The Prostate Has Been Invaded

Endured the "procedure" yesterday.

Medical euphemisms. Gotta love them.

Got up at 5:00, Carol at 5:30, left the house at 6:45 for the privilege of being reminded of my mortality.

What asshole invented the johnny? I don't believe it was designed for maximum utility. I believe it was designed in part to humiliate patients.

I walk around wearing it proudly now, don't try to hide anything. If they make my ass accessible then they are going to have to look at it. Like Jack Nicholson in "Something's Gotta Give." 

And what about those fucking "slippers" they make you wear? Why can't I just wear my goddamn socks? Had on a perfectly good pair of Dickies socks yesterday. Brand new. Comfortable. Stylish. No holes.

Nope. Gotta wear these ridiculous plastic booties that don't even stay on your feet.

Carol babysat me through the ordeal. As I have babysat her through her ordeals.

It is a comforting thing to have a lifelong partner by your side when you navigate the impersonal atmosphere of a hospital.

I am a terrible patient. I hate feeling vulnerable. I hate doctors. I hate hospitals. I arrive in a bad mood. I am impatient.

I am not rude to people; they are just doing their jobs. I am just not my typical jovial, positive self. 

Carol takes the edge off. She is my ally. She anchors me.

We have been married for 42 years. Been together 44 or 45. 

She has hated me, I have hated her. She has hurt me, I have hurt her. We have experienced very big highs and very low lows. We have also loved each other deeply. That is the nature of a long term relationship. But we have come out the other end of the tunnel reasonably intact.

And it is comforting. She took good care of me. At the hospital and at home.

Anesthesia is the best part of surgery. Shit, man - I love the high I am on when I wake up. It is very subtle. But it feels so good. And it lasts for hours.

I don't smoke much pot anymore because if you get too high you are stuck with it for a while. Nothing you can do about it. I prefer whiskey because you can nurse it along until you are at the perfect level to kill whatever pain you are experiencing. If you feel yourself approaching the edge, you can back off; slow down; manage the high.

Took me a long time to master that approach. I used to swill whiskey until I was too far gone. The only option at that point was to grab a bible, smack Carol across the side of the head with it and then read a few verses aloud.

Things moved quickly yesterday, which is good. I had the same exact procedure done last year and I waited a long fucking time before they wheeled me into surgery. I was quite angry.

Got there yesterday at 7:30. I was in surgery before 8:30. Perfect.

So Dr. Feelgood snipped pieces of my prostate using his roadmap as a guide and then booted me the hell out of there. Kind of. 

I got a cup of coffee and two slices of toast. which was heavenly since I had been fasting since around 10:00 the night before. It was like eating Kobe Beef at a Five Star restaurant.

Nurses made sure everything was OK, then I got booted out.

Got home and have experienced none of the possible evil side effects they describe in the post surgery handout.

I meet with Dr. Feelgood on Monday to review the results.

Ah, the indignities of aging.

They tell me it's better than the alternative.