... quality versus quantity - the other "Q" word

As stated in other blogs, I was raised to expect to have cancer in my lifetime. And probably not live  that long. Which is probably why I am in my financial mess because I expected to be dead by now. As per my parent's thoughts on the matter - my death by cancer (liver / testicular / prostate / melanoma)  or  me being murdered - incarcerated - homeless (all due to being a gay man). It was not a supportive family. They finally accepted me late in their lives, just before they had to receive judgment by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. A little too little - a little too late for redemption.

.....

 When I was first diagnosed with prostate cancer the immediate response was "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!" And once I got my breath back, I started to question the test results.
I did research on what my best options would be even though I had already signed on for a radical prostatectomy in about 4 weeks after diagnosis.

I was told by the doctor that 50% of the gland was cancerous (it was only 5% as per the pathology report after the surgery). Location of the cancer is an important factor. A main aspect was whether or not it was contained within the prostate gland or already escaped and metastized, ready to find a new home (usually the bones) to wreck havoc.
On one side of the gland a bunch of little cancer clusters were growing. And on the other lobe, a larger clump was near the edge, ready to jump ship. 


With the operation date quickly approaching I sought out support and found very little of it. The local support groups were mostly conservative older men (in their 70's) with prostate issues, incontinence, and wives. As a gay man with a platonic male husband, we certainly did not fit it. Even on the internet, support for gay men and their issues seemed to be restricted to closet-case bisexuals who were only interested in being able to perform as before with their boyfriends behind their wives' back. They were not concerned about other health issues other than the sex act.

 .....

When the dust has settled and the wounds have healed, what are you left with. It's hard to tell at times what remains of the old you.

It took about 16 weeks to finally start getting control of my bladder, so I could feel part human again. Not as in infant in a guard or diaper, or being the old bedridden man waiting for the nurse to change the bedding due to an accident.
Prior to that moment, I would lose all the fluid in my bladder simply by standing up.  Even with a heavy duty pee pad, I would often have to change my clothing in a public washroom (extra pants, pad and underwear in a carry bag). I was at the point of ordering an external catheter when the start of controlling my incontinence finally kicked in.

In my twenties and thirties I was proud of my sexuality and constantly trying to prove my masculinity to myself and would enjoy intimacy with others. It made me feel male.
In the 40's things were fine but my interests were changing  and by the time the fifties hit, there were difficulties on the intimacy homefront. Some of that was probably due to the decline of the prostate as it ages, complicated by decline in the relationship with my husband/spouse.
I was aware that the prostate cancer surgery would affect a change in appearance of my manhood.  But not to the extent of the results. It was a truly emasculating event with what happened. As per my research, I found out that "use it or lose it" is a very true and honest phrase that has to be heeded if you want to have any sense of pride of sexual self. That devastating effect is often made worse if the person has to later on undergo salvage radiation treatment.
What I ended up with was being an impotent, non-ejaculating, non-climaxing, small manhood of a person. And for a gay man who's society gauges most of their existence on physical appearance, prowess, and performance - I was striking out in all categories. I did not exist as a gay male.

 .....

Was it worth the battle?

Five years after the fact and I am still here. I have gone through depression, fear, anger, dealt with  suicidal thoughts and even guilt and pity. The silliest one was pity. What did I do to deserve this. Did I have too much sex. Too little sex. My diet. My religion. My faith or lack of faith in believing I would have a long life. Just before my diagnosis I would have a reoccurring dream in which I would tell my husband/spouse, "Hey Steve! You won the lottery!" ... and when diagnosed that is what I thought. He won the lottery. I was going to die on the operating table (bring in the lawyers) and he would be able to pay his bills from my insurance. Well, that didn't happen. I am still here. I still have bills. And I don't remember if I have our lawyer's phone number anymore.

 .....

What was lost and what was won.

The driving force of my internal clock that pushed me time and time again to prove myself. To try to better myself, to be the person I thought I wanted to be got lost. Or maybe it was never there and just an illusion. Anger and despression was still there. That was not cut out. Being tied to finding out the location of roadside coffee shops or restaurants just to be able to use their washrooms so I don't have an accident and leak, is demeaning. The frustration of seeing people you were once attracted to (and them you) being out of reach since nothing of your intimate side works again and you have nothing to offer. It even felt useless and fake to even try to flirt. What was the point.

 .....

Is the "new normal" acceptable or just accepted. You have no other choice now.
I guess I just accept it. The adventures of the past seem like distant memories now. I am coping with my incontinence and trying to remember to do my kegel exercises to maintain the muscles down there. I am accepting the various sides of my personality - the masculine and feminine. I don't have anything to prove anymore. I am doing my best trying to just be me.

 .....

Is the "new you" better off than the "old you" (pre-treatment).

How do you balance off the aspect of simple existence. You did not become radioactive due to the treatments and turn into The Hulk™ every time you stub your toe. What was needed to be done was done.

You did not change your gender due to the medicine to reduce your testosterone which could have fed your cancer. The internal changes and acceptance of self opened up a new world to explore.

You did not stop loving your spouse because you could not have sex the way you used to. In a manner of speaking the relationship became more honest and open.
You did not become lesser of a man even though your manhood was reduced in size by treatment. There was a change in what was important in life. And what was not.

You did not embrace death but faced it.

You did not conquer death but postponed it, a little bit longer, so you could embrace life and its wonderful mystery of existence.

.....

.....