The votes are and we have a winner! Or at least a song subject that has the most votes. Whether the song I write on that subject is a winner remains to be seen. I am diving into it under the influence some very tasty narcotic pain meds so anything could happen. And probably will.

The winner is…

“I Can’t Believe I Watched That”

Inflicted by Norris Shepherd

A close second was “Thesaurus Blues”

Suggested, articulated, entreated, proposed, intimated, advanced, advised, advocated, broached, offered, recommended and suggested by Steven Van Hook.

Sorry to say that “The Joy of Aprons” trailed with a single vote.

Stay tuned!

Your suggestions are in. And what a motley crew they are, indeed.

Last week I asked you all to submit topics for my next song, and whatever the winning entry is, I will write a new song on that topic and perform it live on on ustream.tv, audio stream and in Second Life.

The Council of Lunatics perused the 50 topics suggested and culled it down to a votable 25 while I paced nervously in the hall, occasionally being chased out when I tried to peek over shoulders or make suggestions.

Here is the final list. You may vote for up to THREE subjects. Get your friends in to vote for your favorites. Game it. What can I do to stop you?

The voting will close Saturday, May 12 as soon as I am far enough out of my post-op anesthetic stupor to work a mouse. In case of a tie, there will be a run off vote.

For those of you just dropping in, check out my past music.

Vote wisely. This may be your only chance to be the source of a songwriter’s psychic and creative anguish. And wouldn’t that be a proud moment?

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A Song for Eva

I’ve been looking for a creative challenge to get things rolling again after my recent hiatus and I got this idea… It may turn into a disaster (and that’s likely, knowing some of you), but that’s never stopped me before. So here goes!

I invite you to suggest a topic for my next song. It can be anything. And if you think you can stump me, just check out my past songs. Once, your suggestions are in, we’ll vote and I will write a song on the winning topic, whatever it is, and perform it live on the internet. Here’s how it works.

1. Songs topics must be submitted as comments to this post, one topic per comment. It must be something you can express in one to six words. You can enter more than once, but play nice.
2. Trolls will be dealt with firmly and swiftly.
3. Submissions will close at 5 pm, Friday, May 4 or when there are around 100, whichever comes first.
4. The Council of Lunatics will select 25 topics from your suggestions (and I assure you, they have NO interest in making it easy). Voting will be open for one week.
5. The winner gets a song credit plus the knowledge that your evil idea has made my life a living hell. The comment form includes a line for your email address. It’s not made public nor is it required, but it makes it easier to let you know if you’ve won. You could also subscribe.
6. I will announce a date and time for a live simulcast performance on ustream.tv, audio stream and in Second Life.

Just to make things more interesting, right about the time voting closes I will be having major surgery (hopefully the last in the recent series!) so the song may be heavily influenced by narcotic painkillers. So be it. I asked for a challenge! If the first time goes well I may make it a regular thing, but this could be your only chance to make me a puppet to your will. Invite your friends. If you are new here, please visit my site and listen to a bit of my music so you have some idea how hard it will be to stump me.

I reserve the right to write songs on any topics you suggest in addition to the winning entry. If I do, I’ll give you a nod in the credits. I don’t add email addresses to my mailing list unless you specifically ask.

If time is the teacher of what’s essential and what you can do without, then the prospect of cancer is the crash course. Even though I feel as if I’ve begun to learn these lessons, I can still be surprised at how puny my understanding is.

Last week I cut my hair. This was, in my mind at the time, a major event. My hair was long. Pathologically long. I felt it was part of my identity, my “branding” – something I was known for. I resisted any thought of cutting it out of fear that I would not be “special” anymore without it. But last Wednesday in the shower, I realized that if my hair was what made me special it was a pretty sorry state of affairs and perhaps I should focus on something else. Like, say, music or writing or, hell, even weeding the garden would be more useful and no more time consuming.

But long hair still feels like a source of power, femininity, youth, beauty and sexual desirability. It’s one of the special cruelties of cancer that the cure robs so many women not only of their breasts and estrogen but their hair as well. It’s the final insult in a series of injuries. I’m lucky in that I did not have to face all of those losses – only my breasts, ovaries and uterus. Keeping my hair made it, somehow, more bearable. But oddly, rather than clinging to my hair, the fact of my losses and witnessing the much greater losses of my friends and my mother, made it recede in importance. It seemed silly – like preserving a spoon when your house has been swept away.

I made an appointment for the same day and by that afternoon, I had a long hank of hair to donate to Locks of Love to make wigs for little girls who have lost their own hair to cancer treatments.

But the real lesson came gradually during this week since the haircut. Hardly anyone has noticed. Admittedly, I still have plenty of hair. If I’d shaved my head, I imagine people would have commented. It felt like such a huge change to me, but unless I specifically point it out, it’s gone without so much as a blink from almost everyone I know. Most likely, they, like nearly everyone, are so focused on their own internal lives that they don’t see what’s around them (a lesson there in itself) or, as I prefer to think, I’m just me to them, regardless of what I look like. That’s a happy thought.

I created this parody of Dr. Suess’ Green Eggs & Ham to help educate people about the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genetic mutations and the associated high risk of breast and ovarian cancer – and also find a little laughter in the seriousness of dealing with the gene and it’s effects.

For more info see: http://facingourrisk.org

This work, including background music was written and performed by me and is not associated with FORCE in any official capacity. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of satire – using a beloved, lighthearted childhood book to deliver, through the contrast of humor, a serious, non-commercial commentary about a devastating genetic condition. I encourage everyone to hop right over to Amazon and buy the original book.

Note to lawyers: If I’m mistaken about the fair use thing, please explain it to me before pulling out the big guns. I’m trying to do a little good here. Hopefully, Dr. Seuss is smiling down on this.

This BRCA Gene

(with apologies to Dr. Seuss)

Do you like
this BRCA gene?

I do not like it,
It’s obscene.
I do not like
this BRCA gene.

Would you like it
Here or there?

I would not like it
here or there.
I would not like it
anywhere.
I do not like
this BRCA gene.
I would rather
intervene.

Would you like it in your chest?
Would you like it in your breast?

I do not like it in my chest.
I do not like it in my breast.
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere.
I do not like this BRCA gene
I would rather intervene.

Would you like a bad disease?
Maybe in your ovaries?

Not in my chest. Not in my breast.
Not a disease in my ovaries.
I do not want it here or there.
I do not want it anywhere.
I do not like this BRCA gene.
I would rather intervene.

Would you? Could you? In your tubes?
Have it! Have it! Who needs boobs!

You may like it. Why the fuss?
Why not in your pancreas?

I do not like it in my chest.
I do not like it in my breast.
I do not want a bad disease.
I want to keep my ovaries.
I do not want it in my tubes.
I do not want it in my boobs.
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere.
I do not like this BRCA gene.
I would rather intervene.

Say!
In the dark?
Stay in the dark!
Would you, could you, stay in the dark?

I would not, could not, stay in the dark.

Would you, from testing just refrain?

I would not, could not, just refrain.
Not in the dark. Please, let me explain.
Not in my skin and not in my gut.
I do not like it, I tell you what.
Not in my tubes or my DNA code.
Not in my boobs or one single lymph node.
I do not want it here or there.
I do not want it ANYWHERE!

You do not like this BRCA gene?

I do not like what I have seen.

You do not like it.
SO you say.
But you can act without delay
And you may live another day.
You may live for years, I say.

Say!
I still don’t like this BRCA gene
But you have a point I’ve seen
I still don’t want it in my breast
I still don’t want it in my chest
I still do miss my ovaries
But I don’t miss this bad disease.
So I will have an MRI
Even with contrasting dye
I will face mastectomy
And also hysterectomy
If this is how I must beat cancer
Then knowledge is the only answer
I may not like this BRCA gene
But I have the chance to intervene.

How many things do you tell a child in the process of raising him? Let’s say you give one piece of advice a day from birth until they leave for college. This is an approximation, I know. Some days I gave, or tried to give hundreds. But there wasn’t much for the first year or so and it didn’t fully stop when they left home. And, if you’ve been a parent, you know there’s a good bit of repetition. But let’s say it’s one a day. That is close to 5000.

Out of those 5000 discrete pieces of advice, you really don’t ever know what’s going to take. There’s the big stuff – honesty, compassion, aspiration. There’s the little stuff – flossing, remembering birthdays. What I didn’t realize is that you not only don’t know what’s going to take, you also don’t know what’s big and what’s little.

My sons are 25 and 27 and living on their own. They still seek advice from time to time, but my work is pretty much done at this point. If I missed something, they’re on their own. But they were over for dinner last week and shared a little memory that had a big impact on their happiness as adults. I never would have guessed at the time.

When they were growing up they had chores to do, of course. And like all normal human children, they griped. The refrain was “I don’t wanna!” My stock response was a cheery, “That’s OK, honey. You don’t have to wanna. You just have to do it.” They hated this, but eventually they learned not to gripe in range of my hearing. Which was my goal.

Now, however, in their 20s and on their own, they made a point of thanking me for that refrain. Their friends struggle with doing things they don’t want to do. Not because they don’t think they should have to do those things, but because they were constantly exhorted to have a good attitude about doing them – which left them with the feeling that they shouldn’t or couldn’t do those things unless they mustered up a bit of cheeriness about the process. Or they were bribed to do them – whether through allowance or stickers or treats – which left them with the feeling that they deserved rewards for doing things that are really not special in any way.

Not having to want to, is remarkably freeing, they told me. It’s apparently given them the fortitude to get through the drudgery with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of acceptance.

I didn’t know this at the time. All I wanted was quiet.

-=-=-

Please share a little lesson from your life that had a big effect.

A week ago today, right at this moment, my mastectomy was just getting underway. The final days leading up to it were filled with tears and fears. I really had no idea how or who I was going to be on the other side. But I remember waking up in my room afterwards, foggy but knowing it was over and completely irrevocable. But instead of grief I had a remarkable feeling of resolution – a mental brushing of hands and a big exhale. What is gone is gone but I’m still here. There have been challenges this past week, but I can’t seem to focus my mind on them. There has been pain, but as soon as it’s gone, it’s like it never was. I am thankful for continuous pain amnesia. What I don’t feel is regret. Two days after the mastectomy, the pathology report came back clean. I beat it in time. I am very lucky. I know many who have not been so lucky and it tempers my joy.

Friends who have been down this path told me I’d feel relief on the other side and I couldn’t imagine how it would be possible. Now it’s my task to try to convince friends who still have this ahead of them what I could not be convinced of. But a picture is worth a thousand words. So I dedicate this one to all of you who have yet to see this side – the side free of the dread of cancer. You’ll do fine. There will be joy. And ice cream.