Tales from the Lung Void

Sheryl and I attended a presentation this evening titled “ A Gentle Conversation About the End of Life: What Matters Most? ” The panel consisted of four certified Death Doulas. The average age of the audience appeared to be about 70, which led me to conclude that I am far too young for the occasion. I’ve decided I’ve had enough of this cancer BS and I’m just not going to die anymore. In case my brain waves are not strong enough to affect the universe, I have a simple Plan B: bury the cancer and ascend to heaven. I’ll be wearing my “Who can resist these puppies?” hoodie on my last day.

Early retirement turned me into a reluctant cream collector. Thanks to my predicament, I’ve become a modern man metrosexual and a cream connoisseur. The Amivantamab leaflet is blunt: a 75% chance of itchiness and skin rashes. Finding the right cream became the primary objective. I started the misadventure with Udderly Smooth, a recommendation from the support group. It’s affordable and hydrates everything. Does it work for Ami? No. It isn't occlusive enough to stop the "water loss" that occurs during the loading phase. Then there was Urisec 22%, a relic from my experience with Osimertinib and a podiatrist’s favorite for nail issues. Does it handle Ami? No. It remains the gold standard for the painful skin fissures you might get on your fingertips and heels later, but it’s the wrong tool for this rash. Fine. I tried Aveeno Anti-Itch. Does it handle Ami? No. It’s a decent emergency fix for breakthrough itching, but it does nothing to prevent the rash from forming in the fir...

I came across this research: " Marriage and Cancer Risk: A Contemporary Population-Based Study Across Demographic Groups and Cancer Types ." "We found that never-married adults, both women and men, experienced substantially higher cancer incidence across nearly all major cancer sites, racial/ethnic groups, and age groups compared with ever-married individuals [...] Supporting individuals who wish to marry or have children... may have downstream implications for cancer risk." Now I have an answer for everyone asking how I got lung cancer despite never smoking: I married too late. I was 40. My body had four decades to accumulate mutations before I met Sheryl. Frankly, my message to the world about the stigma of lung cancer isn't very exciting. I should focus on this instead: “Kids, get married as soon as possible. It reduces your future cancer risk. Science says. And by the way, don’t smoke. It helps, too.”

Paid the first installment on the new property at Mountain View resort this month. This is the layout. Only the green cabins remain available, and there are only a few. The rest are occupied or reserved. The cabins near the boundary are smaller because of the hedge; they may not accommodate a full-sized adult. I eventually settled on 1-5-19-3, which is further from the entrance and the traffic. This should reduce the noise and pollution in my cabin. For illustration purposes, this is how I’ll be resting comfortably. Sheryl could take the adjacent cabin. I’ve requested deeper isolation from the outdoors because I’ve noticed dogs roaming around and I don’t want to suddenly feel a trickle of warm liquid on my face. Most of the neighbors have a doormat with an inscription. They call them “epitaphs.” I got curious about the wit found globally. With the help of an AI researcher, here are some choice lines: Mel Blanc, American voice actor; the voice of Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig. "That...

Seeing my face in the mirror this morning made me wonder whether I should shave or just let nature take its course. I’ve heard from some women who had chemotherapy that this was the best side effect: getting rid of excess body hair—at least for a while. Today is my first day after the platinum doublet (Carboplatin + Pemetrexed). The side effect I’ve yet to experience is the metallic "platinum" taste. It ranges from "sucking on a penny" to "burnt battery acid," and apparently makes water taste terrible. Maybe I’ll finally pivot to red wine, like the sophisticated. Or almond milk, like the trendsetters.

My vocabulary is growing. Somnolence has a beautiful, soothing sound, as if taken out of a Harry Potter world. It is the clinical term for drowsiness. Since starting morphine, I’ve noticed that closing my eyes—sitting or standing—triggers a drift into fragmented, nonsensical dreams. I asked the AI. It says morphine significantly alters the " hypnagogic " state, blurring the twilight transition between wakefulness and sleep. Morphine induces notorious hypnagogic hallucinations: vivid fragments that occur while I am technically still awake. I should be starting chemotherapy really soon. I am "looking forward" to the effects of chemo brain—what  Annabelle Gurwitch  calls the "unexpected joys" of being a curious bystander to the absurdity.

In October 2025—just six months after being diagnosed with terminal Stage IV lung cancer—I crossed the finish line of the Royal Victoria Marathon. It was my 18th marathon—and my last. Crossing that final finish line was my 18th marathon. In mystical Judaism, numbers and letters are connected through Gematria, where 18 represents Chai—the word for "life." Completing this race was my own quiet way of saying L’Chaim to a community that has sustained me for 15 years. The Victoria Marathon has always held a special place in my heart; it’s where I ran my first marathon back in 2013, and I’ve always appreciated the warm community support there. This past October, it was about finding a sense of quiet closure. My only goal was to end my marathoning journey exactly where it began. A wave of fatigue hit me around the halfway mark, and I ended up walking the last 10K.  I ended up near the back of the pack, and for the first time in 15 years, I didn't care about the clock. I wasn...