Well, at long last, I’ve gotten some news. Perhaps I should wait until it’s fully digested before I spit it out.

Nothing is happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear. But the chimerism shows only a little progress in the engraftment. It is basically in the same place as it was (I was) two months ago. I don’t know what to make of it. I’m not losing the graft, but I’m not getting my strokes with this kind of news. I was hoping for extra bases. Instead, I got a walk. I don’t feel bad, but this isn’t going to help me feel good.

I’ve just been on the phone with two friends, one on the East Coast and one on the West Coast. One is 64, the other is 52. They both have cancer. They both have spouse/partners who have cancer. They both want to talk. I want to talk. That was in the morning. In the evening I spoke to the partner of one of the morning pair. Then I spoke with my friend up the street, who also has had a hairy bout with cancer. It was all cancer all day. Yipes!

We don’t have much advice for each other. Just benign stuff, like “If you’re tired, take a nap.” We like to think that we are somehow compelled to give advice; that if we don’t parcel out a piece of wisdom, we are somehow failing to do our bit to buck up the sick. The truth is that we are all scrambling. We all understand that a cancer diagnosis is a life-altering event. From now on, for the rest of our lives, we’ll be waiting for or going for some test or examination or we’ll be waiting for the results. Talk about anxiety! It sells pills.

All I can say is that it is tough and that coming to a place of peace within one’s self helps. I’m one to talk. When I got my test results, I didn’t feel very at peace with myself.

I want to believe that all I went through was not in vain. I want to believe that I have paid my dues. I’ve taken all my meds — never missed a dose. I’ve stayed away from movies and airplanes. I’ve gone the whole nine yards and as a privileged, white middle-class American, I feel entitled. But damn it, I feel ripped off. I am not at peace. The damn glass is half full AND half empty all at the same time. So to calm down, I wrote a song. It goes without saying that it is what you call “DA BLUES” That means you can sing it the way you feel it at any given time so long it is not in happy-go-lucky Disneyesque. We just ain’t whistling while we work no more.

I’ve got dem yin/yang blues
’cause my graft’s in a snooze.
I ain’t better or worse.
I got a wheel spinnin’ curse.
Will I win, will I lose?

Hey baby, I’m gonna call you on the phone.
Let you know you ain’t alone.
Lotsa friends they’s a kvetchin’.
Seems the big “C”s a ketchin
Their flesh, blood and bone.

Talks ’bout chemo ‘n radiation
Fo’ da boomer generation.
Smoke dat med’cal marijuana
Like you soon’ll be a gonner.
Find some peace in meditation.

Cause of dem yin/yang blues….damn dem yin/yang blues,….yeah dem yin/yang blues. (Fade out…….)

Okay put that in 4/4 time, key of E major, pounding beat, throw in some blues riffs and belt it out with feeling. Louder is better. Remember kids, it always helps to improvise!

The phone companies are making a fortune on this epidemic. It’s a nice sunny day. The weather is warm and flowers are in bloom. Turn off your cell phone and head outside.