Monday, November 23, 2015

Everything is relative, including cancer

Entry 3 in the colorectal cancer blog journal "I've Got a Mass in My Ass".

It's been hugely gratifying to receive so many well wishes after my first couple of blog posts on dealing with a stage 3 colorectal cancer diagnosis.  In light of the much-appreciated accolades for having a positive attitude and approaching this challenge with humour, it's worth reiterating that it's easy for me to crack wise because I have a decent prognosis.  Nothing is guaranteed and I won't know whether and to what extent my radiation and chemo treatments are working until the surgeon boldly goes where no man has gone before, but I feel fine mentally and physically, which is more than can be said for some of the people whose paths I cross on a daily basis at the hospital.  Last week, I shared a waiting area with a father and his teenaged son.  The son was undergoing treatment, and his dad's emotional burden was palpable.  It was unspoken but obvious that he would trade places with his boy in a second - as any loving parent would - and it made me grateful that it's me and not one of my kids who's been dealt this hand.  I can only imagine that father's feelings of fear and helplessness.  There but for the grace of God...

Shout out to the gang in radiation oncology room 6
I go to the same treatment room at the hospital and deal with the same staff just about every day, and when they found out I work on the radio they thought that was pretty cool.  I thought it was cool that they thought it was cool, because they're all in their 20s, and their curiosity about my work reassured me that not everyone under 30 looks at pre-millennial pop culture and technology with fustian hipster disdain.  Anyway, I promised to give them a shout out on the air at 8:15am the next day, didn't remember until 9:45 and got one of their names and the name of their department wrong.  And they still thought it was cool.  Suck it, hipsters.

They're magically antimetabolic!
My hospital-appointed dietitian says Lucky Charms don't cure cancer, to which I say, "It's never been tried."  And that's why I'm a visionary pioneer in the field of medical research when I'm not cranking out yesterday's hits and the day before yesterday's classics on lite and refreshing Jewel 106.7 FM.  


  1. Ted good luck i just read this now. Youtube the truth about cancer by ty bollinger for some great strategies. Nutrition is key. Thc oil is also something worth investigating. Stay strong and beat the shir outta this. JF

  2. WTF Ted!! I don't check up on you for a little while and you go and get yourself some disgusting disease. I thought you went for colonoscopies every year? (So you and Terry discussed many times on radio). You're offbeat humour has made me laugh and sometimes cringed and FWIW, in my book you're a great guy. Anyhoo (as you say), I just want to wish you godspeed. You're going to beat that motherfucker!

    Luc (yes, the astronomy guy)

  3. Hey Ted. Just read the news. You have to get better. The image of you in a hospital gown is too overwhelming. Good luck. Get better for all the people out there who enjoy your voice and appreciate you. We are many.