Bye Bye Lance

The Amy Winehouse House was not asked for an official comment on last night’s Oprah interview with Lance Armstrong. But our founder taught us to never wait to be asked. So here goes: We haven’t liked that dopey guy for years. He is arrogant, mean—(such mean little eyes, no?) and now the fool has taken on Oprah. Oh well. Our dear founder (RIP) was a musician and singer and had only great respect for her peers so we couldn’t help shouting at the TV, “Ask Cheryl Crowe!” and “This jerk broke Cheryl Crowe’s heart?” Watching this guy with Oprah can you just imagine what a prick he was in an intimate relationship? Cheryl, you are in a better place. And yes, our dear Amy is too.

For those of you who are new and have not heard about our specialized cancer support center here is a post from 2009 when I created The Amy Winehouse House:

(Love in the Time of Cancer 2009)    

A couple of weeks ago we visited a local support group for people with cancer to see what services or support might be available. The house is lovely and there are many activities, support groups etc. But about 30 minutes into the orientation I picked up the whiff of overriding condescension that accrues around cancer. Part of it is the pastel and pretty approach to surroundings but it’s also apparent in the tone of voice that is used by staff. It’s a cross between the voice you use when talking to a small child and the voice one uses talking to someone with Down’s syndrome or to someone in the midst of a psychotic break. The other hint at condescension is the two-handed handshake: the staff member takes both of your hands in theirs. This is accompanied by the long, deep gaze, which immediately feels like someone told the staff how important it is to make eye contact and that “people with cancer need to be seen.” Well, they are going to make dam sure you know you are seen.

But the greatest tip off to the fact that once you have cancer you’ll never be treated like a competent adult again is revealed in the list of activities offered. At the support center, the counselor told me--with that kindergarten teacher lilt in her voice, “We get together on Thursdays and make smoothies.” Smoothies.  As I told John on the way home, “I have never made a smoothie in my life so why would I make smoothies in someone else’s kitchen with a group of strangers just because you have cancer?”

That smoothie was the turning point for me and it set me to thinking about the kind of cancer support place I’d like to create. Hence the birth of The Amy Winehouse House.  So here are some of the things that are offered at the Amy Winehouse House:

The mission of The Amy Winehouse House is: Fuck Cancer

We believe that cancer and its treatment is fierce and so everything around it should meet that fierceness head on and not back down into pastel prettiness. We don’t coddle and we don’t play word games. We don’t parse “living with” versus “dying from” cancer.

At the Amy Winehouse House we are not nice and not pastel. We don’t believe that having cancer makes you nice or pastel either. If you were a jackass before you got cancer now you are a jackass with cancer. We don’t ask you to share, process, make crafts or drink smoothies. We offer no bookmarks or anything that has or requires a crocheted cover.

All activities at the Amy Winehouse House are optional and include:

Making martinis

Strip poker night

Learning how to hot wire a car

Our book group is currently reading, “Snuff” by Chuck Palahniuk

We have a smoking room ((if you have cancer and are going to die we want you to enjoy a cigarette on us.)

On Saturday nights we have strippers. Yes for girls too.

And we certainly do have drug education.  We think of this as self-chemo. Our role model, Amy Winehouse, was an expert on self-chemo. Our self-chemo classes explain how to smoke crack and how to play the cancer card to score some medical marijuana. Our movie nights include pornography.  (After all, cancer is pornographic so why get all puppyish and pastel about something that is violent and intrusive.)

In future entries I’ll explain the Board of Directors and our policy for volunteers. (We don’t have tee shirts but you do have to wear eyeliner.) We’ll also talk about why we hate Lance Armstrong (We call him “One Ball” around the House.) And, yes, we have bracelets too, but ours say, “Fuck Cancer.”

Live Strong and Wrong

Lance Armstrong has hurt the sport of cycling, and he has hurt the world of professional sports, he has hurt his teammates and fans as well, but there is another group of people that Lance Armstrong has hurt badly: Cancer patients and cancer survivors and all the residents of CancerLand.

Now we know that he misused lots and lots of drugs and hormones and additives and he used suspect medical practices to improve his performance. The testimony is making clear that he also bullied teammates and staff members into participating.

But what about all those yellow bracelets? What about the unbearable hubris of his “I got cancer but I can still win the Tour de France”. What about Live Strong and Lie; Live Strong and Wrong? Live Strong and capitalize on years of testosterone abuse possibly leading to testicular cancer and then capitalizing on that cancer?  What feels the worst is suggesting to other cancer patients that they too can power on and climb cancer’s hills and wear the yellow jersey, but oops forget to mention I abuse my body—and others --mercilessly.

I know this is tricky territory. We’re not supposed to blame the victim in CancerLand. But now we know that all those yellow bracelets bought him so many free passes and so many looks the other way.

I remember feeling sad when Lance and Sheryl Crow broke up. But now I wonder, “What did Sheryl Crow know?” I’m glad she’s out.

And I just gotta say, here at The Amy Winehouse House, we never liked him.

Vulnerability Backlash

Oh the morning after! I’m having a vulnerability attack after reading in public last night. The Arts Center of the Capital Region invited me to read from the new book and from my collection of essays and I talked about this blog and John’s cancer and our relationship, and about “The Amy Winehouse House”.

The best validation was watching the faces of people in the audience that I know are part of Cancer Land—they got it. They know the condescension that accrues around cancer and the pastel politics of treatment speech. But I also worry that I shocked some by calling Lance Armstrong “One Ball”. But really. And now reading today’s New York Times, if “One Ball” turns out to be “I doped my own balls”….what will we do with all those yellow bracelets?

But my overall feeling today is run and hide. I went out in public and read out loud. And now, well, just breathe into it, and wear pink, I guess.

Lance in France

In today’s paper I’m reading about Lance Armstrong’s commitment to race again this year. At 37 he’s an old guy in the bike world but as the sportswriters say he’s racing to win and racing to educate about cancer. He wants to bust the stigma of cancer with the hopes that it leads people to get tested and treatments. It is honorable. (This despite how he is regarded at The Amy Winehouse House.see entries on this blog for 7.20.08 and 9.1.08).

But it’s a mixed bag—so to speak. Lance Armstrong and Live Strong are a powerful message of cancer survival. He is the picture of “Cancer won’t kill you so don’t let it stop you.” But is there an unintended message of “cancer can’t kill you”, when in many cases it can?

Am I just being fearful or negative? Am I mad that some cancers make your life hell but they don’t kill you—not very fast anyway? Some days it feels like everyone has prostate cancer but they grow old with it and other folks—yes I’m taking this very personally—have colon or lung or pancreatic cancer and they die even before they fully digest the news. They don’t get back on the bike. They don’t get to date Cheryl Crow. And they die wearing a yellow wrist band.