About My Subtitles

On the stereo: Brave by Sara Bareilles
In my bloodstream: The remnants of Ipilimumab (Yervoy) an immunotherapy drug for cancer and an experimental drug from Bristol Myers called Nivolumab.

Growing up, my family in Canada was small.  No grandparents, no cousins, no uncles or aunts.  My parents filled the void with music - music filled almost every non-working moment.  My mom could sing. She had sung in a Glasgow band during the war, and until she died, she never missed an opportunity to share a song.  Dad was a masterful musician, although it was not until I was in my early teens that he could finally afford his first used piano, his first since he left Scotland.  He did buy an accordion in 1952, and he made do with that while he saved for the day when he could finally afford the piano he had long dreamed of owning.  Together, my Mom and Dad gave me the gift of music.  My house was always my private concert hall.  I was introduced to every music genre from classical to country - and I still love them all.  What a great gift.  I will always remember the warmth and the peace and the melodies of our home in those very early days.

My Dad’s accordion.  And no, I could not play it.

My love of music has led me to continuously create a soundtrack for my life.  My “On the stereo” subtitle will be used to share the song(s) playing in my mind when I recall these stories and meaningful moments.  They are quite random, but are all part of my collection.  If you don't know the music, you might want to try a listen.  I'm sure they will not all be to your taste, but you just might find a gem or two.  The lyrics alone are often worth the trip.

As for the “In my bloodstream” subtitle, well, that’s the medical side.  I am a man who has spent the last 25 plus years battling stage 4 melanoma.  Drugs, radiation and surgeries have kept me living.  My family and friends have given me a life.  I will share which medical treatments I was involved with in this section.  I hope it will help to give you a framework for the story being told.

I have included some pictures to give some context to approximate timelines and of some friends who helped us get over the hurdles and helped me to continue to appreciate all that life has to offer.   Kathy has also supplied some pics of operations, wounds and bandages.  Many are quite graphic, and I caution viewing them if you are at all squeamish.  You have been warned.  As well, there is some questionable language throughout, but it is what I thought or said at the time.  I am trying to relay the honesty of thought at each stage of my still-continuing saga.

Let me share a more recent time.  It was late July, 2017, and I had been housebound for over a month.  On June 27th I was at Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa Florida, being operated on by Dr. Michael Harrington, and a wonderful team who were excising a number of cancer sites (squamous and basal cell) that required their surgical expertise.   Large areas on my back, chest and left arm needed to be gone.  The plan was to cut them out, leave the wounds open for 2 weeks, get a pathology and then go back to finish the surgeries and close the damaged sites.   The operations were successfully completed under local anesthetic, leaving me to go home and heal over the month.

Shower time.

In any event, this is to let you know how clever I am.   All this happened in July in Florida. If you need to be stuck inside there is no better time than summer in the south.  It is always mid 90’s and humid - or raining.  I was forced to watch the Tour de France, Wimbledon and The British Open.  Poor me!  Hah!

Who could have picked a better time?  Between open wounds and skin grafts I was naked, cool and entertained by our television for a month.  The wounds were gaping and I was not able to let even a blanket touch me for fear of blood stains, the possibility of infection and more importantly, pain.  The only covering I had was a sheet for some warmth and whatever bit of modesty I had left and saran wrap to cover the wounds when I showered.  The open wounds had to be kept dry until I returned for the operation to remove any residual cancer and sew me back together.


A friend of Kath’s called to see how I was recovering.  Kath advised her of my condition, and in an hour she was at our door with food and, I would like to believe, an interest in my Adonis-like body, as damaged as it was.  OK.  Likely not.  But I’m trying to maintain some self-confidence in a scarred old body that looks like an autopsy was performed prior to my death.  How I haven't lost 20 pounds  is beyond me!

 Delusion is sometimes helpful when followed by the laughter of reality.  Truthfully, I was not at my sexiest best.  Have not been for a long time.

I do, however, still live the best life.

Adieu.