Am I Enjoying This?

I just found something that I had written in my journal that I (of course) barely remember writing, but luckily I had marked the page with a sticky and a big message saying “BLOG THIS!

See, there it is, resting on Dutch’s head (which is also resting):


And who am I to ignore such an insistent note to myself, so I read it, and it turns out I agreed with myself, and so here I am about to BLOG THIS—–>

(How about that: a free post, out of the blue, out of my head, and out of the past!)

And here it is:

September 16th, 2015.  1PM.
For some reason I've been in a really good mood all day.
Unassisted by any pills, booze, or news.
Which is odd since I'm at the hospital right now to determine
what (if anything) to do about this new SPINAL SITCH.
I'm not particularly (at all) nervous about it, but yet
I do have absolutely no idea (I have some idea) 
what will be different for me 1 hour from now.
It could be horrible.
But I'm used that. Three and a half years of that.
No need to start fretting now.

Maybe I feel this way because I've made some decisions
in my gut, and my heart, and combined/separated
this new spinal twist from the path that I was-- AND STILL AM--
on.  (This is important: I'm not leaving the path.
I feel that deep down, and it feels good.)

I had a great meeting with one my board members this
morning, I feel clear and awake, MY HEAD STOPPED
LEAKING! (after dripping so much at dinner last
night that I looked like I was sweating and the entire
top of my shirt was completely soaked).
I Had a good chat with another board member later, thought
of a great plan to do a Cancerful Road Trip to 
hand out Cancer Cards, and bring Cancerful people
to places that can cure cancer for
a moment, and usually an entire day, like National Parks.
Or museums.  Or just places with a lot of garden roses.
(Those always work).
So I've got that to look forward to!  

A Cancerful CureTrip!

But I swear I was in this good mood before that 
wonderfully Cancerful idea occurred to me.

Is it because I actually enjoy
Standing on the edge...
Living with constantly high life stakes...

I think I do enjoy it a bit.
Maybe more than a bit.
Because it really...
a) puts things in perspective.
b) ... makes LIFE exciting.  √

I don't like that first choice not only because it's
(more than) a bit cliché, but really because this
is less (not at all) about diminishing bad things,
and more (all) about enhancing good things.
It's not like "Oh I have brain cancer, 
I might die soon, that bird shit on my jacket
doesn't suck anymore."
It's way more like "wow, fresh mountain air smells
even BETTER now.  How is that possible?
(Who cares how, it just does, and I'm not gonna 
question it, I'm gonna enjoy it.)

The point is... living on this kind of knife's edge

It makes it easier to feel that.  Viscerally.
Throughout the day.  
Like a SPARK:
"Hey, I'm fuckin' ALIVE right now!"

It makes it impossible to ignore that fact.
And that's a pretty good fact, when it's a fact.

Of course, all of this works only if your state
of being at that particular moment is tilted
enough toward the CURED, and less toward

And right now, I feel pretty good.  And that's lucky.
And I know, even with this new news and new treatment stuff
coming my way, that my state of feeling pretty 
good isn't going to downhill anytime soon.  I've
got some time with this state of feeling pretty


I'm CANCERFUL How Are You?

I'm Cancerful, How Are You?

My surgeon, for 3 out of my 4 craniotomies.

Nuthin' Beats It!

Dr. Hu, definitely not expressing hope for a 5th surgery with that thumbs up.

I love those guys.

Oh, and you know what else has had me feeling pretty great (and cured) lately??

All the wonderfully generous donations and comments and emails and offers of help that have been flying our way!

In the past couple of weeks, word has really been getting out, and we have had some pretty wonderful people reaching out to us and offering their time and energy and support, so that is really exciting.

I’ve been working really hard on all this Cancerful stuff you’re seeing for the better part of this year (with some time off in the hospital with a tube in my head and a needle in my spine, although I managed to work both of those into the blog for sympathy 🙂 ).

So to see people like you (YOU!) reacting so emotionally and honestly and generously and (perhaps most importantly for me) understanding what we’re doing here, and what our mission is, and wanting to support that mission… it’s amazing to me.  Wonderful and amazing.  Honestly, it means everything.  It validates everything that we are trying to do, which gives me the inspiration to keep on going.  Plus, it helps me get even closer to the point of believing that THIS WAS ALL WORTH IT.  (The brain cancer, I mean.)

I already feel that way, to a strong degree. But man, if we can make this movie… that thing’s gonna cure a LOT of people. And then I will say with 100% certainty that I am absolutely glad I got the ol’ brain cancer in my brain. Heck, I’ll say it now.

(I actually just really said it out loud, and it made me smile.  And I knew I was being completely honest.)

Because this is fun. And pretty damn meaningful.

Plus, this is way better than what I would be doing right now, if not for the brain cancer.  Which is running a multi-national office supplies retail chain in my spare time.  Full time, of course, I’d be an astronaut. (Staples on the Moon!)

And speaking of generosity (were we speaking of generosity?  I thought we were talking about extraterrestrial office supplies.  But anyway…)

Look how much money we’ve raised!

We’re doing pretty good! We’re setting up movie stuff and getting Cancer Cards printed as we speak!  Cancerful things are rolling!

BUT (here I go again, filthy beggar), we ARE still only 61.33333333333333333%  of the way there to our fundraising goal for this year.  And no one likes repeating decimals.

Especially Dutch.  And the Dutch.

So how about we shut down that Irritatingly Infinite Three, and get some more CancerfulCa$h in the coffers?? Wouldn’t it be something else if by the end of the day we were up to something like… a nice honest percentage like 75%? I mean, who doesn’t like being three quarters of the way there?  Then there’s only 1 quarter left!  That feels way more doable than being 0.666666666666666 away from the goal– because those 6’s will just keep on going forever and ever, so you’re never really gonna get there, you’re always gonna be an infinite number of Irritatingly Infinite Three‘s away!

So please help make our numbers less annoying & Click here to give us a kick us up at least .067 %!  Or even better (or at least just as good) if you’ve already donated and aren’t into fractions, tell somebody you know about how awesome it is what we’re doing, and ask THEM to chip in a couple hundredths of a percent!  Just a few hundredths of a percent!!  And if they like both cancer AND math, they’ll be sure to get us closer to that last quarter!  (And if they get confused and only donate an actual quarter, that’s OK too.  But then you might want to question their supposed expertise at math.)

So that was my Blog From The Past (well, only a week and a half ago), which is actually still completely relevant.  I’m not at the hospital right now, but I AM going there tomorrow (just a little Hu chat-n-hug, nothing major).

But most importantly,


How about that!

– The Eagles finally won, so that helps too.
– No, despite what you might have heard, I am not pregnant.  I just have cancer.
– I am back in LA (for a couple weeks now), not in a hospital in some random other state.
– And I’m feeling pretty good and getting lots done.  Hooray!
– I started on the chemo (Temodar) again last week, and as I suspected it’s not
bothering me a bit.  Hopefully it’s bothering my cancer, at least a little bit.  That’s all I need, because I only have a little bit of cancer.
– The first Cancer Cards are coming REALLY soon, so if you want one (or a whole bunch) give us a shout here or on website and we’ll make sure you’re playing them ASAP!  (But not to cheat your friends out of paying your fair share of the bill.  Unless they would think that’s funny, in which case go for it.  It’s your call how to use your new Cancerful powers.)

Thanks everybody and goodnight!  Let’s wake up to some less-decimally donation numbers!  (And if you can get PayPal to let you donate an amount with an infinite repeating decimal, we will be really impressed.)

An Update! (He Said Succinctly)

I don’t normally say–well, write–things succinctly, so I’m going to try with this post.  Watch me go!  Succinctly!

For the benefit of our audience who might not recognize that word, here it is…
in 11 different languages! Which one’s your fave?






Kurz und bündig


Haitian Creole:


Manera sucinta


We actually do have an international audience here at the Brain Chancery. But clearly all I’m doing here is not being succinct, for the sake of a joke. That took me like 10 minutes to put that list together. Already off to a bad start. I could have just been short and to the point, and said “it means ‘short and to the point.”

OK let’s turn this thing around… succinctly!  Go!


To my SPINE!!!

Wow, that was certainly short and to the point.
But it’s true.

And there’s more!  (Information, not cancer.)

And most of the information I’m about to share with you (probably un-succinctly) will make you un-spit-out the chunk of food you may have just ejected because of my succinctly shocking announcement.  (Sorry for that. But thank you for caring so much if you really did just spit something out.  That’s really touching.  And it’s not touching me, which is a plus.
(BTW, if you sharted a little bit when you read it, that means you really love me.

I love you too mom!!! 😉

OK so here’s the fine print on that whole “MY CANCER HAS SPREAD TO MY SPINE!” thing.  Because it’s not as bad as it sounds.  (Which sounds impossible, but you’re about to see why it’s true…)

THE #1 REASON WHY THIS ISN’T HORRIBLE — Plain and simple (and succinct): This is not horrible because the cancer has  only spread to one place.  Well, 2 places, but both are in the same place.  Right next to each other.  And both are very, veryVERY tiny.

Like, the size of a… you can’t even do the fruit size analogy with this one, because there are no fruits this tiny.  (Not even the acai berry, which I don’t actually know how big it is, or how to say that word, but the internet says it’s the tiniest fruit there is.)

Why don’t I just show you how tiny this new cancer is.  Now that would be succinct.

Here, look at this– those two spots that are marked by arrows, those are the spots.9-21-15_spine-w-arrows

See?  They’re totally teeny (and tiny).
All that other white stuff you see?  Don’t worry about any of that– that’s all normal stuff.  I swear.  Soft tissue, peanut butter, stuff like that. (I’m not kidding.  Even though I just made a joke.

When I took the picture, Dr. Hu suggested we get one with my head in it, so you would have a better idea of what was going on where.  He made me squat and move my face until I was in the same position.  It was funny.  I love my doctors.

Me and My Spine

Me, and me with my head cut in half

For reference, my mouth & nose are on the left side of this picture.  Lots of peanut butter over there.  My spinal cord is smack in the middle (that handsome grey stripe that goes from top to bottom).  And the two teeny tiny spots are located up toward the top of the spinal cord.  They look like they’re buried in the middle, but they’re actually located on the very outside surface of the spinal cord.  Which is also good.  (They’re more easily exposed to whatever we want to expose them to.  More on this below.)

That’s a lot of questions for one question.  I’ll try to be more succinct than you, even though I clearly wrote that long-winded question.
Answer: I had my usual brain MRI about a week ago.  When I did, everything looked good (no new cancer in the brain at all, and the spot they removed during surgery #4 remains removed.)
However, there was this ONE tiny spot (teeny, actually) that we could see in the brain stem, up where the spinal cord meets the brain and says hello.  When we saw this, Dr. Hu wasn’t terribly concerned, but he suggested that I get a full spine MRI to be cautious, to make sure that the cancer wasn’t suddenly all over the place.

So I did.  And the results were, on the whole, really good.  There is no cancer anywhere in my spine, from butt to brain, except for the spot we had seen a few days before that prompted the scan, and the tiny spot next to it.

And that’s a really good thing.  Hence me not sounding overly worried about any of this.  And that’s not me just magically “staying positive”– this actually is, logically, a pretty positive situation when you look at what could have happened.  I could be dead, or my spine could be filled with huge tumors, in which case I would be soon.  But neither of those things are true.  I’m alive, and my spine is 99.9% clean!

Your spine (and mine) are part of the same system as the brain.  They share lots of stuff, aside from thoughts.  Including, importantly, the fact that they’re surrounded by and floating in Cerebral Spinal Fluid (CSF).  That’s the stuff that’s been leaking out of my face– the stuff that I’m overly good at producing.  Individual brain tumor cells can actually float around in CSF, and since I’ve had such a CSF circus (not to mention another brain surgery, which tends to stir the stuff up), Dr. Hu explained that it’s relatively normal that some of my GBM might go for a swim in my CSF and find a new home elsewhere in my BSS (Brainial Spine Situation– not a real thing, but I needed another acronym so I made one up).

So that’s probably how this happened.

Cancer spreads.
Mine did too.
But not very successfully.
Woo hoo!

(Hmm, that’s a decent song lyric.  Read it out loud. If you like it, maybe I’ll put it in the movie…)


Geez, calm down with the extravagant punctuation.  The answer is “No.”  With a simple period.

Dr. Hu also explained that any spreading of cancer (including on toast points) tends to make people freak out and think “holy shit, now it’s gonna go all over the place!)  With glioblastoma, however, this is never really the case.  It doesn’t get all fired up to take over your body– in my case one or two cells probably just fell off, took a slow float down the Cerebral Spinal Stream, landed on the shores of my spinal column, and set up a little tent.

Good question.  One option would be to do nothing.  To just wait, and see if it grows anymore.  I’ve been through a lot, so this actually sounds like an attractive option to me.  And I’ve still got a bunch of weird experimental treatments floating around in my body, so who knows– this new stuff could just disappear.  But there’s also the chance that it wouldn’t.
With that in mind* (*brain pun) I’d rather be aggressive, as I have in the past.
It’s worked well for me to just keep doing everything I can possibly do, so I’m going to continue on that path.

I’m going to start treatment again.

Amazingly, I have a couple of options.  I say “amazingly” because with glioblastoma, there usually aren’t many (any) options.  So this is another (very very) good thing.  There are actually things I can do.  I’ll explain only the options that I’m considering, mostly so I don’t have to explain the other ones (at least yet) which will save me from having to type more while I finish my cookies and milk.

Surgery:  Usually this is your #1 go-to, but in this case it’s not an option.  The spots are too small, plus I’m tired of having brain surgery for the moment,  And we don’t even know with 100% certainty that those two spots are cancer.  (The only way to find out is to take some of it out and test it–which means surgery, not gonna do that–or have a spinal tap and test the CSF around that part of the spine.  And Dr. Hu said this test doesn’t even work very well.  So I’m definitely not gonna do that.  I’ve had enough spinal taps for 2015.

CyberKnife, aka Gamme Knife:  This one I’ve kind of always wanted to do, but mostly because the names (not to mention the technology) are so cool.  Technically it’s called “Stereotactic Radio Surgery” (not as cool, but at least it has an acronym– SRS).  This is a surgical procedure where they use two beams of radiation to roast a specific spot inside your brain.  It’s very different than the radiation I got before, which was a diffuse beam spread over a large area.  With SRS, each beam doesn’t do anything on its own until it intersects with the other beam.  So they set them to intersect right where your cancer is, and then… well, your cancer gets cooked.  SRS actually has a really great success rate: somewhere around 85% of the time, within 1 year the cancer is gone and still has not come back.  Which pretty much means it won’t.  So that’s an awesome option to have.
The thing is, again, my spots are too teeny tiny to even do this treatment!  Which is vaguely disappointing for the moment, but obviously a good thing.  AND (this is the really good part) — if the cancer does start to grow, that means I will actually have ANOTHER option to turn to!  And it’s an option that works really well.  So that’s pretty wonderful.  I’ve already got a backup if things get worse.  That makes me even less worried about all of this.

Chemo:  This is what I’m going to do, starting ASAP.  Yes I know, everybody hates chemo, but again, I’m happy to have the option.  I’m going to start taking Temodar again, which is the same exact stuff that I took at the beginning, for an entire year.  One great thing is that this time, I’m going to take a much lower dosage, and I have so much less tumor in there now that this makes sense.  It has a good chance of working.  And here’s a big reason why we think so:

Temodar doesn’t always work for everybody, and sometimes it doesn’t work at all.  But as Dr. Hu pointed out: for that year that I was taking Temodar, my cancer did not spread or grow at all.  It only shrunk.  So I’m in the (small) category of people for whom it’s reasonable to say that Temodar works.  So I’m gonna do it.  And the (much) lower dose– plus the fact that I know this stuff really well, having taken so much of it for so long– both mean that I’m totally comfortable to start on it again.  It’s one pill before I go to bed, and that’s it.  No wait– TWO PILLS!  1 Temodar, and 1 anti-nausea pill.

This time I will ALWAYS remember to take the anti-nausea pill before the chemo.  So there won’t be any more barfing.  And this time I’m taking like a tenth as much, so the mental side effects will definitely be a lot less severe.  Plus I wrote a freaking movie while on the heavy dosage, so this time I should be totally fine.  It’s not going to change my day to day life, or the way I feel and what I’m able to do, really at all.  This is huge for me.  And again I’m not just staying positive– these facts are all True Facts™!  So believe it!

And that’s it for the treatment!  Not bad at all.  Which brings me to the next question…

This is a question I get asked a lot, but here I will actually answer it.
It’s an important question.  Because to me, as long as I can maintain somewhat of a semblance of the life I had before all of this (or one that’s even more fun and rewarding and impactful), then I don’t mind the cancer thing so much–  I am Cancerful, and I am happy.  And I will not complain about any of it.
And I am, in fact, happy.  I mean, this is all a huge pain in the ass, but I’m gonna make a movie that cures cancer!  And it’s going to be great!  I mean, did you hear the first song that we did!??  (It’s on this page in case you missed it, and if you’ve heard it already, listen to it again.)

To get back to the question– physically, I don’t feel different at all because of this new cancer.  It’s a bit of a drag emotionally that this is happening (more on this below), but it is not affecting me at all physically.  This is really important, and kind of part of the diagnosis/prognosis– because once this stuff starts pressing on the wrong nerves and making you paralyzed n’ stuff, that’s when you’re in trouble.  But I’ve got nothing even close to that.  Not so much as a numb toe.  We’d never have known about this if it weren’t for the MRIs.  And I’ll keep getting them so we can keep an eye on it (next one is in mid-November (if you’re keeping track, which I clearly am not because I don’t remember, and I didn’t even put it on my calendar).

As far as the headaches and the the leaky head situations:
Turns out these two things may have been related all along.  As you’ve heard, since my surgery in June, I’ve had extra Cerebral Spinal Fluid coming out of my skull.  And sometimes my face.  Since then, we have started to figure out why.  See– most of the scans I’ve had since June have shown that my ventricles, which are empty pockets (naturally occurring) in your brain where CSF is produced, look bigger than they were, and would normally be.  This means that they’re swollen with extra CSF.  So they’re either producing it too quickly, or I’m not absorbing it as quickly as I used to.
Either way there’s too much of it, and this is why it’s been flying out of my temple willy nilly.
But it’s also quite possible why I’ve been having headaches all along.  Or at least, it could be one of the reasons.  All of that extra pressure is bound to cause some pain, and I definitely have extra pressure in there (it was being monitored with that tube that was inside my skull for a week in Philadelphia).  So this is a pretty obvious explanation for the headaches.  I’m actually taking a new drug as of last week that is supposed to decrease the production of CSF.  We’ll see if that does anything.
(So far, not so much.  I’m still selling organic CSF shakes at the Farmer’s Market.  I call it, un-ironically, “Brain Juice!”™  And I’m kind of making a killing–  these Echo Park hipsters love weird shit, and they’ll pay top dollar for it.  And nobody else is selling juice that literally came out of a human being’s brain.

Mentally/Emotionally I feel, overall… not bad.  I’m not gonna say good– I have to take a lot of pills, I’m still hazy & sleepy & I still get a lot of headaches.  And my face still leaks occasionally.  And I can’t really exercise because it exacerbates the leaking, so I feel lazy and out of shape, which decreases my energy level even more.  Plus I’m a lot fatter than I was before my shitbox WonderSummer — although people keep telling me “you look great!” (Probably because I don’t look dead.)
And this is all really hard.  But the biggest thing that I WAS worried about (for the last three years, in fact) is the moment when I’m so burdened by treatments / tumors / hospital visits, etc. that I can’t really live my life anymore.  When I become a patient, not a person.  I got a little taste of that this summer, and it sucked as much as I’d feared.  But I made it through that, and I’m somewhat back on my feet now.  And that’s making me very happy.  I’m working again, I have purpose, we’re doing some really wonderful stuff at the Cancerful Foundation, and some of that stuff we are about to launch very very soon (you’ll hear about it right away on this blog, or out of my mouth, or on Ellen).

And all of that is pretty much making me feel like getting brain cancer was worth it.

This is the most important thing in the world to me now:

CancerfulI was talking to a friend recently and realized that I’m not scared of dying because it would mean losing my life–I’ve had enough Wonderful Life for a few lifetimes, and I don’t want to be greedy about it.  Any fear I might have about dying right now would pretty much only be because I’m so excited about and proud of all the things we’re doing (and planning to do) at the Cancerful Foundation.  And it absolutely breaks my heart to think of disappearing before all–and I mean all– of that stuff has come to fruition.  Because it’s all possible, and it’s all beautiful, and I know and believe down to my very core how much our work can help–really cure— people who have cancer.  We’re doing things that nobody else is doing or has done.  Things that people with cancer really need (like, to laugh about it occasionally.  Or sing.  Or be talked to honestly, from people who are in the same boat as they).
I believe it’s all going to happen, and I’m already getting to see some of it.  We have already worked so hard and done so much and we’re so close!  But we need to move fast!  Every time something like this happens to me, it revs up my “Keep going!  Get it done, Peacock!” engines.

Speaking of which, I can’t do it all by myself.  So now it’s time for me to act the part of Head Cancerful (get it? My title is a pun!  And I hate puns!  But I clearly love brain cancer puns) and part of the part of being Head Cancerful means… asking you for money!  You probably know this because I’ve probably asked you for money already.

But right now we’re in our first big fund raising push.  We’re doing pretty well, but we still need to raise about $5,000 more by the end of this month (this month!) to hit our target for September and not have to stop doing all the awesome Cancerful things that we’re doing.

So if you can help, please click this link (or the logo above) and give what you can!  And if “what you can” happens to be five grand, then you’re gonna be in the movie.  Or at least your name will be.  And you’ll definitely be at the premier.  But this money isn’t for the movie yet– it’s to to fund our first big effort– THE CANCER CARD! (That’s it below– more details if you click the picture…)
The Cancer Card!We’re hoping to get them printed up ASAP so we can start handing them out– free of charge– to anybody who has cancer!
It’ll cure them when they first hold it in their hand, it’ll cure them when they show it to their friends and get a laugh, and it’ll cure them when it gets them into a National Park for free.  And speaking of which, we’re planning a little Cancerful Road Trip to distribute the cards, and to take some Cancerful people to places that are so awesome and beautiful that they can cure cancer.  (I’ve written about a few on this blog.)

I will keep you updated on the Cancer Cards as soon as we make it happen– so please help us get this curing mission going right away!

Thanks for reading.  I hope I’ve answered enough questions that I can refer people to this post when they ask me how I’m doing.  (So please let me know if there’s anything I missed or that you’re still curious about.)

And I hope I was successfully succinct.

So to sum up, succinctly:

Yes, I’ve got a little more cancer, but maybe I just got a little more motivation.

Cancerfully yours,
– Chad

What a Summer! What…? A Summer?

Now that the summer of 2015 is (unofficially) over, I’m left wondering what it was like.  See, a few days before it started, on June 18th, I had my 4th brain surgery, and in the 11.6 weeks since then I’ve mostly been… well, recovering from that darned brain surgery.

Sure, I’ve had some fun, and I got a little sun, but I also spent a good amount of time in… 4 different hospitals in 3 different states.  I took at least 3 ambulance rides (woo hoo!), I experienced my first spinal tap, I had about 15 different individual fevers, I had a drain put in my brain, and I was hooked up to intravenous antibiotics for several weeks that were probably unnecessary and made me break out into hives.  What a blast!  (It wasn’t.)

But I don’t like to complain, so I’ll quickly shift over to the good news, which is this: Weirdo Medical Summer is now over, and I AM STILL HERE!  Woo hoo!  (That’s a real “woo hoo,” not a sarcastic one.)

Even better, during these last 11 weeks, I somehow managed to accomplish a bunch of stuff that I’m extremely proud of.  And am extremely proud to tell you about right now.

The first thing was, I ran to my brain surgery.  (For the 2nd time.)  Which was cool and everything, but this time, we filmed it!  And made a really cool little film out of it.  You may have seen a preview, but here is the real thing.  I hope you like it…

This film was made with the help and support of a wonderful team of friends and pros who donated their time, and I can’t thank them enough for their efforts.  My hope was that I could turn having to have brain surgery again into something good, and because of this film, I’m glad it happened!  And I’ll be even more glad if the film succeeds at its main purpose, which is to raise a bunch of money for the Cancerful Foundation!  (We were going to make a video of me asking for money sitting in a chair, but this seemed to be a little more fun and inspiring.)

Speaking of the Cancerful Foundation, the second thing I pulled off during my Sad Sickypants Summer was finishing up our WONDERFUL, CANCERFUL NEW WEBSITE!


If you haven’t seen the new website yet, please check it out.  There’s all sorts of info about what we’re up to and all the ways we’re hoping to cure cancer:
We’re making A Movie, we’re making a magical card that turns cancer into a perk (The Cancer Card!), and we’re making a website that helps people with cancer easily get the little things they could really use help with on a day to day basis (it’s called “Cure My Day“, and it’s basically a bridal registry for cancer patients.  Like: instead of china, a ride to the doctor on Thursday.)

Oh and I’m also going to start writing “Cancer!  The Manual!“– a (not Idiot’s) guide to the things that happen to EVERY Cancerful person that nobody ever talks about.  For example: some of your friends will completely disappear (it’s true).  And every day, somebody who cares about you or who you just bumped into at Starbucks will lecture you about some vegetable or supplement that you absolutely MUST eat “because my friend’s dog totally had a tumor and it totally went away in like 2 days with this stuff and the big pharma companies are just trying to make money off you with their poison!
Stuff like that.  And a lot more.  And it’ll be free.  And it’ll be funny.  I’ve got a good stash of cancer jokes.  And I have learned that Cancerful people like to laugh about cancer now and then, because it rarely happens, and it can totally cure the hell out of you for a moment.  And that’s what the Cancerful Foundation’s mission is all about.

So that’s it!  Wow, that’s a lot.

But in the spirit of Labor Day–  myself and the wonderful Cancerful teammates who are helping me (and who I can not thank enough for their dedication and hard work) still have a lot more work to do.

And we need your help!  Because making innovative new cancer cures ain’t cheap.  It’s definitely not free.  Well, except for the jokes.  Like the one where I filled the bag that was draining cerebral spinal fluid directly out of my skull with blue Gatorade, and asked the horrified nurses if there was something wrong with me.  (OK, I didn’t really do that, but that image just made me laugh, and I bet somebody out there with cancer will laugh at it too.  See, there’s a tiny cured second right there!)

So anyway, if I haven’t asked you already (if you know me, I’m sure I’ve asked you already, but forgive me for asking you again):
Please keep this cancer-curing train rolling at top speed by donating to the Cancerful Foundation!
There are links all over the place on this blog, and on our new website, and even in this series of words right here.
(Did you find it?)

See how easy it is?  You don’t have an excuse for not donating!  Other than simply not feeling like giving us money.  Which is OK, because it is your money after all.  Until it’s ours.  Or somebody else’s.  Like Starbucks.  Which tastes good, we get it.  (Yes, that was totally a backhanded comparison between choosing caffeinated beverages over curing cancer.)  Wait– is guilt a good way to get people to donate money?  I’m new at this, so if it isn’t, then please just ignore the fact that I said that Starbucks thing, and focus on anything else I’ve said or done that you find funny or inspiring and might get you to chip in a few bucks 😉

Plus hey– and I mean this– I deeply appreciate the fact that you’re reading this, and that you care enough to do so. That really IS enough, because it inspires me to keep doing this.  So I’m gonna keep doing this.

I just really want to make this movie happen, and all of the other cancer-curing stuff I’ve been talking about.  I believe in our Foundation and our mission, and I know how much we can help people with what we’re doing.  And nobody else is really doing anything like this, and– believe me– there’s a huge need for it.  For all of it.  And if we don’t do it, nobody else is going to!  So we need to do it!
Chop Chop Peacock, get it done!”  (That’s what I say to myself every morning after I chug my turmeric and cannabinoid oil smoothy.  No I don’t. ;))

So… we’re just asking for help.  No guilt, pushiness or cajoling intended.  Just the truth.  (And a little cajoling, to be truthful.)

We can really help people here.  We’ve already started.  I got an email from someone in another country saying that that video of me running made her friend (who has terminal cancer) smile for the first time in weeks.  And that’s just a preview of a preview of a preview of what we’re doing.  So that feels pretty good.  But we need to do more!  Think of how much more we can do!  And we’ve got the plan and the will– We just need some old fashioned “resources” (i.e., cold hard ca$h) to pull it all off.

And hey– if I have to have another brain surgery and do cartwheels to it this time to make an even stronger case for our Foundation and our mission, I am absolutely willing to… joke around about the possibility of doing that, and then let somebody quickly talk me out of it.

So to sum up…
I jogged to brain surgery for the second time.
Big frickin’ whoop.
Then I got sick.
Boo frickin’ hoo.
But now I’m feeling better, and motivated, and on a roll, and most importantly I’m alive!
Whoopty Frick’ Doo!
(That last one, not sarcastic.  But the other ones yes, sarcastic.)

And now I’m asking for money!
Yippee doo I hope it works!




Thanks for reading.  I’m gonna go to bed.

G’night from the Cancerful!