A Romantic Rationalist

I’ve written elsewhere of one annoying downside to being a military veteran is when people, knowing nothing else about me other than I’m a veteran—and the obvious demographic data points like probable age, ethnicity, birth sex/gender, etc.—then go on to make totally unwarranted assumptions about my political, religious, or ideological leanings. This genesis of this particular essay was in a conversation with a client at my desk several years ago. Out the blue, my interlocutor told me in utter earnestness how much he “hates it when liberals call conservatives [presumably upstanding, white, male, veterans like himself] Nazis, because everyone knows Nazis were the real socialists.” Overall find my job rewarding and worthwhile, but I’ve also had a great deal of practice keeping a straight face when confronted by such daft assertions. To see how pervasive this particular misconception is, one merely need look at this web page . Debunking baloney takes far longer than spewing it, and

November 20 — December 4, 2019 Where my cancer is will taken into account in the treatment of my cancer, as it will affect the way the radiation therapy is delivered. For those with brain tumors, cognitive impairment, sometimes very severe, can be a lasting side-effect. Most, quite reasonably, would be happy to shave a few points off their IQ if doing so meant not dying from cancer. But hey, guess what? To a significant extent, this is very much all about me! To those who’ve read some of my other blog posts, first I must apologize for my writing—but the souls who have risked loosing their latest meal will already know parts of my tale. For those who do not, here’s the short version: my childhood medical records document my diagnosis as “hyperactive” in 1970, and after some trial and error I was put on Ritalin, but was off it by the end of elementary school. Then, 12 years ago, at the age of 42, I was diagnosed with adult ADHD. I was not surprised, but at the time

October 29 — November 1 9 , 2019 While chemotherapy is not Plan A, on 29 October I met with my chemo oncologist for the first time. He was able to pull up my 25 October PET scan. “PET” is short for positron emission tomography. The process leverages the “fuel” needs of metabolically active sites in the body. Part of the MO of cancers i is to create new blood vessels to supply their ravenous appetites, so when radioactively-tagged “fuel” — in my case, glucose—is intravenously administered, it quickly concentrate s in the most metabolically sites in the body, such as the heart, brain...and my cancer. Of course, the carcinoma on my left tonsil was glaringly obvious, glowing a bright yellow-white. My heart and brain were also quite active, as was the tissue of my gums as they were healing following the trauma of having most of my teeth pulled. The doctor pointed out the nearby lymph nodes that may or may not be showing activity related to my cancer — which I noticed were about

October 16-October 28, 2019 Once I knew the type of cancer I have, I immediately googled “squamous cell carcinoma” (SCCs). The way I approach online research of serious, academic subjects is to review the initial search results to look for possible keywords. Wikipedia is a good place to find further keywords and search terms. From there I turn to the academic research databases EBSCO and Proquest (normally available to anyone with online access to their local public library card). Many of the webpages I initially reviewed referred to SCC as a type of skin cancer. On a hunch, when I added “oral” to my search terms, I noticed “HPV” was frequently mentioned as well. This struck me as possibly significant; in 1987 I was treated for genital warts, so I may have bits of HPV i DNA in my blood and/or plasma, just as having chickenpox as a kid means I have the virus causing shingles quietly sequestered somewhere in my body—at least for now. What I found in the online Merck Ma

The Big “C” On 15 October I learned I have cancer. More specifically, a squamous cell carcinom a currently sitting on my left tonsil and I’ve no doubt my 40+ years of using smokeless tobacco contributed to this development. For many people, learning they or a loved one have “cancer” is a devastating blow. Given the line of work I’m in, I’ve come to appreciate the concept of resiliency in the face of personal crises and try to aid clients as they seek a way through their individual struggles. Now, I have (yet another) opportunity to put into practice what I preach. I’ve always been a half-full glass sort of person. If told I’m incapable of doing or learning something, I frequently take it as a personal challenge to prove the naysayers wrong. My ninth-grade algebra teacher, after barely passing his class, advised me not to take geometry in high school because, in his estimation, I would almost certainly fail. Admittedly, I was not particularly optimist