Just do it

When I talk about my plastic and rubber body parts, I always seem to forget my oldest fake body part of all: my hearing aids.

I always carry my hearing aids with me, though I don't always have them plugged into my ears. At the moment, one of the aids doesn't work, but the other one does and I wear it at work and in some other situations.

On Sunday I went to the Laemmle on Sunset Boulevard to catch a new documentary on the advertising business called "Art & Copy," and when I settled into my seat I put the working hearing aid in my left ear and kept the other one in my hearing aid pouch. I guess I left the pouch in my lap and during the movie it fell to the floor. It wasn't until I was already heading home after the movie that I realized it was gone.

My health insurance no longer covers hearing aids, so replacing one would cost me hundreds of dollars. I panicked and rushed back to the theater.

I handed a note to the ticket-taker explaining that I left something important at my seat. She said I was welcome to go back into the theater to look for it, but the next screening had just begun and it might be hard to find anything in the dark, especially if someone was sitting in the seat I had.

The theater was pretty full, so I just found a vacant seat to sit through the film again and wait for the houselights to come up.

Fortunately, "Art & Copy" is a good film that was just as enjoyable the second time around. In it, a number of figures in the advertising industry talk about the inspiration behind campaigns for clients like Apple, Nike, Tommy Hilfiger and many others, but it became clear to me during the repeat viewing that the film is about more than simply advertising.

One line toward the end of the film leaped out at me the second time I heard it. Explaining that advertising artists and writers —or the people who hire them— sometimes make bad decisions based on fear rather than take bold steps driven by inspiration, Mary Wells, founder of Wells Rich Greene, says "I think fear is a powerful depressant."

When I heard that line again, a proverbial light bulb illuminated above my head. Lately, my health situation has kept my dreams on a short leash, and my fear about where this is all leading has kept me from taking more risks, thinking differently, living my life as fully as I should.

The message was loud and clear the second time around. Lucky for me that I saw "Art & Copy" again.

And by the way, I found the pouch with my hearing aid.

Catch ya next time, Mr. Armstrong

It sorta sucks lurking on the periphery of L.A.'s cycling community.

I'm working on getting back into the spin of things, but it's taking time. Meanwhile, I missed out on participating in an event that L.A. cyclists are buzzing feverishly about today.

On Wednesday, Tour de France champion and cancer survivor Lance Armstrong tweeted this message to his followers on Twitter: "Hey LA - get out of your cars and get on your bikes. Time to ride. 7:30 tomorrow am. Griffith Park, LA Zoo parking lot. See you there."

I didn't learn about Armstrong's visit till this morning as I was scanning Facebook posts before heading to the office. If I had jumped into my cycling gear right that minute and hopped aboard my bike, I would have been able to make it to Griffith Park to join him, but I would have had a lot of 'splaining to do to my boss when I arrived late for work.

Luckily, it appears that a handful of my cycling friends did ride with Lance Armstrong this morning —along with a few hundred other riders— and will be chattering about it for some time to come. One of my friends says that she even got Armstrong's autograph on something that looks like a purse. (From the photo posted on Facebook, it looks like he signed his name in Farsi.)

Would Lance have agreed to autograph my G-tube? I probably will never know. He already has left L.A., and is tweeting from Quebec.


Lance Armstrong visits Griffith Park

Smooth moves

I always get a little nervous when I shave these days.

I just don't recognize the guy in the mirror whose face I'm trying to shave. Beyond the shock of unfamiliarity, it's really difficult to get a close shave on the parts of my face that have premature rigor mortis. It's like shaving moss off of a rock. I'm horrified that I'm going to break the razor or chip part of my chin.

The night before a new work week begins, I give it my best shot. Around the middle of the week, I'll stand before the mirror again and give myself a maintenance shave but it never seems to do much good.

Which gives me another reason to admire Pee-wee Herman. Pee-wee sure is clean-shaven.

On Sunday, I went to the Silent Movie Theatre for a screening of "Pee-wee's Big Adventure," which was released almost 25 years ago and is just as funny now as it was then. If I could laugh, I would have laughed for the entire film —from the first scene, in which Pee-wee dreams that he wins the Tour de France, to the last, when he and his friend Dottie fly their bicycles, E.T.-like, in front of a drive-in movie screen.

Before the film, a few clips of Pee-wee's appearances on Late Night with David Letterman were shown. Man, how I wish I could laugh out loud. Maybe you can do that for me.

Pee-wee's humor may not be everyone's cup of tea —I get the feeling that Dave doesn't quite know what to make of him— but if nothing else, you gotta admire Pee-wee's clean shave.

It's only jock 'n' roll

One nice thing about riding my bike again is that I have rescued my cycling wardrobe from a destiny of mothballs.

Up until three years ago, I was content with cycling in a ratty T-shirt and cut-offs. Then I unloaded my clunky Schwinn on a friend, invested in a new road bike for myself and started training with serious cyclists.

It didn’t take long for me to catch on that I didn’t look like the other cyclists who passed me on the road. More important, I wasn’t as comfortable riding in street clothes as they seemed to be riding in jerseys and shorts designed for cycling. So before I got a reputation among my new cycling friends for making poor fashion choices, I decided that I better grow up and start looking like a serious cyclist myself.

My first cycling jersey was a Pos Ped jersey. Then I discovered the Rockware Jockware section of the store at the Rolling Stones’ website, and went wild one afternoon loading up on jerseys for the seven days of AIDS/LifeCycle 5.

My collection of Stones jerseys grew to a ridiculous size while training for AIDS/LifeCycle 6 and AIDS/LifeCycle 7. I must own eight or nine Stones jerseys now, all of them a different treatment of the band’s tongue logo. Maybe that doesn’t sound like an absurd amount to you but these babies cost $80 a pop! For three years now, I’ve been underwriting Mick Jagger’s summer vacations in the Mediterranean and keeping Keith Richards clad in Louis Vuitton.

At the same time, I was acquiring annual additions to my set of Pos Ped jerseys, and picking up AIDS/LifeCycle commemorative jerseys as well. So by now I reckon I own 25 jerseys in all.

If this cancer crisis had turned out differently than it has, I probably would have never worn those jerseys again, unless I decided to be buried in one of them. So it’s truly a wonderful feeling to slide open the drawer in my bureau where I keep my cycling gear, and picking out a jersey to wear.

I’m about ready to slip into my red, white and blue Stones tongue jersey to head home to begin the holiday weekend. What makes my cycling excursions even sweeter these days is that those fat red tongues on my Stones cycling jerseys are now more than a corporate logo; they're a symbol of my recovery-to-come.

But seriously, I don't need to go on any more shopping sprees in the Stones' Rockware Jockware shop. No matter how badly Keith needs to buy another pair of alligator boots.

Patti is back in town

Rock goddess Patti Smith and her band are back in town for a free performance tonight at the Santa Monica Pier.

I really have a jones for Smith —and have ever since I was a pudgy, pimply punk in high school and Patti released her album Horses. But I'm going to pass on her show at the Pier tonight.

Call me a fuddy duddy. But I just can't summon the patience to crawl to Santa Monica during the evening rush —that "subway to the sea" can't come soon enough— struggle to find parking and then stand for a few hours in a crowd craning my neck to get a good view of Patti and her band mates. With luck, she'll come back to L.A. sometime soon and perform at a venue where I can sit during the performance and sip Metamucil through my G-tube during the intermission.

I know I'll regret my decision once I start reading reports of tonight's show. Patti never disappoints.

Only a month ago I saw Patti at a book signing in West Hollywood for Patti Smith: Dream of Life (Rizzoli International Publications, 2008). It was the second time that I met Patti, following a signing event at Amoeba Music a while back. I handed a note to Patti thanking her for all of the enjoyment she has provided over the years, and explaining that I couldn't tell her that with my voice because I had cancer. (The signing took place the day after my biopsy but several days before my doctor told me that I no longer had any evidence of cancer.)

I was too flustered to remember the exact words that Patti spoke but she wished me the best and said something like "Get healthy," as she looked directly into my eyes. Once Patti Smith has looked directly into your eyes, you are never the same again.

In my copy of her book Patti wrote, "To Paul: People have the power" and signed her name.

Patti, I'm sorry I won't see you dancing barefoot on stage tonight but I want you to know that I am on the road to getting healthy. Have a great time at the Pier.

Twilight Dance Series at the Santa Monica Pier

Courage comes in colors

When my radiation treatments ended in March, I walked out of the treatment lab toting a souvenir.

I'm not talking about the side effects from treatment that I'm still dealing with five months later, though I suppose that they are a souvenir badge of my treatments in a twisted sort of way.

I'm talking about the ThermaSplint mask that was molded to the contours of my face for my 33 treatment sessions in February and March. Each visit, before beginning treatment, the radiation techs lowered the mask over my head and locked it into place to keep me from shifting position while the rays were targeting my tumors.

At the conclusion of the final session, the radiation techs ceremoniously presented my mask to me, correctly guessing that I would be jazzed about displaying my mask in my living room.

I placed my mask on top of my television when I got home that night. But it wasn't long before the thing started to give me the creeps whenever I watched my Mary Tyler Moore Show DVDs so I found a place for the mask on the upper shelf of a bookcase in my bedroom.

I don't have any plans for using the mask again, but if you turn on the news one day and hear about a reward being offered for information leading to the capture of a ThermaSplint bandit robbing banks, go ahead and turn me in.

Well, to my surprise I learned that I'm not the only guy in the world with a fetish for ThermaSplint head gear.

A friend just let me know about "Courage Unmasked": a fund-raising event taking place next Wednesday at the American University Museum at the Katzen Art Center in Washington, D.C. One hundred artists have transformed radiation masks formerly worn by cancer patients into unique works of art, with proceeds from the event benefiting head and neck patients who are not able to afford radiation treatment for themselves.

Check out this gallery of photos of the Courage Unmasked collection. I hate to play favorites, but I love the Mr. Potato Head vibe that artist Susan Cole created for "Member of the (Medicine) Cabinet" and the whimsy shown in Raymond Van Santen's "The Magic of Courage."

Courage Unmasked just may inspire me to do something fancy to my own ThermaSplint mask, which is a spitting image of its owner, especially the nose. It would make a splendid rhinoceros.


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Recovery in slow-mo

Cancer has fled the scene without leaving a forwarding address, but I still have regular pit stops with my Kaiser providers to monitor my recovery.

And so the month that began buoyantly with my doctors' pronouncement that I am cancer-free ended on Monday on a flat note, with my doctors acknowledging that I'm likely to be saddled with the side effects from radiation and chemotherapy treatments for longer than I would like.

My appointment in Kaiser's Radiation Oncology Department was my first visit there in nearly two months. The last time I was in Radiation Oncology was a real downer. I learned that my Jacko PET scan –so dubbed because it took place the day that Michael Jackson died– showed lingering signs of cancer activity, despite the barrage of treatments I had in February and March.

Even though that PET scan was disproved by my biopsy in July, Monday's visit was not exactly celebratory.

The pace of my recovery from radiation and chemotherapy is stubbornly slow. At times, it seems that I haven't made any progress at all over the past five months. My mouth barely can open; the pain in my face continues; I still have no feeling at all in parts of chin and jaw.

Dr. Chen, the lead doctor in Radiation Oncology, told me on Monday that we just have to wait and see how things go. Before giving me a chance to reply, Dr. Chen added, "I know you must be tired of hearing me say that."

I am. But I knew even before treatments began that the side effects could be severe and slow in diminishing –possibly, the damage from treatments will be permanent.

I didn't walk out of Monday's visit empty-handed. Dr. Chen said that I could resume exercising the mobility of my jaw. While I already have a TheraBite mouthpiece designed for these exercises, Dr. Chen recommends that I stick Popsicle sticks in my mouth for now. He even gave me a starter set, which saves me the trouble of buying a box of Popsicles and tossing out the part you eat.

I'll start with one Popsicle stick, and then add more if I think my mouth can handle it.

By the time of my next visit with Dr. Chen, I hope to make real progress. Eventually I hope to become the Jack LaLanne of Popsicle-stick calisthenics, and then move on to complete Popsicles.

And after that? Frisbees.