Prostateless in Hightstown!

I'm back. And missing a part. But what I've lost in pleasure centers, I've gained in incontinence.

Look, the cancer is mostly gone and that's what really matters. Right? Right. The surgery was a success, by any standards and I've got about a month off to sooth my ruffled feathers and to tighten up my boy-pussy so I won't piss myself every time I sneeze.

More to follow on my escapades in hospital (with a special, surprise guest -- my EX, who showed up unannounced, unbidden and mostly unwelcome, at my bedside), but for now suffice it to say I am well, I am happy and life goes on.

With time to kill I, naturally, spend hours every day surfing the nether-regions of the internets. Today I want to share with you my new, absolutely favorite, sleazy website, Awkward Family Photos dot.com [click HERE to visit the site]

And here's my selection from that site for today. Notice how prepared Jennifer is for Christmas. Only problem? It's October!

Dr. Digit

I've been waiting weeks for my annual date with Dr. Digit aka my urologist. I saw him tonight, after I was finally released from jury duty for another couple of years.

He looked at the latest x-rays of my kidney stones and told me how they haven't changed much in the last year.

He then crammed a well-lubed finger someplace where I've only let several (thousand) other men place well-lubed things, but it's been a long time and, oh God, I'm so lonely...

But I digress. He announced that I have the prostate of a 20 year old. No, he didn't tell me to give it back because I was getting it all wrinkled.

But he dropped the PSA bomb on me today. A PSA test is a preliminary blood test for prostate cancer. Apparently, he saw the results of one I had last year, before my annual visit then.

He may have mentioned something about a slightly elevated PSA at the time, but it was a busy year, what with diabetes and everything, so I probably let it slip my mind that he wanted a follow-up reading in January. I didn't do it.

I did have some blood work done last weekend, in anticipation of my upcoming annual physical, at the end of July. I'm sure my internist ordered up a PSA test as part of that battery. It's pretty standard for men over 50 during their yearly physical.

It would be very easy to become alarmed about this. If I were in a relationship with somebody, it would probably scare the hell out of me.

And that reminded me of my ex. His internist told him, in 1992, that he had an elevated PSA. One test led to another and in no time, he was having his prostate removed. I'm sure it scared the shit out of him. He kept things to himself. For weeks he thought he was HIV positive, and kept it to himself. All of a sudden we were using condoms, after 15 years of a so-called monogamous relationship. I thought it was odd, but then, he was pretty odd. It was only two months later that he found out that those unusual corpuscles in his urine weren't because of HIV. He found out that it was merely prostate cancer, instead. I stayed with him all through that, including a recovery that included having to learn how to inject himself with chemicals in order to achieve an erection again.

Today I have a new compassion for people who live in fear. I know what it means to live in fear. I lived there for decades. Only in recovery have I learned how to put fear in it's proper place. 90% of my groundless fears are just that... groundless.

So, I could turn to the dark side of my self-centered, fear-based mind right now, and project a worst-case scenario of being riddled with bone cancer by Christmas and dead within a year (unlikely), or I can just sit tight, go about my life and wait for the results of the blood work.

Meanwhile, I'll focus on the good things in my life. Like friends. And family. Hell, even doctors (I have some really good ones!).

And no matter what happens I will have complete faith that it's part of some plan by someone or something greater than myself... and that it's nothing I need to drink over.

WARNING! CRAZY PERSON AHEAD!!! (Subject: Real Estate)

I'm nearly 59 and I've never owned a home... well, not for long at any rate. I did inherit a house from my Grandmother when I was 20, but I sold it and blew through that money in my first year in college (it was about $4 grand).

Later I, technically, owned my mom's house, but I had to sell it in order to bankrupt her to pay for the first three years of her nursing home stay while she was slowly dying of alzheimer's.

I did once suggest to my ex, in 1988 or so, that I "buy into" the co-op that he owned, in which we both had lived since 1980, but he said absolutely no to that. (smart man!) He'd bought it for about $45,000 in 1977. It was easily worth two hundred thou in '88, and I'm sure it's worth a million today. Nothing special, either. Just a two bedroom in a landmark building, 24-hour doormen, on-site super. God, I could kill myself.

I recently made up my mind to finally buy a home of my own. Not a house, that would be too much for me to cope with, but a condo or a townhome nearby to where I live now.

It has raised all kinds of fears and hobgoblins for me. What, exactly, is it that I'm afraid of?

1. Permanency. What the heck is that? I've spent my whole life living in a state of perpetual fear (yes, from childhood on), and have always, always, ALWAYS, lived someplace where I was either the star border or merely a tolerated guest (including childhood homes and those 15 years with my ex in HIS apartment... as he was so often fond of pointing out to me).

2. A big-assed loan for a thousand years. You've got to be kidding me, right? I can't "owe" anybody that much money for that long! What if I want to hit the road tomorrow?!

3. A sense of belonging. But what if (as it surely will) something better comes along next week?? I'll have the biggest case of "buyer's regret" there ever, ever, ever was. Nobody will ever have had a bigger case of buyer's regret than mine! Ever!! So there!!!!

4. I can't afford this!!! What I really mean is, I'll have to give up having a lot of cash on hand and suddenly go from cash rich/equity poor to it's polar opposite. What if I can't, suddenly, decide to fly off to Europe next week??!!! (not that I have ever done that, mind you, but just in case -- I like to keep my options open!)

5. Money pit. Hah! With my luck, the day after I move in, I'll need all new appliances (not that I won't need them anyway in a year or so. After all, I really need a stainless steel Sub-Zero refrigerator, a Kitchen Aid dishwasher and a Garland range. Doesn't everyone?)

5. Lack of options. It may look like a home to you, but it sure looks like a ball and chain to me!

6. I don't deserve it. Deep down inside, I know I'm not worthy to have a nice place to call my own.

7. Will somebody please tell the demons between my ears to shut up?

As you can clearly see from above, just because the monkey is off my back doesn't necessarily mean that the circus has left town. There's still a 3-ring, all-star show going on in my head at all times.

And I've only just started.

So be forewarned. There's likely to be months of me processing, out-loud, in type, about this, so you might want to start web-site hopping now.

God help me. And you.