Son, that’s an ass whuppin’ you’re just gonna have to take

Drink of Choice: The usual please. And buy one for my good friend at the end of the bar.

I got my most recent injections of Degarelix on Wednesday last as previously noted. Bears repeating that it is working. It is also kicking my ass.

I don’t mind quite as much knowing it is working, but since one of the aims of this blog is to memorialize the experience, without further ado, let’s go.

Day of injection: No problem. Had a great workout that afternoon.

Next day: Thanksgiving day. Went M&P’s, had a great time.

Day Three: Cooked Thanksgiving Dinner for 20. No problem.

Day Four: Got up, cleaned the kitchen (See Day Three). Had a great Lift at the Gym, came home, enjoyed a movie marathon with Phyllis and Jessica, Crapped out early.

Day Five: Rose early enough, did my laundry. Made my way to the train, went downtown,   did some shopping, but. Started feeling disconnected. Made it there and back, but was never quite “There.” If you know what I mean.

Night of day five: “The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors.” Worst night ever. Hot Flashes, if you can call five minutes plus a Flash. Nights Sweats, Night Terrors, generally Freaking out. It was warm; 74°F. Even Frank the Pug was having a rough night. He and I commiserated more than once.

Day Six: Had planned on doing stairs. HAH! I could barely get out of bed and then had trouble finding my way around a 1250 square foot condo. Needed to go to the office but there was no way. I could not trust myself to get behind the wheel of a large automobile. I managed to eek out just enough work from home to keep the wolves at bay. I did something I never do- I ate lunch. Sensible, but still calories. Leftovers. See Day Three. I took a nap. Here’s a twist- I was cold. Needed a blanket. Fucked up shit right there. Twelve hours earlier I would have gladly jumped into Lake Michigan. All 43°F of it. Got up, did a little (very) work and had a few adult beverages, and then a few more; cooked a hamburger or three for dinner and went to bed. Set my alarm (which I rarely do) for 5:00 a.m. I was not going to miss a weight lifting session. Somewhere in the middle my very best Fitbit friend messaged me. She thought I hadn’t synched. I wish. Thanks TL for checking. Just getting my ass kicked. Don’t worry, I’ll apply pressure soon enough.

Day Seven (Today): Alarm woke me at 05:00. Good. All as planned. I got up. Yay. Found my way to the back porch for a square (yah, I know). Said “Fuck It” and went back to bed. Finally got up, against my better judgement, at 07:30. Managed to go to various work sites (after, you know, shaving, getting dressed, etc.). Got home at 14:00 and went to the Gym. I got my Tuesday Lift in- 15 reps, two sets- but man was it hard. Brutal. Gassed after every move. But I did it. Managed to walk home, if only just. And here I am. Exhausted, a bit afraid of the night ahead.

But it is working. As I keep telling myself, and anyone who will listen, it beats dying. And it does. By a country mile. But still, I could have gone my whole life without it. Its just an ass whuppin” I have to take. For 40 more weeks. Thank you Sir, may I have another?

I have two more hurdles to clear. PSA’s need to drop to “Undetectable,” and my next scans need to be clean. If we meet those, the finest corks in the land will be popped. You are welcome to join. 6133 S Greenwood, 3N, Chicago, 60637. I’ll inform you of the date. Hopefully it is soon. Taking Champagne recommendations. My go to is Pol Roger (Sir Winston Churchill’s favorite- how he got it in the middle WW II, I’ll never know).

Until then, tomorrow is another day. I am glad for it and will make the most of it, whatever that might mean. Thanks for reading. Much love. Because, in the end, its all we really have. Everything else is just noise and clutter.