Monday, January 23, 2006

"Sometimes If It Weren't for Bad Luck..."



Well... just when ya think... it couldn't get much worse...

Even though my viral load went down to ZERO lately, I've been getting all sorts of side effect, "wootchie-bootchies" from the Hep C.
Something called "Lichen Planus" whose symptoms are mouth sores, nail splitting, and a rash on my entire body that has transcended mere "itchyness"... and has gone onto a cross between feeling like my body is on fire... and a semi-nervous condition.
Compound this with the fact that for the longest time, I couldn't get conclusive confirmations as to what I had for sure, and what to actually do about it from the doctors that I went to.
And finding a dermatologist who takes my insurance was just about next to impossible. Until I finally found one a few towns away who accepted it, but was only there on sundays.
I was there in a heartbeat!

Now also during the past few weeks, I've developed quite a lil sore on my lower lip, that just wouldn't seem to heal.
When I got to the derma guy, and after checking me out for a bit, he said that I had about 6 to 8 different diseases that would prolly keep us busy for the next couple of weeks.
He proceeded to write me out like 8 different prescriptons, one was for some kinda "magic oil" that he said would kill the rash in a few days!
Whoo-hoo...!!!
Finally! A halfway decent doctor, who seemed to know what he was doing, knew what I had... and how to treat it!

Then he looked at my lip and stated in his Russian Jewish accent...
"Datz gotta coom uff yuh knyow...?"
I was like..."Exsqueeze me...? Come... OFF...???"
He then proceeded to whip out four large needles and zapped me right in da lip with novocaine.
"FUCKIN'...OW...!!!!"
Within 2 seconds I went from a caucasian... to Eddie Murphy going thru those weird "liver lipped" changes in "The Nutty Proffessor".
All I needed were a couple of plates, and some neck bands, and I coulda joined my local Ubangi Oombabamowmow Social Club.
He then sliced off a hunk with a scalpel for a biopsy.
Then, in my now ultra numbed up state with my eyes wide shut...
I asked, "Someone cookin' a steak...?"
Hearing a sizzle... I opened my eyes to see him busily woikin' my lower lip with a Black & Decker soldering iron, like some transistor radio repairman!
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH...!!!"

Later on after the novacaine wore off, I felt like I was kicked in da face by a mule, and I couldn't get away from dat smell of singed flesh.
"Yuck!"
But... soon after filling my prescriptions, and using them for about a week now...
I am happy to report he wasn't lyin' about dat "magic oil" getting rid of my rash.
It's clearing up nicely!
(thank GOD for small miracles.)

Last night around 9 pm I was cooking dinner for my mom & daughter when the phone rang, and I heard my mom say,
"Who...? His dermatologist...?"
It was my doctor on the other end.
He said that he was sorry to report to me that the biopsy came back from my lip, and that I had "Squamous Cell Carcinoma"...

Cancer.

If this "run of luck" I've been having lately was GOOD luck...
I'd be frickin' DANGEROUS with a "dollar & a dream" and the New Jersey Figgedy-Farkin' Lottery!

So the doctor also told me that this type of cancer wasn't like ordinary skin cancer, was "serious", and has to be treated immediately. So with his advice, I hadda make arrangements to go to the Cancer Institute of New Jersey in New Brunswick next monday.
It seems like a really state-of-the-art joint, with a very friendly, helpful staff.
No waiting on hold for an hour when you call, or being told that there are no appointments till 6 months from now... like da fucking University of Medicine & Dentistry of New Jersey that I've been going to lately.
Wutta ZOO dat iz!

From what I researched so far, the treatment for this is either surgury, internal or external radiation treatment...
or "all of the above".
And naturally all this brings dat "inner hypochondriac" in me right da fuck out to play...!
My mind has been going from me looking like PigPen from the Peanuts comics, with four hairs coming outta my bald noggin'...
to a lipless "Fire Marshall Bill" from "In Living Color"...
("Coob yoo pweeze pit up my dentures... I can't sheem to keeps dem in...!")
to picturing some "nice epitaph on my tombstone"...

Since last night, I've been going from intense fear, to tears, to anger, and then to hysterical laughter...
COULD ONLY HAPPEN TO FUCKING ME!
I'm gonna look like Vincent Price in "The House of Wax"...!!!!
All I need is a big, black fedora and a cloak!
And so I am trying DESPARATELY to keep my mind away from bad pictures, and trying to see a positive outcome in all this.

So uh... yeah...
Datz about all I got for now.
Will keep yaz posted when I know more.
Wish me luck...

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