My Name Is Bland, James Bland

That's what people are calling the next actor to play James Bond, Daniel Craig. He's in the upcoming Bond movie, Casino Royale, out later this year.

People are in a complete uproar about him taking over, stating he doesn't have the right suave gentlemen look. I think it's simply that people just don't like change. I may agree with he doesn't have the right look, but shouldn't we just wait to see how he does? Ever since Sean Connery moved on, people were outraged with replacements Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton and Pierce Brosnan (I've left one Bond actor out because I can't remember him or any of his movies). There's even a website entirely devoted to calling him the "Double-No 7" and thinks that people should boycott the movie.

If you ask my opinion, I think Pierce Brosnan was the best because he had the right accent and good looks (he coincidentally happened to be the one who played Bond when I became comfortable with my attraction to men).

There's No Place Like Home.

That's for sure. It's tough living with my parents, capital T, to the U, on the double F.

Take for instance yesterday, my first full day back in the States. Tough doctors' appointments, because they showed me clearly that the brain tumor has quickly grown by comparing shots of an MRI done yesterday to one performed at the end of January. And as if I didn't enough daily reminders of what I have, he also said I need to wear a Medic Alert bracelet.

Both my mom and Paul went. And because of the different personalities (my mom tends to just nod at everything the doctors say, while Paul asks many inquisitive and thorough questions), it made my mom feel uncomfortable. She let me know how she felt in an afternoon in a huge brawl-out fest. Inventory taking, mud-slinging, name calling debate, mano a mano. Oh, it was pretty ugly.

Because my parents didn't know what to do, my dad called the pastor of their church and asked him to come over to straighten things up, without telling me in advance. I felt angry and trapped. I didn't have to be there, but I decided it would be best to talk with him since I was living under my parents' roof.

The pastor sided with my mom and dad (no surprise). While he laid into me, I buried my face in a pillow nearby. I couldn't reason with him. Wbile I've got a bachelor's degree, he's got a Ph.D in psychiatry and human behavior. I clearly lost.

I retreated for the rest of the night. Too much for me. I just laid comatose in front of the T.V. for the rest of the night.

Beatings In London

Paul and I are battered and bruised- from exhaustion that is. Not sure why. Our last day in the U.K. was spent mostly back at the hotel watching TV and using the laptop. We were so tired our last night that we ordered room service instead of braving dreary London weather for fish and chips.

All in all, it was a great visit. On our way back home tomorrow.

Mind The Gap

I made it. I'm here in London, flight over was a breeze, no brain emergencies. The only thing alarming is how cold it is here. (Paul's here too. Our initial hug wasn't gushy- he's got a hard body.)

E-mail me at erniedeomampo@yahoo.com if there's a souvenier you'd like me to pick up for you or a friend.

Cheerio!

A Sign At A Busy Office:

kwitchyerbellyakin

It took me a while to figgeritowt, but I fynleegawtet

Riddle Me Again

Q: "What is the difference between George Clooney and Ernie Deomampo?"
A: "Ernie is good looking."

Another answer is that Ernie's appearance in E.R. was this past weekend. I was vomiting and had the worst headache in the world. The doctors did a CT scan, admitted me to the Neurology Center where they pumped me with morphine (yeahhhh) and did blood tests. I stayed overnight. On Sunday, they said there were no new changes in my brain tumors (that's right, two-mores baby!), and ruled my headache as a severe migraine, completely unrelated to what else was going on in my head.

This leads me to my next question.

Q: "Ernie is supposed to go to London this coming weekend for four days. Should he go?"

A: I dunno. I'm kinda' scared that I may get sick on the plane. But I shouldn't live my life in fear, because then I would never make it out of Charlottesville. I'm going to call the doctor and get his opinion today.

Riddle

Q: "What does George Clooney and Ernie Deomampo have in common?"
A: "They were previously in E.R."

Ernie & Paul (2006 Remix)

Old songs get resurrected whenever an ambitious DJ decides to update it by capitalizing on its old charm and adding new rhythms and orchestration. The updated and improved oldie will succeed as long as it brings the crowd of a famous club to the dancefloor.

That's the story of Paul and Ernie. Their previous tune of 10 1/2 years together has taken a new turn as they renew their commitment to each other. But this time, there are new twists: an even smarter Paul who's learned a lot more about himself (with buffer muscles to match) and has moved back to the States, and an Ernie who's learned a lot more about pizza (with softer muscles to match) who has moved in with mom and dad.

I hope these new additions revive their catchy medley.

Failure To Launch

It's a little hard living at home right now. Matthew McConaughey made it look easy and fun, but recently it just ain't that pretty. Mom and Dad are having a hard time with me being gay. All the brain tumor stuff makes them feel I need to have my spiritual life in order, and me being gay is completely against God. My parents are either quite naive or in complete denial, because ever since I moved in with them in October last year, they thought that I had "given that lifestyle up".

I can't "double duty"- it's too hard dealing with my health and on top of that defending my faith in God simultaneously. I told them I felt trapped and wondered whether I should move. They felt bad about what they are putting me through, so they retreated and vowed to not bring it up again, at least for now.

They mean well. I know they do. It's just too much.

We Interrupt This Program...

To tell you a funny joke I heard over the weekend.

"How many boring guys does it take to change a lightbulb?"
"One."

We now return to the program already in progress:

Radiation therapy using "Gamma Knife" does not mean using a "Jumbo-sized Cleaver." It just means the radiation (gamma waves) will slice the tumor up (but no incision is made).

A message to readers who are tired of my health stuff blah blah ramble: I promise you, this will not be a blog solely devoted to my health. There is plenty other stuff renting way too much space in my head.

Verdict:

I have a brain tumor found in less than 1% of people with pituitary brain tumors. In other words, it's incredibly rare. There are approximately only 200 cases of this in the world. Last time the doctor saw a case somewhat similar to mine was, in his words "many, many years ago".

In a couple of weeks, the team of doctors want to begin a two step treatment:
1) Radiation Therapy using Gamma Knife (all the dosage of conventional radiation in a one-time, massive blast)
2) Chemotherapy to begin immediately afterwards

Today's The Day.

I worried last night about what the doctor may say to me today. To hear the words "we'll have to perform another procedure" out of his mouth will send me spinning.

The other thing he could tell me is that we would wait until that MRI scheduled on March 29th in order to determine how fast the brain tumor is growing. I've already waited too long.

It's only 7:25AM (don't pay any attention to the time below) and my appointment is at 3:00PM.

Grandpa

I love my filipino grandpa. He's 88 years old, very alert, and still takes walks despite having bad vision. On Tuesdays, I take him and grandma to a nearby grocery store for Senior Citizen Tuesdays where they get a whopping 5% knocked off their total.

He always dresses very well. Today he wore his new black varsity jacket that I've seen him in before. But as I followed him around store, I noticed the back of it. The team was "Hairy Beavers." Oh Grandpa, if you only knew.

Funny Plate

The other day there was a car in front of me that had the license plate:
PPNWEWE

(grin!)

Is Thatcher Final Answer?

Next Thursday is the day I find out the pathology results. The doctor's office called the other day and said everything is in, they just need me to come in to hear it all myself.

I'm guessing the results will lead to one of these conclusions and my feelings following it:
a) another freakin' brain surgery (No more please. Please.)
b) radiation therapy (which I've had the maximum amount done before, but they think they could raise it)
c) chemo (sigh)
d) nothing now, just an MRI in six months (a highly unlikely result, but it doesn't hurt to be optimistic)

I feel sad as I write this out.