Exercise Makes You Happy, Even if You're a Radiated Mouse

ScienceDaily (Oct. 19, 2009) — Exercise is a key factor in improving both memory and mood after whole-brain radiation treatments in rodents, according to data presented by Duke University scientists at the Society for Neuroscience meeting.

Now wouldn't you know it? Memory and mood can be helped by exercise. Even after radiation. Even in rodents.

So saith the neuroscientists; thus saith the lord.

"This is the first demonstration that exercise can prevent a decline in memory after whole-brain radiation treatment," said lead researcher and graduate student Sarah Wong-Goodrich of the Duke Department of Psychology and Neuroscience.

Exercise appears to actually protect against the loss of memory and the increase in depressive-like behaviors, Wong-Goodrich said.

"Once a patient gets a doctor's clearance, I think exercise is a good thing during whole-brain radiation," he [Researcher Lee W. Jones, Ph.D.] said. "I think telling patients to take it easy is the worst advice we can give, because we know they will become deconditioned physically, and this study shows exercise potentially could provide cognitive and psychological benefits."

This work was supported by grants from the National Institutes of Health and the Duke University Comprehensive Cancer Center.

We had to study mickey on a grant and we couldn't just survey human patients?

Yes, I think this was a mousy project and I hope too much money wasn't wasted on it. (There was an article in the New York Times this past summer saying projects had to be silly like this to win the lottery.)

How'd I remember that?

I tell you this: I was about to get on the elliptical. And I's gwanna get on it anyways. Cuz I wanna remember things like a rat.

Dr. A Shot the Ear Wax

Dr. A took the metal blaster filled with water and hydrogen peroxide and he kept shooting it into my left ear. Was it sexy or was it silly? Was it messy? Was it useless?

I still heard nothing.

I had just read how radiation might cause eventual deafness in one ear and you know what? I came to realize that for weeks, that for months, that damn left ear had weaker hearing than the right. Was I making this up? Was brain tumor boy now hypochondriac?

I didn't hear you.

The solution was getting all over my t-shirt, my shoulder, down my stomach, and onto the floor, then my right ear recognized a sound: they had found something. But it was not enough. He kept shooting. And shooting. And he found something again. But I still heard nothing from my left ear. I was worried. But Dr. A was not. He had seen this before.

Boom/squirt, boom/squirt, boom/squirt, again and again, until, Wow! I was staring at the floor, but I felt the nurse and Karla and Doc A squint in awe at something strange and larger than expected being pulled out.

All of a sudden I could hear again.

And I saw the brown curls like tiny burnt macaroni in the sink.

It has nothing to do with your brain tumor, he said. Just come on by for a cleaning next time you're having trouble hearing.

When we stepped outside I heard the wind. And I hear the wind now. And I hear the ice cream truck song singing on a Saturday afternoon on the first day of August when it's only 71 degrees.

A Roof is Like a Brain

We just had our roof done last week. Four layers ripped off and a new one placed. We had to. The inspector told us when we moved in: "you'll need to in a few years," and now seven years have passed. Last year we got some drips in the ceiling after rainstorms.

We got different prices, looked at different catalogs, talked to different salespeople. Similar, but not the same. And not cheap. But in the end, we knew we'd never know the final price until it was over. And we'll also never know how things will be after the next big storm until it hits; how the roof will be in three years, in five years, in ten. And would our house be different if we would have used another roofer?

A roof does not think, but it's on the top of the house. And though a brain does all that thinking, let's not forget it's an organ; it's tissue. On the top of the head. On the top of the body.

When this tumor returned some five years ago, I asked five doctors what I should do. I got six different opinions: chemo; radiation alone; radiation and chemo together; no, biopsy first; surgery; no, just wait another six months and let's see what happens.

While I wasn't happy having to make such a decision, I'm happy with the decisions we made.

So when I heard neighbors talking with each other out the window this morning about how they would have done our roof differently, how they didn't like the color, how they disagreed with the roofers' technique, and so on, I was confused. I waited and sipped my coffee. I went for a walk. Three miles. I stared at roof after roof after roof. And when I got to ours from across the street, I

thought ours was the most beautiful roof in the neighborhood. I was pleased with our decision.

Questions, Answers, and Whiskey Celebrations

Two weeks ago I had a good MRI. The thing hasn't disappeared or anything but things have been stable for a while. Here's to radiation. Here's to Temodar.

Or is it?

Cuz what did what? Get it? I did them both at the same time over two years ago, continued with the chemo thing, so who's to get the trophy?

Besides me, that is. Cuz I'm still here. Still here with love and the ability to write such gushy words as that too.

So back to the song: How many rounds of chemo can this Jewish boxer swallow, how many pills can he stand? The answer my friend, is no one really knows, cuz this stuff ain't been out long enough for anyone to be too sure.

It's always up to you, patients; it's always up to you. And the people you ask, and what your doctor tells you, and what your uncle the doctor tells you, and what the rabbi tells you, and what your parents tell you, and what your sister tells you, and what you hear inside, what you hear inside, enough's enough, enough's enough, not because you can't take it anymore cuz you can but because the poison's done all it can now and you have overcome this fucking monster, you hear me? I have overcome you, fucking dead armless grendel, and a decision has been made and on next Monday night instead of beginning to take the poison we will celebrate with Maker's Mark, straight up; we will celebrate with whiskey, god, and love.