Oh Waffles thou art with me, thy butter and thy syrup, they comfort me

Okay, let's just get right down to it. Have you seen Carrot Top lately? When Carrot Top is roided up like this, it makes me think it's time for me to do something about this weight gain.
TodayI made three waffles, one for the dog, one for me, and one for my new set of hips; I ate right before the old Interferon, which I've started taking earlier in the day (4:20) in order to sleep through side effects. Plus, it's helped with appetite, which, I'm not sure, but may be a good thing. However, we're officially building on to the apartment for my a## now.
Went to the Y today, and tried to work out because I figured I just couldn't take this look any longer. I've got more chins than China. Janet Jackson has nothing on me. (Isn't chemo supposed to make you lose weight?) So, this is the second time I've worked out in the last year, and both times didn't exactly work out too well. The first time was 7 months ago, and I was in bed for 3 days straight afterward. Since then, I just figured the muscle pain and joint pain was too much, so I've just been walking a little, and I mean very little.
So, the Y. I got an email from a fellow chemo-er suggesting I try riding a bike instead of running, because it's lower impact. And I felt better than I have in a long time (maybe it was the 2 Vicodin) but I thought maybe an elliptical runner would be a good idea. Two minutes in, I was having chest pains, and about 30 seconds later the machine shut down, saying "Your heart rate is too high." I switched machines, thinking I could outsmart the little sucker, and again the machines shut me down every 30 seconds after that. I eventually got 15 minutes of running in by moving to a machine without a HR monitor on it. Yeah, probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, by far. Again, we'll blame the Vitamin V on that, as inaccurate as it is. And, get this, I barely made one mile in 15 minutes. A year ago, I could've run a mile in 15 minutes with just one leg. I could've hopscotched a mile in 15 minutes. I could've done it with Carrot Top on my back (old Carrot Top, not roidy Carrot Top).
Oh well, I guess it's just another motivator to get this chemo over with and get back into old habits. I'm looking forward to it. Today the rash is a little worse than usual, and I've got some pretty serious lymphadema. It hurts more than it usually does, but I'm guessing it's just from more swelling than typical. I'm eating ice like a freakin eskimo- my guess is that I'm probably anemic, because ice always tastes so good when my numbers are low. I don't feel bad, though, and I guess the workout was at least worth a try. Soon I'll be back in the old saddle, feeling fit as a fiddle. And hey, double chins aren't THAT bad. It could be worse. :) Right?

Ninja, Please

Well, it's a new week, and the good news is that it seems like the site is getting a little more play, and more play is better for just about anybody, I say. Those of you helping to keep my site numbers up are highly appreciated, and it seems to be paying off. Here's props to my peeps.
Word to your mamas.
On the health front, unpredictable stuff again and that means another chance to piss and moan. I'm trying, now that I only have 2 months left (I know, WTF, right?), to start a new habit of journaling when I'm feeling like this. It's been a rough day today, odd following a pretty good week: a lot of nausea, a little fever, chestpains, shakiness, general malaise. Not so bad I can't get out of bed, so that's good. Not so bad I have to take a pain pill, so that's good, too.
Weird thing is, I was in the car today, letting my thoughts race, and I kept thinking about how, even after a year of this, it still seems so unreal. I still, to this day, sometimes question if I'm really sick. Do I really have cancer? Is it as bad and as serious as they say? Will I have to take chemo? Maybe it's the low numbers, but I've been on chemo for 10 months now. 10 months and sometimes I just wonder if I'm faking it. Am I sick? If it weren't for the chemo, I don't even think I'd feel sick. So unreal. And yet, this is the strangeness of cancer. The strangeness of being young and feeling so bizarre being ill. I guess in some circles it could be called denial. I guess, but it's way too in my face to be that anymore. Seems so weird that after all this time I still can't control so much. Anyway.

Geez, I bet y'all get tired of hearing me whine. Speaking of wine...


So, I got an email a few days ago from a guy named Peter with his own blog called the Interferon experience at interferonexp.blogspot.com. I want to encourage all of you to check it out, support a fellow survivor and blogger, as I think he could use some cheery words these days. Interferon can be quite a nasty old lady, and a few kind sentiments never hurt anybody.
On the upside, Bob Marley sang to me today, I got free pancakes, Bear's back home, and my family is healthy and well, so I can't really ask for too much more. Things could be alot worse, and I'm just gonna keep that in mind. Hope all of you are well, too.

Best,
MM

999- Evil when Doing Handstands

Well, kids, things are looking good. If you haven't checked in on the regular site lately, you really should, because it's new and improved and looking great. There's more to come, of course, but the revamping in the works is a big move on our part to target the 20 t0 30 crowd who may be looking for survivors going down a similar path, and we're glad to be just that.

The new meds seem to be good, too. The steroid appears to be helping the rash a little, even though it makes me eat everything that isn't nailed down. The double dose of Lexapro has definately started to keep the feelings of depression at bay(it's amazing and awesome how well- and how fast- a new dose helps), and the pain killer is really helping with the side effects of the Interferon. Overally, I'm actually really happy I threw the fit that I did at the doctor's office, even though at the time I felt like a total idiot. And, let's face it, I probably was. The good news is- I'll say it again- that I'm lucky to have been connected with great doctors. Dr. Daya was really awesome this week, and made me feel so much better. He's right- two months is not that long in comparison to what I've done already. Plus, it's totally worth it in comparison to having this cancer come back. I'm starting to feel more like myself already, and it's only been a week or so since the change in drugs, but I'm so glad that it helps. Bobby even said today that it's good to hear me laughing again, and it's good to be back. I missed you guys.
It just goes to show that when you feel like something's not right, it pays to follow up on it and insist on something to help. I don't think if I would've just asked for new stuff that I would've gotten anything. I guess the squeaky wheel gets the grease in these cases.
Anyway, enough of that.
Tomorrow I'm going out of town to present a scholarship given in memory of my dad. I'm a little nervous, and not sure what I'm gonna say, but it's such an honor to do and such a great way to remember him. Seems like 10 years ago that he passed away, and yet I guess it wasn't even 2 years yet.
I remember the first time we talked about him having cancer, and I think now how different my attitude is about living with it and how it's not the death sentence so many of us associate with it. I'm lucky that things have changed, that advancements have been made, that this was the year I had melanoma and not 2 years ago, when Interferon wasn't even around. Lucky that there's mice out there giving up recombinant DNA for suckas like me, those crafty little fools in their tiny white lab coats putting together proteins. Isn't technology wonderful? I think so, too.
Just 2 months left, and everything is going to change for me once again. It's been a crazy year, and even though it's not over yet, I'm encouraged that the end is near.
I know I'll walk away from this forever changed, but that doesn't mean it has to be a bad thing. I just know I'm excited about this new chapter in my life and looking forward to the changes.
Can't wait!


-MM

I rant, therefore I am

Okay, truth?
The truth is I went to two separate doctors this week and told them both, "I'm not doing this Interferon anymore." The side effects have gotten worse, and it's starting to cause depression, and I just thought to myself, It's not even worth this. I've got two months left, and they'll let me off of this so I can go back to work and have a normal life again.
With Dr. Daya, the results were significantly better than with my new oncologist at Parkland, but let's face it- neither let me off the hook. I did get better meds, though, so I guess I can't complain.
I knew going into this situation that I'd probably get the whole, This-is-a-serious-disease speech, which I did (twice). And, you know, nobody wants to hear that, even when it's the truth. Nobody wants to hear that if or when this cancer comes back, that it will have attacked the organs in a matter of 3 months and life will essentially be over. You hear that, and you just think, What are you talking about? I'm 30. There's no way I'll be dead in 5 years. I mean, my parrot won't even be dead in 5 years, and he lives on crackers and water.
And then the whole thing starts all over again, with me thinking how this isn't worth it if I'm only going to be alive 5 more years, how the last 10 years have just flown by, and how stupid this stupid disease is. It's not like liver cancer, where you get it just because it's in your genetics somewhere and there's not really anything you can do about it. This disease is, many times, preventable, and more people get diagnosed with it than any other cancer in America. How much sense does that make? Then I just get mad, just get overwhelmed thinking about the fact that in the 1930s, the chance for a person living in the U.S. to develop melanoma was 1 in 1,500 and now it's 1 in 74. How does this happen? I bet Al Gore could tell me. Still, it seems to make no sense.
What I wish for is one of those American Beauty moments, when the beauty of the world just fills me up and blah blah blah blah blah, but the reality is, I haven't had one of those moments in a while. What I've been thinking lately is about the 60% chance that within the next few years, I'll be going through all this shit all over again, and it makes me sick to think of it. I'm down, chemo sucks, and even though I'm taking measures to make all of this better, it's still so overwhelming sometimes. I'm sure you can imagine. And even though it sucks, (have I mentioned how bad this sucks?), I know that things could be so much worse, and I guess I'm just happy for this moment right now.
I'm taking the chemo again like a champ, I'm dealing with what I can, and I'm doing my best to just believe I'm the exception to the statistic. And if all of that works out, I know I'll be just fine.

-MM

Free chemo in the parking lot

Here's a great little list just for fun I jacked from Planet Cancer.com. I'll check back in soon. -MM ******************************************************************************* Top 10 Ways to Disrupt the Waiting Room

Ask everyone around you to do things "stat". Offer free prostate exams. Ask everyone nervously whether they have a "spare catheter." Pop a tape in the VCR of you in an avocado-eating contest. Supplement bland waiting room periodicals with nurse-fetish pornography. Give your best rendition of that dance-floor classic: The Naked Raptor. Hold up sign that reads, "Free chemo in the parking lot." Initiate a spelling bee. Be unflinchingly cruel with errors. Leaf through every magazine in the room, shake hands with everyone else and then say loudly, "Jesus, this flesh-eating scabies itches like a mother." Repeatedly refer to the doctor you're waiting to see as "The Trembling Butcher."

Spirits are High, Numbers are Low

Here's my advice to you: don't get cancer. Although, I guess the reality is, the cancer doesn't actually hurt, it's the chemo that sucks. So, really, I'm recommending that you don't inject interferon into your body. That being said, if your doctor says take it, s/he does have a little more medical expertise than me, so you may want to listen to them. But whatever. You make the call.
I'd first like to say that I know you may not want to hear all this, because, you know, it's gross and kinda depressing, but if this is what's necessary to get you to wear sunscreen, then by God, I'm bearing my soul. Wear sunscreen dammit!
The chemo's been a little rough the last couple of days, and I guess my numbers are low, because my gums have been bleeding for the last 24 hours (which doesn't hurt, but also doesn't do much for my breath, as you can imagine), and I have an eye infection in both eyes, thrush in my mouth, and what appears to be impetigo in my nose. The body aches aren't much fun, either, and the muscles in my legs cramp when I stand, which explains why the Boob had to kinda pull me out of bed this morning. Food somehow helps, and I'm not sure how that works, but it does, so I've been trying to eat regularly and healthy stuff. Ugghh. Anyway, those chief complaints along with the joint pain in my shoulders, neck, hands, elbows, hips, knees and ankles has been pretty bad- so bad that I'm taking Vicodin to relieve the pain. But the Vicodin does help, and, what can I say, life is pretty good when I'm on it. Who loves it?
It sucks. Have I mentioned that? Yeah, I guess I did. And, as usual, I wonder if I should tell y'all this stuff. But I feel like poopie on a stick, and, as Bobby says, "everything's not always rosie. People need to know that." Maybe he's right. Maybe this will motivate people to be more aware of cancer risks. Maybe Armageddon has subliminal pictures of naked women sliced into the film. Maybe Condeleeza Rice is really a man. We just don't know, people. All I know is what's going on right here and now with me, and I'm taking another Vicodin.

We put the RAD in ERADICATE

If you love literature, John Donne, academia, scholars, or just people who like to talk to themselves, "Wit" is a movie I'd like to recommend to you. In it, Emma Thompson, a long-time English professor, finds that she has metastatic ovarian cancer, and is convinced by her doctor to partake in an 8 month chemo regimen, in which, she is told, she will have to be "very tough." Later, she finds out she is the only patient to ever survive the full 8 months at the maximum dose, and that she is indeed very tough. Her resilience was inspiring, to say the least, and I loved the hard-headed nature of the character, who threw in a lot of comedy about medical staff that was also concise and accurate. Eventually, the chemo is essentially and sadly her demise, but (of course) there is that moment in between when she begins to realize what the lesson in all of this was, and it's one we could all take note of. Not a movie you'll necessary cry all the way through, but not a happy ending, either, Wit is the best portrayal of a 45 day stay in the hospital that I've ever seen ("How can the moments last so long and at the same time slip so quickly by?"), and it struck me several times that the writer must've gone through chemo at some point, because you can only write a chemo fever like that if you've experienced it yourself. I also loved the message of what a huge difference a good nurse makes in the midst of treatment. Anyway, this movie comes highly recommended from not only me, but Planet Cancer.com, and offers a truthful, satisfying ending you probably won't see in the Queen Latifah edition of this film. Just remember, it's not for the faint of heart or the hopeless cheesy romantic, and that the "storybook" ending isn't alltogether a happy one, but the realization of the importance of the simple pleasures in life is. Hope you enjoy!

-Miss M

Miss Melanoma Loves El Jefe

If I may be so cheesy, I'd like to open the blog today with a quote I read.

"I'm learning little by little that we are the one who decide what our lives will be. Things happen to us. We cannont stop that. But our reaction to these things is the thing that really matters. " -unknown

On that note, ok, I admit it, I suck. It's been like 2 weeks with no blog, and I've been slacking on the pick-up. All I can say is, the chemo has been pretty wild getting used to again- that rash I had in the beginning came back in full force, and the only thing that really helped was Benadryl. So, after taking about 6 a day for a week, I"m finally pretty okay again, and by pretty okay, I mean than my speech isn't too slurred, I can keep my eyes open, and I have stopped drooling on myself.

Anyway, enough of that. All else on the cancer front is good. And, in case you all don't know, May is Melanoma Awareness month. Yeah! Now you're aware. And in your awareness, I encourage you to pass on this site information to anyone you think could use it (or even if you think they can't) and be sure and keep that epidermis covered out there.

On this front, I'm working on some activism, and getting as much publicity out there about melanoma as I can. Only 3 months of chemo left (as of today) and since after that I'll be going back to work, I want to use this time very wisely. I'm hoping that means some difference in the way people view skin cancer (at the very least) and cancer patients just in general. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to send them to me. Sarcasm and synicism also welcome.

On the same note, if you know me, or even if you don't, I'd like to inform you about an upcoming social event in honor of diminishing cancer forever. It's the "No More F%#@ing Chemo Party" we'll be holding in August in Dallas, and it should be a good time for all. My favorite drinks will be served, along with some fine entertainment and a beer pong table.
I think that's it for now, folks. The plan is to tape my chemo injection tonight, but the camcorder has been on the fritz, so we'll see how it goes. Otherwise, don't forget to mark your calendars, and keep your eye on the prize.
See ya soon.

-MM

Straitjacket sold separately.

Well, kids, I set myself a weekly reminder to do a blog, and so here I am doing it. This week being on chemo after having 2 weeks off was rougher than I thought it'd be. The nausea isn't bad, but some of the other side effects I'd had in the beginning have come back, so I've been on a lot more drugs than I was before. That may not really seem significant, but it means I'm only awake a few hours a day. I know I've missed some calls from some of you, but I'm pretty out of it, and would just rather call you back when I know what's going on. This is really all I can write for now, but I'll be in touch soon.

-L

“Friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families.”

Aahh, vacation. Aahh, San Diego.
The sun, the ocean, the laid-back atmosphere, the lack of mosquitos, the cheap access to alcohol. Tell me, who could ask for more? Only crackheads, I'll tell you that... and I've got living proof. Took my Boobie to SD, we got to do all the touristy things, gamble a bit, went to TJ (or Tijuana, to the untrained border hopper), L.A., and just had an awesome time in general. I didn't have to do chemo, and feeling good and being able to get up before 4 p.m. was a real eye opener for me. A part of me still can't believe how chemo effects me (because in my mind, I'm Supergirl, I guess), but it was so great just to feel normal again, and a real inspiration to finish these last 3 months of chemo. I definately didn't miss the rash, the fevers, headaches, or the IBS, but it was a good reminder as to what life will be like soon. (Insert Cinderella "Don't know what you got till it's gone" song here.)

High on the list of phenomenal activities was seeing my good friend Mandy. It was good, a real treat, just to be near her again, and it hurt to remember how much I miss her. I guess through all of this, I've cut myself off a bit- (and by "a bit" I mean "totally") just so I can focus on doing what I have to do to get this over with. Being there again, being able to wake up in the morning and walk into another room to see her and just talk like we used to every day- it really reconnected me to so much I had almost forgotten. It made me remember who I was before all of this, and reminded me of who I am today, what I've learned, and who I want to be. And, of course, it made me realize how lucky I've been this whole time, lucky to be given such amazing people in my life, amazing friends all over that care about me and who show me all the time what a gift friendship is.

Another cool part was that we got to spend a few days together, some real qualtiy time, and I feel luckier than ever to be so blessed by this friendship. This last year has been a testament to how easy it is to lose touch when you're so caught up with yourself, and so much going on with both of us, it's crazy how quickly time passes. She's planning a HUGE wedding, and to finally know what I can do to help was a relief in and of itself. I feel like we finally kinda got caught up, which is important to me, and we had fun doing it. I miss her so bad sometimes it's pitifull, but I don't think it'll be this way forever. Visiting her was by far the best part of the trip, as seeing her always is.



Okay, enough of that. I'm gettin' misty. My little girl is growing up so fast.

San Diego, San Diego. Too expensive to live there, but my what a happy place. The weather was better than we could've even requested, 65 everyday and sunny, a room with a view, and the booze was flowing freely. With no nausea, it was amazing to be able to eat veggies again without puking, and having some drinks after dinner felt so freeing. How easily we all forget how lucky we are for the little things! I mean, I'm not saying I didn't definately feel 31 after that 4th day of hangovers, but it was all worth it.

TJ was a blast: Bobby's first experience with Homeland Security. They even invited him to stay, but he regretfully declined. :) I love that place... it's so festive and fun. The Mexicans really know how to party. And, I mean, who can hate a country where tequila flows like a river and they just pour it straight from the bottle into your mouth? Why waste a shot glass? It's ecologically friendly.

L.A. (or Smell-A, as some would say) was, of course, a blast... again, when people walk around in Elvis suits, who can deny the beauty of the city? Did get to see lots of stars homes, and had no idea I had such a natural abilty to stalk stars. Should've been paparazzi, I tell you. Creamed my panties in front of John Travolta's gate, and actually licked the doorknob of the Playboy Mansion just for good measure. Also rubbed some pink parts on Billy Graham's star, which the locals thought was amusing. Overall, Bobby and I looked like crazy Texas tourists, but had such a good time it didn't even matter. I could've been a contender.

Good times. Definately the best vacation I've ever been on, and I think it was because we had so much time just to relax, take our time, and do exactly whatever we wanted to do. We got to see it all: the Gaslamp, Ocean Beach, NUNU's, Mission Beach, Hillcrest, Pacific Beach- if they served liquor, we were there. And I even got to catch up with some good friends and revisit them. Bug came in, and it was so good to see her (see the whole "blessed to have such awesome people in my life" thing above) I had some drinks with little Anthony and my dear Martin, and couldn't have been happier about all that.
It was a great trip, too, because I got a grip on how healthy I used to be, and what bad habits I've fallen into while on chemo. Being home these last couple of days has made me focus on what I know I need to work on, and it's been twice as easy falling back into healthy habits after seperating myself from it all for a couple of weeks. Overall, kids, I highly recommend America's finest city, and hope that all of you enjoy your friends as much as I do.

That's it for now, but I'll check in soon. Take cara yous.

-L

I MUST be Butter, cause I'm on a ROLL!!!

When you have melanoma, or any other cancer for that matter, people take insults from you much more easily and without nearly as much fuss, especially if there's a chance of you dieing. So! Let me start this post by saying that I know none of you slackers have written to your congress-people about the budget cuts that GDub has proposed, and I am personally incredibly offended by all of your lazy butts. However, because I can relate to not only your apathy and disgrace, but your sense of taste in the immediately gratifying, I am pasting a letter RIGHT HERE on the Miss Melanoma blog for you to send it. How easy is that? Of course, I ripped all of this off from Lance Armstrong's site, due to the fact that I am as lazy and apathetic as all of you. Here goes.

Tell Congress - Don't Slow Down the Fight!

But seriously...
On February 6, President Bush proposed to Congress his federal budget for Fiscal Year (FY) 2007. The President's budget fails to meet even the basic public health needs for cancer patients and survivors. This is unacceptable. The 1.4 million people who hear the words, "You have cancer" this year need to know that our elected officials are making cancer a national priority. Congress needs to hear loudly from cancer survivors and others that our nation can't step back from the fight against cancer. Let them hear you today.

Click here to find your representative's email address.-----> United States House of Representatives

Please use this as your subject line in your email: -----------> DON'T IGNORE THE FIGHT AGAINST CANCER


Then copy and insert this letter, written by HOTTIE Lance Armstrong himself. (I'd like to see that StrongArm, if you know what I mean). (That's me on the right, trying to get my tongue in his ear.)

Anyway, here's the letter:

------->When the Budget Resolution is considered in the House and Senate, please oppose the President's proposed cuts and vote in support of efforts to increase funding for cancer research and programs, such as the Specter-Harkin amendment to restore funding for all health and education programs to the levels they were at two years ago. As you and your colleagues are considering the FY 2007 budget, I urge you to only support a budget resolution that increases funding for cancer research and programs. Unfortunately, the President's FY 2007 budget fails to meet even the basic public health needs for cancer patients and survivors. On the heels of approving the first cut to National Institutes of Health (NIH) and National Cancer Institute (NCI) funding since 1970 in FY 2006, the President has proposed even deeper cuts in FY 2007. As a result, the total number of NIH-funded research project grants would drop by 642, or 2 percent, below last year’s level. Funding for the NCI would be cut by $40 million. In addition to these cuts in medical research, the President's budget also proposes deep reductions at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) for chronic disease prevention, quality of life programs, and health promotion. Specifically, the proposal cuts nearly $20 million from chronic disease programs, which include cancer control, prevention, and survivorship. In fact, under the President's proposal, the CDC Cancer programs, which are already severely under-funded, would be cut by more than $3 million. As you well know, the Congressional Budget Resolution sets the spending caps for the year by "Functions." For health care, including medical research and public health programs, the critical Function is "550." If you support cancer research and public health programs and are serious about the commitment to end suffering and death from cancer, you should only support a Congressional Budget Resolution that increases Function 550 funding over last year's level. When the Budget Resolution is considered in the House and Senate, please oppose the President's proposed cuts and vote in support of efforts to increase funding for cancer research and programs, such as the Specter-Harkin amendment to restore funding for all health and education programs to the levels they were at two years ago. I will be following the budget process closely. Please let me know what actions you plan to take to support increasing funding for cancer research and programs.

Sincerely,

(insert your little ol name here)

That's love, right there folks... doin all that work for you. So get off your buttskies and help all those cancer patients out there. Doing something you don't want to do builds character.

-L

Ask me about my meth lab

Here's a question for you: what do mathematics and constipation have in common? You can work them both out with a pencil. Okay, it's not really funny, but how many jokes about poop are? Exactly. So it's Friday night and I was too whipped to do anything fun tonight. The third chemo treatment in the week always wipes me out, and I spent most of the day laying down. Melanoma could be one of those resorts that force you to spend 19 hours a day in bed. I should start a nail salon specifically for cancer patients who border on comatose like me for days like these. At least that way my toes (all 9 of them) would look good while I drool on myself.
Oh well, might as well make the best of it. When else in my life will I be able to say I was sedated for a full year? It's funny, I wonder what people on chemo did before the internet. I'd be going stir-crazy without it. There's a certain joy in internet porn.
So the PET Scan came back all clear, and I haven't heard from the CAT scan doctor so I'm assuming all is good there. Nothing like good news and knowing I don't have to get another scan for 3 more months. Ah, the life of a cancer patient. No news is good news, though, and if constipation is my biggest worry, I'll take it. I guess the worst part of the treatment now is all the drugs I'm pumping into my body. It's true, though, that Oncologists do give out the best candy. :)
Checked out PlanetCancer.com today; it's a great little site for young adults diagnosed with cancer. Lots of smartass comments about the old C word and plenty of sarcasm to go around. I enjoyed it thoroughly.
Lots of good stuff is coming up: I'm trying to get some of my art up on the ol homepage. Hoping I"ll be feeling good enough to go to Gilda's on Tuesday, and I'm planning a trip to San Diego next month, so if you need souvenirs, now's the time to put in your request. I'm personally looking forward to getting my own bobble-head chiuahua. You know you're jealous.
On a final and oddly serious note, I'd like to encourage everyone to visit the Lance Armstrong Foundation page or check with your local representative: cancer research funding may be cut for the first time in a decade, cut back to levels that will slow any additional progress so essential to cancer cures and cancer survivorship. I know this is a little Erin Brockavich-ish, but drastic budget cuts to cancer research are happening, and will continue to happen, if no one speaks up. You have to realize that cancerous diseases like melanoma have increased more than 100 percent in the last few decades, and we need to speak up to government to emphasize the priorities of our health. If this is an important issue to you, please contact your congressional representative at the United States House of Representatives, and urge them to stop any additional budget cuts for cancer research. This year 1.3 million Americans will be diagnosed with cancer.
Okay, so I'm off my soapbox. Now surf on over to your house of reps page and then you can get back to your Mystery Science Theater reruns.

-L