CANCER, ORGASM, & MURDEROUSLY GOOD MUSIC

CANCER, ORGASM, & MURDEROUSLY GOOD MUSIC

HEALTH

As some of you may recall, early on in this blog I addressed the topic of radioimmunotherapy (see Ann Arbor Observer article ‘Saving a Cure’ by Eve Silberman, March 2008). Much of what I wrote concerned the promise this alternative to the traditional R-C.H.O.P. treatment held for non-Hodgkins lymphoma patients (see radioimmunotherapy post 7/18/7). Along the way, I questioned the drug companies’ contention that Bexxar (and Zevalin), the key drugs used in radioimmunotherapy, were more expensive than the standard Rituximab (the R. in R-C.H.O.P) treatment (see “Chemo Gangsters” post 8/16/07).

The subject of “Chemo Gangsters” has to do with the rapacious nature of the drug companies, and how the doctors, wittingly, or unwittingly, foster a climate of consumptive profiteering in a medical setting that serves as a conduit for the cash that lines the pockets of the health industry’s fattest cats. Consider the drug, Kytril. Granisetron hydrochloride, trade name Kytril, made by GlaxoSmithKline, works by blocking chemicals in the body that may cause nausea and vomiting.

Going through my 2007 medical receipts, I noticed that rather than the standard $7.00, the Kytril co-pay was $22.00. Hmm…why? I then called CVS pharmacy and asked how much 20 Kytril would cost if I didn’t have insurance: the price, $1458.00. Not coincidentally, on 11/08/06, Glaxo paid $70 million to settle a number of civil lawsuits filled in the U.S., which accused the company of price-fixing.

Here’s my point. Since Kytril is prescribed as a prophylactic measure to counter nausea, one can never be sure whether they need it or not. The fact that it is prescribed at the outset of the chemotherapy ensures that it will be taken throughout the infusion regimen. In my case, I only filled it once. After taking it for the first two days, I decided to see if I really needed it. I didn’t, and as it turned out, nausea was never a problem for me through six rounds of chemo. Those, however, who take it as prescribed, regardless of whether they need it or not, contribute mightily to the profits of the drug companies. After all, for the insured, the costs are minimal.

You might ask, doesn’t the insurance company, then, take the bite? That’s where the higher co-pay comes in. As conspiratorial as it may sound, the co-pay reflects an amount that the health providers and drug companies have agreed on to make it profitable for all involved, except the insured who struggle with the co-pay, and, of course, the 45 million uninsured who can’t afford the $1458.00 per script.

ORGASM

“Sex seems to obliterate language, and [language] is merely a kind of foreplay that terminates in the grammarless grunt of orgasm. During orgasm there is no linguistic or cultural identity, no sexual orientation, no above or below, no method or means; there is only stupendous arrival in the infinitely enduring present indicative where time is demolished and the self becomes a contained universe. Because procreation is orgasm’s primary task, it isn’t speech and sex but pleasure and sex that are engaged teleologically. If man were capable of indefinitely prolonging the sex act, he would, and we would still be waiting for the birth of syntax and the invention of the wheel.”

Harpers, (May 08) Letters, Robert Lewis, Longueuil, Quebec

MUSIC

Many thanks to Les B. for the cool 70’s “Incognito” jams. Incognito was a jazz leaning fusion band that predominately featured original tunes by Les and R.J.. Les is an accomplished saxophone and clarinet player, as well as a highly original composer. R.J.'s link is on this site. R.J. is that rare thing in today’s world, a renaissance man. He can play the guitar, all woodwinds, and is an amazing guitar player. He is also a thoughtful human being, articulate, kind and understanding. The world-renowned Perry Robinson (google him), perennial winner of the Downbeat Poll for best clarinetist, and way cool Manhattan beatnik hippie world bizzarro, is on clarinet. These particular Hamburg sessions sound like a mix of Sun Ra, Pee Wee Russell, Hendrix, and Bitches Brew Miles. I know I’m name-dropping, but that’s how I’d describe it -- funky, out fusion. This is all fine and good, but as you know, there’s gotta be a hook, something where the reader goes wow, and as Paul Harvey would say, “Now, you know the rest of the story.” So, here tis!

The drummer was killer Biaggio, full name Delwin Biaggio. Delwin, while not a rock drummer (think Ben Riley and Rashid Ali), excelled at celestially spacey new age jazzy world beats. Whew! Delwin lived a sort of a double life, but instead of time being the distinguishing factor in when he acted a certain way, gender was. This guy I knew to be a mystical, eastern leaning, incense burning, guru-peddling swami was an ultra-violent misogynistic domestic abuser when he put the chapati down.

Thus it was, Delwin, whose real job was reading and writing computer code, shot his girlfriend in a jealous fit of silicone valley rage, put her chopped up body in the trunk of her car, and parked it on a downtown San Francisco street. It was a sensational story up and down the California coast. The girlfriend was reported missing after leaving for work from her Marin county apartment. San Francisco police found her body eight days after her death in the trunk of her 1973 Mercedes, parked in the South of Market warehouse district. Before being dismembered, she had been shot in the head and chest. The Police Chief said that investigators had enough evidence to prove that Delwin shot her in his kitchen the day she disappeared. Evidence included a spent bullet detectives found inside Delwin’s washing machine, as well as blood splatters that matched the victim’s type. Interestingly, investigators at the time called it a “1990s-style murder case.” The 6 months of e-mail exchanges gave the detectives a new kind of insight into the relationship—insight that was previously unavailable in an age when few people write personal letters and police are forced to rely on hearsay. The lead investigator said, “What we had was a very classic love relationship that turned sour—he wanted to continue it, but she didn’t and he killed her, triggered by learning about another man.”

The jams sound good. Thanks Les!