Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15GGl7vvGVg (John Cale live version)

If Lou Reed or John Cale were on chemo, they could sing they were tired, they were weary, they could sleep for a thousand years. Lou is gone now and never will have to, and I do hope John never has to.

Just back from chemo session #2. It went well, with no adverse effects. I’m feeling quite normal at the moment.

Yesterday, we had the Oncology clinic session. They told me I don’t have the K-RAS mutation so that means I can have the monoclonal antibody drug treatment (Cetuximab) I previously mentioned. This is a colourless liquid that is also administered as a drip into a vein (intravenous infusion). It will just be added to the four or five other bags of fluid that they drip into me over a few hours. Only difference is that it’s a weekly treatment and the FOLFIRI is bi-weekly.

Thinking about Lou Reed, I’ve always been very fond of the song “Kill Your Sons” from the ill-regarded Sally Can’t Dance album. I thought it’s a good song, but typical Lou Reed histrionics. Then you read in the guy’s obituary that his parents institutionalized him as a young man to ‘cure’ his homosexuality. Life is stranger and stronger than any fiction.

Right now I’m looking forward to a gig in London this Friday – William Fitzsimmons at the Garage. Bit of a nice dinner beforehand, it should be a good night out with B. I’ll add it to sitting in The Emirates watching Arsenal stuff Sunderland 4-1 as more evidence that I’m in control here, not Cancer. At least until it carries me off 😦