Madre, the lake looks cold today.
Driving along the Lakeshore in a self-imposed exile to allow for breathing space and hot heads to cool.
It is almost two years now since I underwent surgery to have my cancerous prostate removed. As the anniversary approaches, and with the all but certain prognosis of permanent disabilities, I am something of an emotional basket-case at times. Especially in the last while.
It has been some time since I posted to this site and much has gone on. And nothing has gone on. Brooke and I have spent much time working on and travelling the boat. The Mary Mary is in Port Severn now and the debilitating and lengthy Canadian winter is upon us. One of the first snowfalls today, actually. It has stopped now and I’m sitting in a cafe on Queen St., writing a bit and waiting to go to a voice audition around the corner. For an animated series about a baby dinosaur. Sort of tele-tubbies for infant dino-philes, I guess.
The rehabilitation of my prostate area is not going well. There is still dysfunction in all the important areas and it is a constant and dreary drain on my psyche. There is also what seems to be a permanent numbness in a fist-sized chunk of my upper-thigh. I asked the doctor about it at my last post-operative inspection but he had no explanation. Together with the other problems it results in all the usual things you would expect… anxiety, too much drinking, needless arguments and a general malaise that threatens to derail a lot in my life.
(On a side-note, the last time I talked to Dr. Fleshner, he mistakenly thought that I had nerve-replacement type prostate surgery. Whereas actually I had the nerve-‘sparing’ type. Unsuccessfully, apparently. When I mentioned this, he looked dubious and went to consult his records. When he came back he admitted that I was right. An innocent mistake probably, but still…)
I have a lot to be thankful for, of course. Life, a beautiful partner and a boat to float on (sometimes). Still, the other ‘things’ are taking their toll and life isn’t all it should be. Don’t really know what to do about it. Conventional drugs don’t seem to do the trick. At a loss, really.
I suppose if I knew then what I know now and had had a crystal ball, I would have opted for less aggressive treatment. Maybe the radiation route. I don’t know. I was scared at the time and wanted the surest method of eliminating the cancer but…
Well, spilled milk, right?
As the great and wonderful Gilda Radner said… ‘if it’s not one thing it’s another.’ Slowly but surely I am losing teeth. A bridge is going in next week to replace the two in the front that came loose and the one that was pulled beside them. Two and a half hours in the chair next Tuesday. Gotta grin…
Christmas is just around the corner and with it the good and the bad of that particularly anachronistic voyage down memory lane. Remembering the good ones and trying to ensure that this year is one of them.
Brooke and I are having a war of nerves at the moment. As in getting on them. Me getting on hers more, I suspect. She is not physically great herself right now and it looks like the problems that she has been experiencing with pain in her shoulders and arm and occasional dizziness may be down to her having what is called a cervical rib near her neck. That is an ‘extra’ rib that some people are born with that eventually can cause issues as you get older. Anyway, it is treatable with physio but it plays on her much as my problems play on me and that means we occasionally ‘play’ on each other. Since work has been slim for us both we also spend most of our time together. Usually this is fine but, well, you know.
So, a gray day despite the sunshine.