Marit and perfume for Megan’s friend Steph. We then walk through the Palais Royale to another café (more red wine).

We take the Metro to Printemps so Bruce can buy gifts for his children. After purchasing the latest in knight and princess fashions, we stroll along the Champs Elysees.

We meet back with the gang at the hotel where Melissa has gifts for all of us….red wine for Bruce and Megan, liquor for Ben, and JAM FOR WENDY (if that is not a set-up, I don’t know what is)… Pascal helps Bruce buy wine to take back to the States and Bruce immediately develops a man crush (bigger than Ben’s) on Pascal . . . After that night, we eat at another restaurant recommended by Pascal. The appetizers include ‘snakes’ according to the English speaking (as a second language) waiter. Melissa decides to be adventurous and tries the (as it turns out) snails. This goes down as Megan’s favorite night when Bruce makes a huge blunder and is forced by the group to eat a snail.

Back to Dublin

And now for something completely different."
--Monty Python's Flying Circus Episode 2 (1969)

Actually, back to our regularly scheduled programming.


February 17 and 21, 2007

Back to Dublin

What we actually did was head to Dublin from Galway, spend the night of the 17th in Dublin, head to Paris later on the 18th, and then went back to Dublin on the 21st and went home the 22nd. I'm going to talk about our experiences both times in Dublin in this blog and then let Ben, Wendy, Bruce and Megan do most of the writing on Paris since Melissa and I didn't do much there (I was running down).

I think we should handle "Wendy and the International Jam Incident" separately, since there doubtless will be much to write on that. I 'll write the outsiders' perspective, but we need the inside scoop from Ben and Wendy for that one. I'm going to have an MRI and see the radiation oncologist on Friday, so if you guys (all four of you) can have something to me on Paris by Monday, that would be great. Just e-mail me.

We head to Dublin with Gene at the helm. This is our last time we'll see him (at least for the immediate future) and I think we are all a bit saddened by the prospect. We get a goodbye picture of Gene (above). Goodbye Gene, we hardly knew ye. Some free advertising for Gene and our travel agent Chris Woolson:

The boys head off to the Vesey Arms pub, which at one time belonged to some of Bruce's relatives. It's a nice place, former home to the Italian Embassy, and recently remodeled so the decor is quite a bit different than the pubs which we have frequented other than the ceiling and a couple of chandeliers. The bartenders and waitresses are all drop dead dead gorgeous. Most of them appear to be from former Soviet bloc countries such as Romania, and a couple of Asian women are thrown in for good measure. Ben says to Bruce, "looks like your relatives did okay for themselves," in the wry way that only Ben can.

We then head off to the Guinness Brewery for a tour, but after an hour or so in line, it becomes apparent that we not going to get in, get through the tour and get back to Davy Byrnes' Pub by the agreed upon meeting time. So we split and meet up with the girls at Byrnes' . By this time, we are powerful thirsty from standing in line so we knock back a couple of drinks before going in search of "traditional" Irish music. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find something other than American rock and roll in Ireland. (Still the Irish do a pretty good job of that: Van Morrison and U2 is pretty damn good for a nation of 4million people.) We head to a place named the Dublin Porterhouse that brews their own beer, which is the only thing available on tap or in bottles, besides "imports" like Bud Light.

Melissa hates brew pubs where basically you have to drink the house stuff or pay a fortune for an import bottle. We have several of these type of places in Des Moines, but she's right: you either have to drink their crap or imports in bottles. I drink their stuff which isn't half bad, and Melissa tries a sip or two of their stuff and orders a gin and tonic. We go to the Dublin Chop House for dinner, and it is unmemorable (or at least I don't remember it ). We then seek out some Irish music.

We eventually find some in the strangest pub I've ever seen. On the first floor it is basically a 20's pickup joint with fairly decent American rock n' roll playing. We decide to go upstairs where the bartender says the traditional Irish music is playing. We all get a drink and start toward the stairs. As we near the stairs, we encounter a couple a guys dressed as chicks. I think it's a little strange and wonder if there 's some fraternity prank or some weird Irish holiday going on. We make it up to the second floor, and I'll be damned if it isn't full of transvestites dancing to that techno music crap. Who would have thought??!! We head up to the third floor, and find Traditional Irish music and a ton of people in their 50's. It is absolutely packed. Apparently, the art of traditional Irish music is hard to come by in the off season. The locals have to play it during the busy season, and so they are reluctant to play or listen to it in the off season which I can certainly understand. "Danny Boy" is nice once in a while, but I imagine it gets pretty old ten times a night every night of the week.

We listen for about two more drinks worth and then head back to the hotel for tomorrow's trip to France. (I (We, hopefully) will be writing about France in another Chapter of this blog. So for now, we are skipping ahead to our return from France on the 21st wherein we spent about 1/2 day and the night in Dublin).

After returning from that godforsaken country, we discuss what else we want to see. We go see the Book of Kells, one of the world's oldest and most Beautiful Bible at Trinity College. Definitely worth seeing. We buy some trinkets and trash at the bookstore and then head to the Guinness Brewery again. Again, we are shafted in the long line but do take the opportunity to look for trinkets and trash in their gift shop. We meet up with everyone for an appetizer dinner at Kennedy's (about three blocks from the Mont Clare Hotel where we are staying). For our last stop, we go the the Brazen Head, which is just your ordinary 800 year old tavern. (Established in 1198). Here's a picture which is one of my favorites:

Here's a couple More:


Feck the French. Kinda sums it all up doesn't it? We posted this in the Brazen Head (the small room off the Main bar by the fireplace).