As of December, 2022
Back in March or April of this year, my wife Lisa pointed out to me that Todd Lane had lost a lot of weight. I knew he was trying to lose weight, mainly from the sound of stomach gurgling when he was here. But she was right, and I bitched at him till he went to the doctor.
It’s esophageal cancer, stage IV which is a shitty diagnosis to get. The idea is to make the patient as comfortable as possible, and begin treatments.
The good news is his treatments are going well. He’s uncomfortable from them, but not overly sick, and he’s managed to keep what little hair he had to begin with. Those remaining follicles are hardy little buggers.
Here’s why I have hope. It has something to do with Todd Lane’s inherent speed, or rather lack of. Cancer is most dangerous when it’s fast moving. But there’s nothing fast moving about Todd Lane. If you think you’re laid back, you’ve never met him.
Since his cells don’t move the cancer around very quickly, they’re sitting ducks for the noxious chemicals they’re pouring into his system.
The bad news is he’s lost his eyesight. As you know, Todd Lane is a unique individual and he’s picked up a unique syndrome to go along with his cancer. There’s good news there as well. He had the equivalent of an oil slick shot into his eyeball which sounds gruesome as fuck to me. But he does see some shadows now, and it’s hoping that it might bring back some of his vision.
And as the cancer subsides, his vision is likely to return.
That’s all I know. Last time I talked to him he sounded eerily together about it all. I mean there’s nothing you can do but wait and see what happens, and he’s pretty good at that by nature.