Kevin's Dead Cat

After surgery sliced off an entire tumor and 1/3 of my tongue, plus six weeks of radiation therapy, I've been re-learning how to eat, drink, and talk with my newly re-constructed tongue and coping with side effects. But the cancer came back and I don't know what's going to happen next.

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Location: Los Angeles, California, United States

I don't want life to imitate art. I want life to be art.

Monday, November 22, 2004


Today I was sent to "The Ark" (treatment room 2b). A very cute technician named Patrick worked the controls. He's been hanging out at Galactica for a week or so. I always wondered who he was.

Bush is in the White House, U2 has a new record out, and according to today's weigh-in I weigh the same as I did freshman year in college... my God it's the 80s again. Maybe I should start wearing all my concert t-shirts from back in the day. Is it true that Duran Duran is going to be touring soon?

I also had a consult with one of the Radiation doctors. He said that the redness on my face and neck would be around for a few MONTHS after treatments ended. He told me to stop using the aloe vera gel and prescribed some ointment called Biafine RE. I'm also supposed to wear a hat because the area shouldn't be exposed to direct sunlight. I don't look very good in hats. Maybe I should get a parasol, or I could score a coolie hat in Chinatown or sombrero at Olvera Street (I love Downtown LA!).

The radiation burn on my tongue is killing me! I can't eat anything too hot or too cold, no citrus, no spicy food, nothing crunchy,... which doesn't leave very much. About all I can stand to put in my mouth now are scrambled eggs, tofu, and yogurt. Even lentil soup is excruciating. And this afternoon's fifteen minute nap ended up lasting three hours.

Just four more sessions...

So, the shower at the loft is supposed to be installed tomorrow. I could be sleeping downtown as early as this weekend. There's a big sale at K-Mart, so I bought this insane Black & Decker toaster oven. It's all chrome and black, and soooo sexy. If I didn't like homemade pizza so much, I could probably make do with just that, my rotisserie oven, and my microwave oven. But I guess I would also have to buy a hot plate.

I stopped by the loft this morning to pick up mail, and discovered that the geniuses who painted the walls also painted over the safe door. So now I can't get it open without either paint thinner or a crowbar. Moments like these remind me why I shouldn't own a gun.


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