Three Simple Questions: cancer

Saturday, April 25, 2015

TOURIST OF DEATH

WHO AM I?

My wife and I were tourists on Grand Cayman because we were going to have our first baby and this was a way to celebrate, and probably was our last vacation alone for some time. She wanted me to go on the Sunset Cruise Catamaran sail that evening.

I wanted to go deep sea fishing. I could never afford the “Marlin’ Darlin” which was at that time $US 1,000 per HALF DAY. So, I asked around and a boat Captain who worked locally as a Volunteer Fireman (from New Jersey), and his First Mate (the Limbo dancer from the hotel) gave me their deal: if I brought $US 100 and a case of beer, I could go with he and his friend to fish for Marlin to sell to one of the chefs at a local hotel.

I told my wife I hoped I would be back by a romantic Sunset Cruise with her on a catamaran, but deep-sea fishing was something, well, guys like me dream of doing.

WHY AM I HERE?

On the way out to really deep water, the boat men caught Barracuda and cut them up for bait. That was our first blood of the day. Barracuda are flipping and flailing razor blades when caught. The captain cut their heads off and then stood back because they kept biting. We ran out to sea for several hours before they saw “drift”, a 4’X8’ plywood sheet, over which Dolphin fish (not Porpoises) were jumping. We stopped here so the boat men could catch something for home.

So, here I am watching them catch Dolphin fish with hand-lines when, suddenly, the Dolphin vanish. An 8-foot long, Black Tip shark has seen the drift and the Dolphin, too. The Captain says to me, “Hey tourista! You wanna be a fisherman?”

I say, “You bet!”

The Captain dangles a huge marlin hook with a Barracuda head as bait over the side like my Auntie Ethel, my black Auntie, taught me how to catch Sunfish when I was 5-years old. Then the Captain feels the line as it tightens and the shark takes it in and suddenly, the Captain; a short, stocky man, leaps into the air, gives the rod a gigantic pump, and set the hook. The reel starts screaming, as the shark dives deep. The Captain starts laughing and hands the rod toward me. “Get in the chair!” he said. I climb into the fighting chair and seat-buckle myself in. “From tourista to fisherman! Gonna kill a BIG fish!” he laughs and hands me the rod. He and the limbo dancer unpack sandwiches and iced beers and sit in the shade for lunch.

WHAT DO I WANT?

The shark has run deep is still ripping line from the reel. I try to tighten the drag and the Captain tells me to “Crank!” so I do. I put the rod in the rod holder. I lean back and lift the rod tip as high as I can and try to crank up the few inches of “slack” when I lower it. Over and over this goes: lift, crank in a few inches, lift, crank in a few inches. One hour. The Captain and First Mate nap. The shark is towing the boat.

Two hours I sit in the tropical sun. I realize I am not well protected on my back and the sun which also reflects off the water. I can feel my skin boiling. I remember all the sunburns I had as a kid. I want to ask for help, but don’t want to be a wimp.

The Captain wakes and sees the shark is now actually visible below the boat. The shark and I are at a stand-off.

“Get the flying gaff.” The Captain says to the Limbo dancer. The Captain takes the rod, pumps several times and brings the shark MUCH closer to the surface. I climb out of the chair and out of the way to watch.

The shark surfaces, exhausted. “Hit him!” he shouts to Limbo who swings the pole with the flying gaff and strikes the shark in mid-body. The gaff is a semi-circular blade which temporarily is on a long pole. Limbo grabs the rope tied to the gaff hook, puts his feet on the side-rail and pulls mightily. The shark is being cut in half with the gaff hook and thrashes mightily throwing bloody water everywhere.

The hook pulls through. I watch as the shark drifts down and out of sight. “You killed a big ‘un! 8-foot! Mebbe 500-pounds!” the Captain says. “Here’s a beer!”

Limbo climbs into the chair. They bait-up for Marlin and head back. I sit in the shade. On the way in they catch a middling-size Marlin, 5-foot, to sell at the hotel.

When we get back, I help them carry the Marlin to their 2-door car and tie it on top. They drive off to a hotel to sell the fish. I miss the romantic Sunset Cruise. I am really cooked by the sun and have a touch of heat stroke. My wife is not sympathetic. “We came on vacation for romance.” She says. “Not for me to be a tourist of death.” My neck and back blisters and peels – even a few days later after I get home.

Our son is born a few months after we return home. Sixteen years later my son and I are swimming at our local YMCA and he reaches up to brush what he thinks is a “leaf” off my back. It is an oddly shaped dark patch – it doesn’t come off. It’s melanoma skin cancer.

Somewhere I imagine Death climbing into a fighting chair. He doesn’t need to buckle himself in. Will I run deep? “Hey tourista!” I say to myself.

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Wednesday, October 8, 2014

TERMS OF SERVICE (TOS) FOR CANCER

WHO AM I?

I am a part of two writers groups in which are a number of cancer survivors – myself included. It seems to be the case that we receive cancer without a clear statement of the Terms of Service like what was recently released by Facebook. Cancer may be extremely aggressive and pernicious. Social media is an extremely pernicious software – so pernicious that they are willing to publish just how pernicious they actually are in their Terms of Service, and then take action against any user should they communicate the details of those Terms to others. I recently witnessed this happen in "real time" to a user whose identity I will keep secret.

What do I mean, “pernicious”? Please read the Facebook Term of Service or look at my Facebook page. I posted them - and they were there a few days ago. By using Facebook give Facebook permission to take over your computer, change your computer settings, you accept any financial charges for any actions Facebook takes while using your computer, and you accept the fact that they do not have to tell you what they have done, nor ask your permission before they do so.

When I published this on my Facebook page it is entirely possible that Facebook will delete this post. In addition Facebook may delete my blog.

This means that Facebook acts in your social body in the same way that cancer acts in your physical body - attacking, removing, damaging your systems all without permission or even informing you until you have the lump, mole, or lesion. I know.

WHY AM I HERE?

The fact that all computer and Internet operations have to publish their Terms of Service is a gift from the God’s of Internet and electronic oversight. Without this knowledge, Internet Service Providers (ISPs) could take action without informing us. They may but keep it under our level of knowledge. This is precisely what happened and the reason that Edward Snowdon is so vilified by the CIA, NSA and other “spying” agencies of the U.S. and partners.

Now Facebook is able to do all of those things Snowdon claimed the government was doing - and more - because they have published the Terms of Service to you and because you have continued to use your Facebook account, you have agreed to grant them all of those rights and powers. They simply make those rights and powers available to any spying agency they choose for whatever price they wish. Because Facebook is private enterprise at work, and you are a client who has free choice, it is not like anyone is doing anything against your will. Right?

WHAT DO I WANT?

As a cancer survivor I know that the only reason I have survived having two bouts of cancer is because I got information and realized that I had the disease; and I found a great team of doctors who understood exactly what to do in order to strengthen myself, and deal with the cancer: have surgery, take chemotherapy or radiation and survive.

What I want is to get more information about the Terms of Service that are given to us by Social Media providers. And I want Social Media doctors to make suggestions about what we can do. We are infected. There is nothing we can do to stop the disease because our Social Body, like our physical body, requires a brain to take appropriate action.

And how is our Social Media body feeling now?