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Fred and the Amazing Technicolor Crotch

May 26, 2012

Waking up in my own bed after surgery is like surviving a knife fight. The incision looks like a smile of melted plastic. And the bruise spreads. The blood has nowhere to go, so the shaft of my penis widens, and when I walk it actually bangs against the sides of my legs (It makes me feel like a gorilla on the prowl.). My luck, instead of length I get width. And the shaft is purple. So it’s like having your penis replaced my an eggplant. I guess you can say I’ve gone organic.

Someone mentioned they were looking forward to a weekend. Since I was diagnosed with cancer and went through the tests and the biopsies and the scans and the blood draws and the chemo and the white blood cell shots and the blood transfusions and the medications, my life has just been one long day. There are no Tuesdays, Fridays. Just one long day. The only number I see is 25. That’s the day in June when I get a scan to determine is the tumor is alive and growing again or dead. Then it’s just another long day for the next clearance day. The good thing is it’s a long day with a lot of sunrises and sunsets.

Sometimes I get out of the shower and I don’t want to look at the mirror. It’s like being wounded by the unknown. A creature that scratched me. Other times I feel a little noirish and look at myself. The head with a pepper sprinkle of hair, the slight bump above my collar bone where the medical port was implanted, and the cut above my bruised groin. And I think, man, what a journey. Who’d ever think this was part of my luggage on the trip? I groan a little and sigh and get dressed. In the kitchen are the cats, and I reach down and pet them, imagining each pet is also reducing my tumor. All I can do is infuse my life into the tumor to kill it. I go outside and see the vines I planted, they are all reaching up toward the sun. The ones near the shade have twisted themselves out from the darkness in the direction of the sun. I smile and think that’s what I have to keep doing thorough out this long day: never give in to the shade and go for an even tan of survival.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Linda Walton permalink
    May 27, 2012 6:13 am

    Hey Fred…I don’t know just what to say, other than I’m glad to be able
    to read about your last few days. You sound very good to me.
    Love,
    Lindo

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