TUMOR REPORT: MIKE KELLY GETS THE COOKIE

A tumor report is what you get if you find a tumor.

Mike Kelly found one the hard way:

I was having trouble finding words, getting them out of my mouth and, to top it all off, I had an episode Sunday night — while we were watching “Call the Midwife” — where I could not get past a single syllable that I just kept sort of stuttering.

In other words, not good.

Kelly goes on to tell us he’s had other problems, just not something as dire as an irregular shaped mass in his melon.

Up until Monday, my top medical story was the cancer that seems determined not to leave my body, but this little revelation trumped all my other health problems, of which there have been quite an assortment over the past couple of decades.

Does this seem like a trend with baby boomers and their baby boomer friends?

I’d say his ‘Check Engine’ light is on

Mikel Kelly retired from newspapers in 2015 and now spends most of his time going to an assortment of medical professionals. In his spare time he yells at kids to get off his lawn.

I can’t say it’s a relief to read about someone else going through things and writing about it. I’m not one to wish ill-health on anyone.

Those special words, “You’re not alone,” are nice right up until it sinks in that yes you are. But maybe that’s just me being selfish and not sharing enough.

Mike wasn’t alone.

His tumor report came with restrictions.

The immediate result of this whole thing is, I’m not allowed to drive a car, so I’m being chauffeured everywhere by the woman who married me almost exactly 55 years ago. 

Why do I find this so damn sweet? Yesterday was my 36th wedding anniversary.

I had a decade off the leash of where are you, where are you going, what are you doing, when will you be back?

No one to ask, “What’s that lump on your neck?” Or, “Does it feel like you’ve been repeating yourself more than usual lately.” Or, “Can I take you to the Emergency Room?”

Those are important questions.

I got married when I started answering them like a normal person which led to thirty-five other anniversaries before yesterday.

About anniversaries, then back to Mike.

Lake Oswego’s Taste Of Italy

Thirty-six year later we parked the rig and walked into Nicoletta’s Table.

(My wife has people who like her enough to give her a gift certificate before the pandemic.)

Yesterday was also four weeks to the day after my hip replacement. Yep, I’m bragging.

We sat down to an Italian feast like we’d had on our wedding day, which is how I remember it, honey.

We toasted our kids, their wives (one in waiting.) We toasted our granddaughter. Then our parents, our brothers and sisters.

The last toast went to Ruby Lee.

Tradition Was Not Dead Yesterday

From the top:

Left to right:

Was it everything and then some? That, and more.

I picked up a paper on the way out and found Mike Kelly’s tumor report.

I’m a fan of local journalism, competitive whining, and a new fan of the Table.

For Anyone On Tumor Report

Writing about personal health is a great way to take the edge off. I do it all the time.

The worse the health scare, the better the story.

Unless it’s someone else’s health scare. That’s not a good story, ever, unless they tell it.

What I’ve learned in the course of overcoming things is the effect my effort, or lack of effort, has had on others in my little circle.

Around here, if you don’t hop to it the way they think you ought to be hopping, you get an earful.

While I was busy failing to recover from radiation and chemo for HPV neck cancer the fuckers ambushed me with an intervention tag-team ass kicking that actually turned the page from what felt like a death spiral to hope and recovery. I’ll have my revenge.

After spending night in ICU after a broken hearted family reunion at my step-dad’s memorial, the sympathy was short-lived. On my part.

No one has ever told me I’m too hard on myself, and I’d be the last to admit, but it turns out I do have stamina. And tolerance. And understanding, or at least trying to understand things.

And feelings.

An Infusion Of Health Humor

I’m tipping my hat to Mike for what he’s done by writing about his health journey:

I do have an appointment with another brain specialist in Tualatin in another couple of weeks — I’m not a complete idiot and I know the value of a second opinion. If there’s anything new to report after that, you can rest assured I’ll be back with the details. 

Meanwhile, don’t be surprised if I continue to pounce on that last cookie, shouting, “Dibs! The cancer kid with a tumor gets it!”

And he’ll fight you for it. Mike 1, You 0.

Get that second opinion, make time for each other, and book a table at Nicoletta’s.

Lastly, if you’re not behind the steering wheel, don’t tell the other person how to drive. I’m leaving it at that, not that anyone I know does it.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

This is Mike and I from 2011. We’re like family.

Mr. Gillaspie injected something I don’t get a lot in my online comments – humor, and quite subtle humor at that.

Another resume builder:

Well said, Mr. Gillaspie. You could teach a seminar on how to respond to crackpot writers and speakers and even one-up them without being a horse’s hind end.

How you not like Mike Kelly?