Up to this point this whole experience has been somewhat surreal. I have felt disconnected from the whole thing, even while experiencing all it’s little joys and pleasures. But as 1st of the month rolled around and it became easier to count the days, it has suddenly become very real that a physical disconnection is only a week away.
So what’s bothering him, you say
Loss of the physical manifestation of male sexual identity?
Nope, I’m way past that point and it wasn’t difficult. We are what our mind says we are, not our bodily bits. It’s just a common or garden variety penis.
I haven’t seen it “in the flesh” for a while as I can’t see past my gut (must do something about that) so I wont be able to see it isn’t there. It’s had its days and served me fairly well. Though it has had its own share of traumas.
It was circumcised twice. The midwife in the little town in which it was born botched the first attempt.
My father, being left in charge of the baby one day changed my nappy and complained when mum got home from shopping that I wouldn’t stop crying. As any mum knows, step one, check nappy. The nappy pin was through my foreskin.
But it survived those little setbacks and went on to be impaled on a knitting needle when my sister and I were using my cot as a trampoline after knitting scarves.
Now, innocent as it looks, it is harbouring the means of my untimely destruction. It is apparently extremely rare, which makes a magical mystery tour for all involved. It is a urethral SCC. Rare in women and almost unheard of in men. But the biopsy scar down the side where they finally found the little bastard is visible in the pic. (The pic also reminds me to see about a full Brazilian before I go in for surgery. I don’t want some big beefy wardsman doing it in hospital.)
Penile cancer is a squamous cell carcinoma (SCC) on the outside and clearly visible. In both cases though, a penectomy is the order of the day when the end can’t be nipped off to get rid of it. So while my disease is rare, there is a long history of surgical approach to a “cure”
Fear of dying?
Nope. If I’m in the 1% that dies on the table during this procedure, I’m not going to be aware of it.
Let’s talk about sex then ?
Nope. I am 69 next month and while I am as sexually active as I am able, pickings are slim when not accompanied by an enormous bank account and very low personal values, neither of which I possess.
What is on my mind is recovery from the procedure itself. We are all the product of our life experiences and unfortunately I have had a few pretty uncomfortable ones involving hospitals in the past year or so. I am not worried about whether or not they get the cancer out, I am not worried about being Nilwilly. I am worried about the risks and discomfort of recovery. I’ll save the others up for later if they are needed.