Gas went through $3 here yesterday. All of the car mags are showing 'small' cars and asking "Is this the way forward?"
As I walked the dog I saw this... obviously America has a long way to go before it breaks its 'addiction to oil'
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Gas at $3 a gallon
Gas went through $3 here yesterday. All of the car mags are showing 'small' cars and asking "Is this the way forward?"
As I walked the dog I saw this... obviously America has a long way to go before it breaks its 'addiction to oil'
Still knackered
For some strange reason I continue to be knackered this week. Perhaps I did too much on Monday and Tuesday. Went into work yesterday but had to leave early and by 3pm was asleep on the sofa despite the best efforts of Penn and Teller to entertain me.
My High Potentials Graduation Gift (HP_GG) arrived. It's a badly made perspex box that contains some heavy, but useless miniature versions of our Creative Council Score Cards (CCSC). I'm not entire sure what I'm supposed to do with a faux slate mini card engraved with the legend '01 Wasteful' but I guess that's now my problem rather than theirs.
Was invited to a Yankees game yesterday - but alas couldn't make it. Jude was still in Washington talking to politicians about the US's role in the lighting industry and I was asleep on the sofa. A metaphor for our lives at the moment? You betcha.
Finally Madonna tickets sold out again, so we won't be seeing her Madge-esty this year. Shame. I was online at 9.00am, but there had been an 'exclusive' pre-sale so by the time I got to the bookings page all had already gone. Will treat myself to a photo printer by way of recompense.
And that's it for now. Coughing the cough of the knackered, far from my best, further from my worst.
My High Potentials Graduation Gift (HP_GG) arrived. It's a badly made perspex box that contains some heavy, but useless miniature versions of our Creative Council Score Cards (CCSC). I'm not entire sure what I'm supposed to do with a faux slate mini card engraved with the legend '01 Wasteful' but I guess that's now my problem rather than theirs.
Was invited to a Yankees game yesterday - but alas couldn't make it. Jude was still in Washington talking to politicians about the US's role in the lighting industry and I was asleep on the sofa. A metaphor for our lives at the moment? You betcha.
Finally Madonna tickets sold out again, so we won't be seeing her Madge-esty this year. Shame. I was online at 9.00am, but there had been an 'exclusive' pre-sale so by the time I got to the bookings page all had already gone. Will treat myself to a photo printer by way of recompense.
And that's it for now. Coughing the cough of the knackered, far from my best, further from my worst.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
New blogs?
I’ve been contemplating two new blogs today.
Fabulously Thin is getting close to having run its course – with chemo 6 weeks away and no real ‘needs to be shared’ news beyond that. Of course there will be a flurry of activity as I do more scans, get back results, decide on more treatment (or not) and get to hear whether on not I’ll make the age of 40. Then of course there will be the second flurry when Dakota Fanning’s people get hold of the story (don’t worry it will be much ‘juiced’) – but ultimately I reckon there’s about 2 months of this left.
My other ideas are both much more self serving than this. Actually they’re both designed to show that I’m the cleverest man in all of advertising – and both seek to do so by giving away ideas that companies would usually have to pay for. How’s that for the cleverest business model ever? Hey I said I was clever, not savvy.
Blog one will be called “Hey Genius....”
Watching big brands struggle to nail what they’re about frustrates the hell out of me. Take Coke. Everybody knows that what Coke promises is ‘Unity’. It’s what the world has in common. One of the few things that brings us all together. Always has been. The best ads have been exactly about that (‘I’d like to buy the world a coke’!). It’s also the reason that Coke sponsorships of other events that bring the world together (like the World Cup) always seem to bring out the best in Coke communication. But Coke keep missing it.
So that’s Blog one. A big brand per day. An idea per day. A couple examples of what that might practically mean per day. And a fervent hope that they find the post and do something with it… (Nike I’m going to start with you and ‘Participation’)
Second one is just mischief really. I’ll call it ‘Pitch Perfect’ and post a strategy for every advertising pitch that’s ‘live’ out there. The real reason for this one is to piss off the ‘pitch planners’ who charge a fortune to quote the fucking obvious at length and with the use of too many adverbs. My site will say the same stuff, more clearly and for free. Put that in your pipes and smoke it.
As I said – self serving – but isn’t that what blogging is about?
Fabulously Thin is getting close to having run its course – with chemo 6 weeks away and no real ‘needs to be shared’ news beyond that. Of course there will be a flurry of activity as I do more scans, get back results, decide on more treatment (or not) and get to hear whether on not I’ll make the age of 40. Then of course there will be the second flurry when Dakota Fanning’s people get hold of the story (don’t worry it will be much ‘juiced’) – but ultimately I reckon there’s about 2 months of this left.
My other ideas are both much more self serving than this. Actually they’re both designed to show that I’m the cleverest man in all of advertising – and both seek to do so by giving away ideas that companies would usually have to pay for. How’s that for the cleverest business model ever? Hey I said I was clever, not savvy.
Blog one will be called “Hey Genius....”
Watching big brands struggle to nail what they’re about frustrates the hell out of me. Take Coke. Everybody knows that what Coke promises is ‘Unity’. It’s what the world has in common. One of the few things that brings us all together. Always has been. The best ads have been exactly about that (‘I’d like to buy the world a coke’!). It’s also the reason that Coke sponsorships of other events that bring the world together (like the World Cup) always seem to bring out the best in Coke communication. But Coke keep missing it.
So that’s Blog one. A big brand per day. An idea per day. A couple examples of what that might practically mean per day. And a fervent hope that they find the post and do something with it… (Nike I’m going to start with you and ‘Participation’)
Second one is just mischief really. I’ll call it ‘Pitch Perfect’ and post a strategy for every advertising pitch that’s ‘live’ out there. The real reason for this one is to piss off the ‘pitch planners’ who charge a fortune to quote the fucking obvious at length and with the use of too many adverbs. My site will say the same stuff, more clearly and for free. Put that in your pipes and smoke it.
As I said – self serving – but isn’t that what blogging is about?
Where's Steve
I don't think that I can manage work today - and I feel more guilty about it you than you can imagine. It's a big week at work yet since Monday I've been sitting, close to my couch, feeling as though someone has filled my ankles with mercury (or something else heavy and poisonous). If only I had a symptom more violent or volatile. This one is so passive and yet... it seems to be enough to stop me managing to do very much. Every burst of energy is followed by the feeling that I've just completed a marathon, in costume, carrying a small woman on my back.
This, of course, is a symptom of the drugs rather than the disease but it's driving me to distraction. Ultimatelty I hate letting people down - and being here rather than at work where people need me IS letting somebody down. No amount of phone, e-mail or BlackBerry content can change that.
Mind it's such a big week that a million big people have stepped in to fill my shoes. We have company Presidents and Country Planning directors all being able in my absence so maybe I should just follow my Sydney incantation and 'let go and trust' - after all I wrote the brief, I decided on what should accompany the brief, I helped sell the brief - it's just that I won't be there to physically deliver the brief.
'Let go and trust'
This, of course, is a symptom of the drugs rather than the disease but it's driving me to distraction. Ultimatelty I hate letting people down - and being here rather than at work where people need me IS letting somebody down. No amount of phone, e-mail or BlackBerry content can change that.
Mind it's such a big week that a million big people have stepped in to fill my shoes. We have company Presidents and Country Planning directors all being able in my absence so maybe I should just follow my Sydney incantation and 'let go and trust' - after all I wrote the brief, I decided on what should accompany the brief, I helped sell the brief - it's just that I won't be there to physically deliver the brief.
'Let go and trust'
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Soppy Sod
So Judith’s brother just packed up his enormous bag and left New York for London – almost exactly a year after he arrived. He left on a beautiful spring day – filled with glorious sunshine and easy company and it’s made me enormously sad.
Of course he’s leaving for all of the right reasons, he has the right mix of people & opportunities to be really happy in London – and it’s a brave man who pays his way out of a contract and ‘follows his bliss’. I know he’ll find it there.
But it’s not his leaving that makes me sad. It’s remembering him arriving – on a gloriously sunny spring day filled with easy company. It’s amazing to think how hard the year between then and now has been – and how we had no idea that it was going to be so tough. Had someone shown us that day the year that we had in store I’m not sure any of us could have imagined living through it.
There’s been the illness and death of Jude’s dad, her mom’s relocation, her brother’s company dissolving into tiny fragments leaving him looking for a role in a strange city, my sickness, delayed diagnosis and treatment.
It’ s been a year of reconsideration, relocation and lots and lots of deep breaths.
And each of us has had to handle pieces of it alone. There’s been so much going on that we haven’t wanted to add another burden to the other’s and so sometimes we’ve struggled in silence when we should have asked for help. Or pulled away when we should have allowed ourselves to be hugged. Or iced over at an unexpected display of warmth.
But I hope that through it all we’ve never forgotten that we cared. Never stopped hoping for the other’s happiness. Never stopped wishing that the other does a little better today than yesterday.
I’m glad I had today, in the sunshine with people that I care about. Because it was a day when none of us felt the need to protect the others, a day when we could just ‘be’ rather than one where we had to ‘be aware’
I hope that the coming year is filled with more and more days like this. That we each find the easy going happiness that we deserve.
And that we look back on 12 months as something that we all went through knowing that when the it really came to it – somebody would be there – and that that will be the case going forward.
Of course he’s leaving for all of the right reasons, he has the right mix of people & opportunities to be really happy in London – and it’s a brave man who pays his way out of a contract and ‘follows his bliss’. I know he’ll find it there.
But it’s not his leaving that makes me sad. It’s remembering him arriving – on a gloriously sunny spring day filled with easy company. It’s amazing to think how hard the year between then and now has been – and how we had no idea that it was going to be so tough. Had someone shown us that day the year that we had in store I’m not sure any of us could have imagined living through it.
There’s been the illness and death of Jude’s dad, her mom’s relocation, her brother’s company dissolving into tiny fragments leaving him looking for a role in a strange city, my sickness, delayed diagnosis and treatment.
It’ s been a year of reconsideration, relocation and lots and lots of deep breaths.
And each of us has had to handle pieces of it alone. There’s been so much going on that we haven’t wanted to add another burden to the other’s and so sometimes we’ve struggled in silence when we should have asked for help. Or pulled away when we should have allowed ourselves to be hugged. Or iced over at an unexpected display of warmth.
But I hope that through it all we’ve never forgotten that we cared. Never stopped hoping for the other’s happiness. Never stopped wishing that the other does a little better today than yesterday.
I’m glad I had today, in the sunshine with people that I care about. Because it was a day when none of us felt the need to protect the others, a day when we could just ‘be’ rather than one where we had to ‘be aware’
I hope that the coming year is filled with more and more days like this. That we each find the easy going happiness that we deserve.
And that we look back on 12 months as something that we all went through knowing that when the it really came to it – somebody would be there – and that that will be the case going forward.
Paris Hilton Sex Tape
Apparently you can get lots of hits on your blog if blogger search finds phrases like 'Kylie wrestling in jelly' or 'Dido done with Dodi's dildo' hidden within the text.
I of course would find such trolling for an audience beneath me.
Yup, I'm feeling much better - and the retention problem (I gained 13lbs over the weekend) seems to be resolving itself nicely
I of course would find such trolling for an audience beneath me.
Yup, I'm feeling much better - and the retention problem (I gained 13lbs over the weekend) seems to be resolving itself nicely
Monday, April 17, 2006
As tired as Tarby's act
Absolutely knackered today.
Just back in from traipsing around the park in the wake of the dog whilst feeling every step vibrating somewhere deep and weary making in my bones.
The reason? A chemo session this morning followed by an afternoon at work attempting to run a spine through what might otherwise have become the world’s sexiest jellyfish. And sure whilst being the world’s sexiest jellyfish is an accolade - don’t expect the world to go to bed moist and eager each night, thoughts of jellyfish in their heads and of tentacles replacing their probing fingers. So it now has a spine. And a chance to walk on land. And I’m happier. But SO tired. Glad I made that so clear.
Interesting to do a conference call from a hospital recliner too. I’m better when I pace and it’s hard to pace when one of the wheels on your drip is wonky.
Wanted to do the motor show this evening but not sure I can make it as far as the sofa – let alone the Jocovits (?) centre.
Anyway jellyfish now suitably backboned, dog happily trotted, dinner still to be digested.
Then a very, very early night for me.
Just back in from traipsing around the park in the wake of the dog whilst feeling every step vibrating somewhere deep and weary making in my bones.
The reason? A chemo session this morning followed by an afternoon at work attempting to run a spine through what might otherwise have become the world’s sexiest jellyfish. And sure whilst being the world’s sexiest jellyfish is an accolade - don’t expect the world to go to bed moist and eager each night, thoughts of jellyfish in their heads and of tentacles replacing their probing fingers. So it now has a spine. And a chance to walk on land. And I’m happier. But SO tired. Glad I made that so clear.
Interesting to do a conference call from a hospital recliner too. I’m better when I pace and it’s hard to pace when one of the wheels on your drip is wonky.
Wanted to do the motor show this evening but not sure I can make it as far as the sofa – let alone the Jocovits (?) centre.
Anyway jellyfish now suitably backboned, dog happily trotted, dinner still to be digested.
Then a very, very early night for me.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Easy like Sunday morning (the faith no more version)
So it's early Sunday morning and I'm surrounded by animals, animal hair and tiny amounts of our new, rather bad, cat litter - which seems to spread around the house independent of the cats. My weather widget is telling me that the temperature outside has dropped from yesterday's 27C to a less balmy 11C - which probably means I should feed and walk the dog before the heat starts rising and people start to tell me 'hey man, I think your dog is really warm'
Still it makes a difference from the universal cry of 'Shaggy Dog, shaggy dog' we've been getting since that damned Tim Allen movie.
I seem tobe replacing food with a mad spending spree. Expensive brunch yesterday, tickets for The Importance Of Being Earnest, ready to bid on Madonna tickets as soon as the extra show is released (I refused to enter the previous auction - floor level seats were up to $3500) and of course the seats for the US tennis open go on sale pretty soon too. Oh and I have tickets for the New York Auto Show too - a bargain at $14.
Off to see 'The miracle of life the birth of Sean Preston Spears' later today. It's a sculpture of Britney giving birth, on all fours, on a bearskin rug - and it's on display just down the road, so I have to really, don't I?
Not a great deal else going on - eating well, feeling well, one chemo to go
PS - what a weird picture
Still it makes a difference from the universal cry of 'Shaggy Dog, shaggy dog' we've been getting since that damned Tim Allen movie.
I seem tobe replacing food with a mad spending spree. Expensive brunch yesterday, tickets for The Importance Of Being Earnest, ready to bid on Madonna tickets as soon as the extra show is released (I refused to enter the previous auction - floor level seats were up to $3500) and of course the seats for the US tennis open go on sale pretty soon too. Oh and I have tickets for the New York Auto Show too - a bargain at $14.
Off to see 'The miracle of life the birth of Sean Preston Spears' later today. It's a sculpture of Britney giving birth, on all fours, on a bearskin rug - and it's on display just down the road, so I have to really, don't I?
Not a great deal else going on - eating well, feeling well, one chemo to go
PS - what a weird picture
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Trying a post from widget...
Okay, here's a post from the blogger widgit - how high tech of me.
The first day after Chemo V and I seem to be doing a lot better... nurse was in such a hurry to get the drugs into me (and me out of the chair) that she pushed at three times the normal speed... continuing even as I vomitted noisily into a bucket.
Still managed to hold down the one chip I nicked last night (but only just) and to have a good brunch today (mind it cost a fortune... green salad, poached salmon in champagne saucy thing, strawberry ice-cream, OJ, coffee - tres Parisian)
Will spend the evening wih my feet up in front of Capote. Marvellous.
The first day after Chemo V and I seem to be doing a lot better... nurse was in such a hurry to get the drugs into me (and me out of the chair) that she pushed at three times the normal speed... continuing even as I vomitted noisily into a bucket.
Still managed to hold down the one chip I nicked last night (but only just) and to have a good brunch today (mind it cost a fortune... green salad, poached salmon in champagne saucy thing, strawberry ice-cream, OJ, coffee - tres Parisian)
Will spend the evening wih my feet up in front of Capote. Marvellous.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Spring - said Zebadee
So Chemo V tomorrow (let’s hope it’s better than Rocky V) and I’ve decided that it will be the chemo of better eating. I’ve felt great during Chemo IV but have rammed anything even resembling a sticky bun so far down my greedy gullet that I choked on my fingers - gaining 8lbs in 3 weeks as a result.
Nurses, doctors etc. all think that this is a great thing – they reckon without my new wardrobe (I can’t bring myself to say ‘closet’) of 29” waisted trousers.
So what pre-treatment news from me? Well I went out to get a manicure today. When the place was closed I tried to buy a photo printer instead (try making that link). When that didn’t work out I went and spent a minor fortune on hemp based trousers and visited a Polish store with the intent of buying a multi-system LCD TV so big you'd think it was related to Mandissa's knickers. I do believe that I’m morphing into a bored Connecticut housewife. All I need now is to have my tits lifted, the more they resemble earrings the better the Martha's and Clarissa's of this world like 'em.
Anyway Chemo V – lots of fresh fruit and veggies, no Easter Eggs (chomping down on the last this afternoon), no giagantic cookies from Sette Pani, no Chocolate Croissants from the new French bakery (even if they are half the size of American breakfast items) and no sneaky visits to the chip shop for a ‘small’ cod and chips.
Sounds miserable dunnit?
Still the sun is out (it’s 25C outside), my camera is back in action (there’s nothing like the sun to bring out Williamsburg’s weirdest) and everyone I know is pregnant – so I have the perfect excuse to hit Sam and Sebastian any buy baby Che T-Shirts.
Life, as they say, is beautiful.
Nurses, doctors etc. all think that this is a great thing – they reckon without my new wardrobe (I can’t bring myself to say ‘closet’) of 29” waisted trousers.
So what pre-treatment news from me? Well I went out to get a manicure today. When the place was closed I tried to buy a photo printer instead (try making that link). When that didn’t work out I went and spent a minor fortune on hemp based trousers and visited a Polish store with the intent of buying a multi-system LCD TV so big you'd think it was related to Mandissa's knickers. I do believe that I’m morphing into a bored Connecticut housewife. All I need now is to have my tits lifted, the more they resemble earrings the better the Martha's and Clarissa's of this world like 'em.
Anyway Chemo V – lots of fresh fruit and veggies, no Easter Eggs (chomping down on the last this afternoon), no giagantic cookies from Sette Pani, no Chocolate Croissants from the new French bakery (even if they are half the size of American breakfast items) and no sneaky visits to the chip shop for a ‘small’ cod and chips.
Sounds miserable dunnit?
Still the sun is out (it’s 25C outside), my camera is back in action (there’s nothing like the sun to bring out Williamsburg’s weirdest) and everyone I know is pregnant – so I have the perfect excuse to hit Sam and Sebastian any buy baby Che T-Shirts.
Life, as they say, is beautiful.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Dr Mazda
So got to the hospital at 9.45
Was stuck for blood
Then ushered into suite 3A where I met with Nurse Maureen
Then told Dr would be right in
Time : 10.05
He showed up at 11.10.
Shook my hand, told me that he was pleased, that decisions on radiotherapy etc could wait, that my results are as close to perfect as you could hope and was gone in a cloud of expensive cologne.
Zoom-zoom-ZOOM
Time : 11.12
Cost : $1400
I make that a possible $40,000 an hour.
Still the news was good
Was stuck for blood
Then ushered into suite 3A where I met with Nurse Maureen
Then told Dr would be right in
Time : 10.05
He showed up at 11.10.
Shook my hand, told me that he was pleased, that decisions on radiotherapy etc could wait, that my results are as close to perfect as you could hope and was gone in a cloud of expensive cologne.
Zoom-zoom-ZOOM
Time : 11.12
Cost : $1400
I make that a possible $40,000 an hour.
Still the news was good
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Quick post
As I have a ten o'clock with my oncologist.
I know that the news is good, I've been told that repeatedly and have the results with the 'Excellent response to treatment' written on them and yet I'm still approaching this meeting with some trepidation. I wonder why that is?
More later - when I'm back
I know that the news is good, I've been told that repeatedly and have the results with the 'Excellent response to treatment' written on them and yet I'm still approaching this meeting with some trepidation. I wonder why that is?
More later - when I'm back
Sunday, April 09, 2006
What a gay day
Had brunch at the cafe pictured here today, sunshine, crisp clean air, my wife and an old friend from Sydney...
... then spent HOURS looking for a bar, eventually ending up in the garden of Williamsburg's least cool spot - a place so unhip that I'm expecting the BillyBurg police to arrive and revoke my provisional hipster license at any moment.
Luckily Chemo Chic is a very B'Burg look so I might just blag my way to an extension - unless they call during America's Funniest Home Videos (the epitome of Suburban sensibility and one of my personal favorites) in which case I'll be forced to eat meat outside of a vegan restaurant and stoned to death with mouldy tofu.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
boring, boring cancer patient
Chemo V rapidly approaching… I just hope that it goes as well as Chemo IV; which seemed to fly by after a rather dodgy first evening. I’ve felt good throughout this round and am hoping to carry that through to the next one.
I see my oncologist on Tuesday when I’ll find out more about results to date, treatment regime post chemo and long term prognosis. I know that radiotherapy is very likely to be a part of my immediate future, but how much and for how long remains a mystery.
Saw our friend Elisa play at the Knitting Factory last night and kinda wish that we’d hung out after but am risking nothing at the moment and so headed for home and was in bed by midnight as a good cancer patient should be. She was really good yesterday, I wish I was in a position to help her in some way because it’s music that deserves a wider audience.
Anyway that’s about it, nothing particularly exciting to say or report but another ‘not dead yet’ missive fired into cyberspace (do people still use that term?)
I see my oncologist on Tuesday when I’ll find out more about results to date, treatment regime post chemo and long term prognosis. I know that radiotherapy is very likely to be a part of my immediate future, but how much and for how long remains a mystery.
Saw our friend Elisa play at the Knitting Factory last night and kinda wish that we’d hung out after but am risking nothing at the moment and so headed for home and was in bed by midnight as a good cancer patient should be. She was really good yesterday, I wish I was in a position to help her in some way because it’s music that deserves a wider audience.
Anyway that’s about it, nothing particularly exciting to say or report but another ‘not dead yet’ missive fired into cyberspace (do people still use that term?)
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Quick thought
I think I know what caused the euphoria...
Somebody hit this site having Google'd
"john inman widow twanky"
Made my decade
Somebody hit this site having Google'd
"john inman widow twanky"
Made my decade
Bouncing off the walls
For some reason today has seen me full of vim and vigor. I can’t remember the last time I had this much energy, it’s bizarre.. I’m still amazed when I ‘overtake’ someone on the subway stairs, or unthinkingly run to catch a train then catch myself – not out of breath, not vomiting, not searching for yet more tissues into which I could hack up bits of lung but upright, comfortable, ‘ordinary’
The last few months have given me a glimpse of old age – losing the feeling in my fingertips makes searching for change harder, buttoning up a jacket more of a challenge. Losing most of my lung capacity meant taking things more slowly, pacing myself, taking breathers. Yet still I find the sight of old people hurtling toward the back of a bus as the driver loses patience and hits the gas as they fumble for a quarter the most hilarious of things. Guess I’ve grown old rather than up.
Anyway 10.30pm and a crap book, two car magazines and the Russian edition of Vice await… it could still be a good night.
The last few months have given me a glimpse of old age – losing the feeling in my fingertips makes searching for change harder, buttoning up a jacket more of a challenge. Losing most of my lung capacity meant taking things more slowly, pacing myself, taking breathers. Yet still I find the sight of old people hurtling toward the back of a bus as the driver loses patience and hits the gas as they fumble for a quarter the most hilarious of things. Guess I’ve grown old rather than up.
Anyway 10.30pm and a crap book, two car magazines and the Russian edition of Vice await… it could still be a good night.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Rich white twat
A full day at work today for the first time since November. I feel strangely proud – even though the full day was made up of a call to a very nice man in London, a couple of hours watching some smart people play with three dozen pictures that we’d given them and a conversation with a guy about a very long lasting candy. So it was hardly ditch digging – but hey I wasn’t the last in or the first to leave. Whether this represents progress I’m not entirely sure.
It snowed today too. Properly snowed. A whopping great deluge of the stuff, with huge flakes swirling in the wind accompanied by a soundtrack of 5 million muttered “It’s April”s.
Big revelation moment? I had my shoes cleaned. And realized I was being overly nice to the guy doing the cleaning. This uncharacteristic pleasantness was triggered by the realization that I only know three real ‘hispanics’ – the guy who makes my sandwiches, the woman who cleans my toilet and the guy who shines my shoes. As a result I over compensated with bigger gestures, more energy and a $2 tip. However as I hit the street the sheer shockingness of the realization hit me and I found myself flabbergasted. Utterly flummoxed by my ‘rich white guy’ twatdom. I went all post stroke halibut about the mouth and everything.
Now I’ve never been one to look for a Rainbow Alliance tone to my friends, I’m not a collector – but the people I know in New York tend to be tall, white, skinny and successful. Had I ever thrown a dinner party here it would have been dreadfully ‘Peter’s Friends’… actually it would have just been dreadful. I have an aversion to dinner parties that can only be explained by my being utterly common. The very thought of having to maintain any conversation for a length of time terrifies me… the idea that that conversation be civilized is again numbing.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I have Hispanic people do the jobs that I don’t want to for less money than I really should be paying. Perhaps that the root cause of this cancer. Or not. Who knows?
It snowed today too. Properly snowed. A whopping great deluge of the stuff, with huge flakes swirling in the wind accompanied by a soundtrack of 5 million muttered “It’s April”s.
Big revelation moment? I had my shoes cleaned. And realized I was being overly nice to the guy doing the cleaning. This uncharacteristic pleasantness was triggered by the realization that I only know three real ‘hispanics’ – the guy who makes my sandwiches, the woman who cleans my toilet and the guy who shines my shoes. As a result I over compensated with bigger gestures, more energy and a $2 tip. However as I hit the street the sheer shockingness of the realization hit me and I found myself flabbergasted. Utterly flummoxed by my ‘rich white guy’ twatdom. I went all post stroke halibut about the mouth and everything.
Now I’ve never been one to look for a Rainbow Alliance tone to my friends, I’m not a collector – but the people I know in New York tend to be tall, white, skinny and successful. Had I ever thrown a dinner party here it would have been dreadfully ‘Peter’s Friends’… actually it would have just been dreadful. I have an aversion to dinner parties that can only be explained by my being utterly common. The very thought of having to maintain any conversation for a length of time terrifies me… the idea that that conversation be civilized is again numbing.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I have Hispanic people do the jobs that I don’t want to for less money than I really should be paying. Perhaps that the root cause of this cancer. Or not. Who knows?
Monday, April 03, 2006
Lessons learned?
Home alone tonight – so cold pizza and a can of diet coke for dinner as I ponder what to do about this blog in the absence of any real news.
The original purpose of fabulouslythin.blogspot.com was entirely practical – a place to house all of the information that so many people kept calling me to enquire about. Test dates, diagnosis, prognosis, treatment schedules and follow ups.
But now – 2/3rds of the way through treatment there’s less to say – I’ve slotted into a chemo routine. It’s comfortingly dull.
Of course there are odd things – whenever I think about the orange stuff that they push into me right at the end of treatment I shudder so violently items of clothing are thrown clear of my body. When I see a Hershey’s bar (I was eating just such a confection when they ‘glooped me’ for the first time) I have to fight the urge to throw up. Even seeing the empire state building go orange for the night had me throwing up into my mouth a little.
Then there’s my profound irritation with work – where good people are stretched too thin and bad people are paid too much. Where the clients get it and the internal team doesn’t and where an attitude of exasperated belligerence is the only cool thing to be sporting.
What else? Well there’s my teeth gnashing at the jovial demeanor that people adopt during short visits to the hospital. “Oh yes, the transplant is failing, the drugs made my testicles drop off and I have an appointment to have my feet amputated this afternoon – but you’ve got to laugh haven’t you?”
And of course there’s the fake flirting as sick men try to hang on to the last vestiges of their virility by making ever so slightly suggestive comments to the nurses.
You don’t see a lot of fear in these chemo rooms. You see people who have been placed on the conveyor belt and are just trying to hang on as long as they can without getting thrown. There’s a routine to cancer treatment that’s actually quite soothing. Something about having things on the calendar that makes you believe that you’ll be around to see them. “Twenty one weeks of treatment means that they think I’ll still be here in 5 month’s time.” seems to be the thought.
Of course what happens post treatment tends to be scarier. If you’re one of the 30% given the all clear you’re suddenly out of the institution and alone to ponder whether every cough, sneeze and splutter is the beginning of the end. And to go back to the life that everyone (including you) thought would be profoundly changed by a brush with mortality.
What have I learned throughout all of this?
Well I’ve learned that my wife has a capacity to cope that is astounding.
I’ve learned that the people I’ve met here in New York are good and genuine friends and that I owe them more than another disappearance to another continent and only occasional contact.
I’ve learned that white wine is the only alcohol that I really miss – and that it’s not the alcohol but the occasion (home from work, Jeopardy, veggie chips and a selfish half hour with my wife).
I’ve learned that people only talk of ‘hope’ when it’s gone.
I’ve learned that my head isn’t quite as weirdly shaped as I’d been led to believe.
I’ve learned to let go and trust… to give some control to other people, to offer some things up to the universe and to turn off the e-mail when I get home.
But I’ve not learned to stop blathering.
The original purpose of fabulouslythin.blogspot.com was entirely practical – a place to house all of the information that so many people kept calling me to enquire about. Test dates, diagnosis, prognosis, treatment schedules and follow ups.
But now – 2/3rds of the way through treatment there’s less to say – I’ve slotted into a chemo routine. It’s comfortingly dull.
Of course there are odd things – whenever I think about the orange stuff that they push into me right at the end of treatment I shudder so violently items of clothing are thrown clear of my body. When I see a Hershey’s bar (I was eating just such a confection when they ‘glooped me’ for the first time) I have to fight the urge to throw up. Even seeing the empire state building go orange for the night had me throwing up into my mouth a little.
Then there’s my profound irritation with work – where good people are stretched too thin and bad people are paid too much. Where the clients get it and the internal team doesn’t and where an attitude of exasperated belligerence is the only cool thing to be sporting.
What else? Well there’s my teeth gnashing at the jovial demeanor that people adopt during short visits to the hospital. “Oh yes, the transplant is failing, the drugs made my testicles drop off and I have an appointment to have my feet amputated this afternoon – but you’ve got to laugh haven’t you?”
And of course there’s the fake flirting as sick men try to hang on to the last vestiges of their virility by making ever so slightly suggestive comments to the nurses.
You don’t see a lot of fear in these chemo rooms. You see people who have been placed on the conveyor belt and are just trying to hang on as long as they can without getting thrown. There’s a routine to cancer treatment that’s actually quite soothing. Something about having things on the calendar that makes you believe that you’ll be around to see them. “Twenty one weeks of treatment means that they think I’ll still be here in 5 month’s time.” seems to be the thought.
Of course what happens post treatment tends to be scarier. If you’re one of the 30% given the all clear you’re suddenly out of the institution and alone to ponder whether every cough, sneeze and splutter is the beginning of the end. And to go back to the life that everyone (including you) thought would be profoundly changed by a brush with mortality.
What have I learned throughout all of this?
Well I’ve learned that my wife has a capacity to cope that is astounding.
I’ve learned that the people I’ve met here in New York are good and genuine friends and that I owe them more than another disappearance to another continent and only occasional contact.
I’ve learned that white wine is the only alcohol that I really miss – and that it’s not the alcohol but the occasion (home from work, Jeopardy, veggie chips and a selfish half hour with my wife).
I’ve learned that people only talk of ‘hope’ when it’s gone.
I’ve learned that my head isn’t quite as weirdly shaped as I’d been led to believe.
I’ve learned to let go and trust… to give some control to other people, to offer some things up to the universe and to turn off the e-mail when I get home.
But I’ve not learned to stop blathering.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Land of the living
Judith's friend Varya headed over yesterday and we managed to go out for dinner and drinks (I wasn't drinking)
It's the first time that I've been out and about at night in an age and it felt good to be back amongst the living... though the number of people flooding into Billyburg at midnight was shocking to these old eyes.
It's the first time that I've been out and about at night in an age and it felt good to be back amongst the living... though the number of people flooding into Billyburg at midnight was shocking to these old eyes.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
If ad men were doctors
I was just wondering what the world would look like if the world of healthcare was run like the world of advertising. Some things wouldn’t change – doctors would still have a distain for their patients built on an attitude of superiority. An attitude born of specialization.
Patients would still be the ‘stupid’ people who should unquestioningly take advice and promptly pay their bills.
But other things would change. Medical school would go out of the window. Hey, who needs all of that understanding how the body works shit when you might have magic in your fingertips?
If you were to apply the rules of an agency to healthcare you’d end up with a service populated almost exclusively by witch doctors. Guys who have never looked at liver cancer before but are certain they can cure it based in the success they had shaking a stick at strep throat.
That’s not to say that there aren’t people who know what they’re doing in an agency – but they’re dangerously outnumbered. And that’s a scary thought.
Patients would still be the ‘stupid’ people who should unquestioningly take advice and promptly pay their bills.
But other things would change. Medical school would go out of the window. Hey, who needs all of that understanding how the body works shit when you might have magic in your fingertips?
If you were to apply the rules of an agency to healthcare you’d end up with a service populated almost exclusively by witch doctors. Guys who have never looked at liver cancer before but are certain they can cure it based in the success they had shaking a stick at strep throat.
That’s not to say that there aren’t people who know what they’re doing in an agency – but they’re dangerously outnumbered. And that’s a scary thought.
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