Drink of Choice: La Guita Manzanilla Sherry. Quite lovely. Dry; crisp apple and almonds up front with lovely citrus notes. Good, dry sherry is worth seeking out. Too often in this country, when we think sherry we think sweet. Not necessarily so.
Flower of Choice: Dutchberry. One of my favorite strains. A Sativa first hybrid (60/40), about 27%THC, 8% CBD for a nice uplifting effect. Great for relaxation, depression, fatigue. I’ll be sad to see this one go.
Well, I just took the last four Appelutamide pills I will ever take. For those of you who don’t remember, Appelutamide is the trial androgen blocker I have been taking for 365 days now in conjunction with 13 injections of Degeralix, a form of chemical castration, every 28 days. My last injections were on 30 August. I’m only an eight- ball away from being a character in a piece by the late Hunter S. Thompson.
And now it is over. Or at least that part is over. The part where I get castrated every four weeks and take, in the words of my Oncologist, “Very Powerful Drugs” every day. Over.
The other part that is over is Prostrate Cancer. Or at least to the best of everyone’s thinking. My PSA’s have been undetectable since December. No PSA’s means no prostrate cells means no prostate cancer cells. That should not change now that treatment is over. This is not to be understated. 20 years ago, the form of cancer I had was almost always fatal. Two, maybe three years from onset. My gratitude cannot be communicated. Only I feel and know it. It is, however, real. I’m a lucky human.
What is not over is dealing with the side effects of the blessed drugs. According to my Urologist, that will take another 12-18 months. Hopefully. And I have some side effects to overcome. They have proven to be cumulative. This past 28 days have been brutal. Nausea, depression, fatigue, anxiety, aching at the extremities, disorientation- the list goes on. Many days they were absolutely debilitating. As in I couldn’t leave the house debilitating. And I have no testicles. Literally. A Nutless Wonder, I have a Change purse in my nethers. Although technically a physical side effect, any male identifying human I know will tell you this takes a toll on one’s psyche. They assure me they will grow back. So the saying, “Grow a pair,” takes on a whole new meaning.
I still am incapable of performing sexually, although there are some encouraging signs. Notably some increased blood flow to the penis. I lost one of the two nerves that make an erection possible to the cancer, so signs of life are welcome. Of course, desire is a different thing and I currently have none. 13 castrations in 12 months will do that. I am also apprehensive about what sex will be like when it does come around (assuming it does- seems like a big If at the moment).
Obviously, I will never ejaculate again. So there’s that. The few times this year I have self- stimulated, in the interest of science, climax is strange. It happens, but it will take some getting used to. I think it is much more akin to a female orgasm. Which makes sense. My plumbing is much more female than male- I piss like a woman and now I cum like one. Still the problem with piss everywhere, although it is improving. Whereas a certain segment of the population might find this a positive, neither Phyllis nor I fall into that camp. If I was 66 or 76 I might not be as worried. I am not. I am 56. Was/ am hoping to have a few more miles in the tank. We’ll see.
(Switching gears to a Nolet Silver Martini. This gin did not fare well in my Martini Challenge of 2017 but is none the less delicious. Key here is no vermouth. It has a very floral, rose petal character that gets run over by the vermouth. Just chilled gin, up, with a twist of lemon).
The psychological side effects- mentioned above- will not go quietly in that good night. They will improve and hopefully fade to black. But not tomorrow. On this front I hang two hopes. My Medical Marijuana Card and a renewed focus on exercise and nutrition.
On the first front, let me say this. Marijuana has been a real life saver for me. There has been a learning curve- still is- but it has made a real, positive difference. My basic routine is Sativas during the day, Hybrids in the evening and Indicas to get me through the night. Sometimes, if the aching at the extremities is intense, I’ll go to an Indica around 13:00 and a nap. If you or a loved one are struck with one of many afflictions, please do not be culture shamed into exploring this as a remedy. It is a blessing. And I hate the word “blessing” but it really is.
On the second front. Play time is over. Stairs. Weights. Fasting. Two days a week. Two days a week alcohol. Low fat, huge fresh vegetable diet, lean protein as well. No carbs, None. Ever. Ever. Not even at Christmas. One of the sources of depression has been my body change through this.I will get it back. I will win this. I. Will.
Friends, thank you so much for reading. It is my hope that you have a better understanding of what it means to have Stage III Prostrate Cancer. It is so much better than recent history would have- treatable, curable, but still with a slew of downsides. It is my hope that I have a better understanding. I think that I do, thanks to this blog.
At the outset of this blog I acknowledged a human tendency to forget that which was hard. I am glad I kept the moment real and alive and, largely, in real time. Cousin Diana promised me a year ago that the ensuing year would go by in a heartbeat. Gladly and sadly, she was right. Gladly because, yes, here we are. Sadly because, yes, there we go.
With much love, gratitude and thanks,
Jay
My Year as a Eunuch 