My Year as a Eunuch

Fair warning. This blog contains coarse, graphic language. I like to use all the words, and the subject matter revolves around the male nether bits. Proceed at your own peril. You’ve been warned so no bitching. None.

On May 8th, 2017, I was diagnosed with Prostrate Cancer. Gleason score of 9, Stage II (Google it). On June 14th I had a Robot Assisted Laparoscopic Prostatectomy (Ibid). Biopsy of tissue showed evidence of spread in the pelvic region. Now I am Stage III. Also lost one of the two nerves that make an erection possible so I have a 30% chance over the next two years of having an erection.Wish me luck. Better still, wish my wife Good Luck.

Six weeks after surgery my PSA’s were 2.26- high for a guy with no Prostrate. Six weeks later- this week- they are almost at 6. More than doubling in 43 days.

There is, however, some good news. I recently had a Pelvic MRI- in which they shove the world’s Largest Turkey Baster up your arse, wrong end up- as well as a Prostate specific PET scan. Both showed no signs of metastatic spread. So I have Cancer Cells- and lots of them- but no cancer.

Which brings us to here. We have decided (finally) on a course of treatment. I am going to be part of a Clinical Trial that consists of a 12 month course of “Androgen Deprivation Therapy.” In layman’s terms- Chemical Castration. The purpose of the drugs is to eliminate testosterone.  Thus the title, “My Year as a Eunuch.” A regular Varys, but without the little birds.

Which brings us to this paragraph. The last several months have been hell for me and my family. The waiting, the not knowing; pure agony. But what happens, once you get some good news, is that you tend to forget how hard each day- sometimes each hour- was to endure. Most days it was all I could do to make it to Four o’clock which has become Martini hour. I’d have one, make another, and head off to the World’s Greatest Shower, having pissed my diapers full all day. Even though that was so recent, my memories of it have faded- a human survival mechanism. We don’t remember the details of pain we have endured. If we did the memory alone would kill us. Would me. So there are many nuances of my existence since I was diagnosed that have gone by the wayside. Not this time. Why for this Blog. I intend it to be a raw, real time capture of the emotional, physical  and psychological aspects of The Treatment. I do not want the benefit of Hind sight or acceptance. I am going to post how I feel emotionally and physically on a daily basis. I will use “All the Words.” Again, you’ve been warned.

Its is going to be a wild ride. I might grow tits. I will have Hot Flashes. I will not have sex nor will I want to. I might join the Boys Choir. It will not make me Gay- that would be an Upgrade and I don’t have the Frequent Flyer Miles to qualify.

So friends, grab a  hand and come long. When the going gets weird, the weird get going. Here I come.