When I saw David last week he said, “everybody in town is talking about your prostate.” Why shouldn’t they be? Most of them have played with it.
I did not want to turn my blog into a cancer gazette. Since the word is out, however, the hectoring for more details has started. I owe at least one follow-up.
Today I visited the land of a thousand turbans, the Kaiser Radiation Center. I discussed treatment options with the urologist.
The hour long appointment started out awkwardly. As he went into his spiel his eyes were on the ceiling. Occasionally he’d glance at me but then he’d go back to counting the pinpoints in the tiles as he talked. When he got to the Gleason score I put my foot down.
His explanation was one only a comedian like Jackie could appreciate. There are 3:4’s that are sometimes referred to as 3+4’s. These are not to be confused with 4:3’s (no mention if there was a corresponding 4+3 or maybe 4-3.) Although they both add up to seven there are good sevens and bad sevens. What you have to do is factor in…..
I asked him to please stop. I told him I felt like the victim of a shell game, never in a million years could I follow him or guess the right answer. Which may have been his point, neither could he.
After that exchange we saw eye-to-eye and the options became clearer. Everything about my case is borderline (including sanity). It’s acceptable to watch and monitor. If or when things become worse, the less invasive form of radiation would be the initial treatment.
He said the drawback to this approach is that after a couple of years of having a blood test every three months, it gets to be a drag and guys stopped following up. I assured him the choice between a life of pissing and shitting myself and not being able to get it up versus the ennui of a quarterly blood draw was enough to motivate me.
In addition to the early stages of cancer I have strains of other things coursing through my body. Namely personal vanity. To support one of his arguments the doctor said, “but we usually see this in guys much older than you, in their late 60’s.” You can’t get any later than 69.
I really do need to lay off the Estee Lauder Anti-Aging Emulsion. It’s complicating treatment protocols.
To occupy my time with all this going on I did what I do best. I took on a project that I have no experience with or talent for: sewing pillow covers.
For over a year I’ve coveted this remarkable French mirrored vinyl from Mood Fabrics. I was never quite sure of what I’d do with it and at almost $50 a yard it was too pricey to experiment with.
Then in June it showed up at my discount fabric outlet for $23. Jesus spoke to me: “pull the trigger, motherfucker, shit or get off the pot.”
I went online and assembled the foam, pillow protector, and interfacing. They are all of the finest quality from China’s Amazon Province. Then I went up to Cliff’s to buy the metallic thread.
There’s been a learning curve. Things like you can’t sew the gussets together if you expect the pillow to slide in. But I’m getting there.
Normally I would wait to show the finished result. But I wanted to document that I have not been sitting idly by while waiting on the Obamacare Death Panel, The Hon. Sarah Palin, Regional Chair, to rule on my case.
4 thoughts on “A Tear in Every Room”
Hmmm. I dont feel you answered all of our questions.
Is that ever possible?
David was only partially correct. Eric arrived last night and now Boston is also abuzz with talk of your prostate. The only difference is no one here has ever played with it. Perhaps you should contemplate a world tour before it is excised?
How do you know? Where do you think I’ve been when I get lost on those “long walks.”