The Prostate Chronicles: A Medical Memoir

Frankly, most books on prostate cancer are boring and predictable, with an over-emphasis on the medical aspect. This book is irreverent and therefore it is different. It sheds a light on a personal journey and speaks to how relationships matter.
Men generally don't like to speak about their prostate because of its impact on their ego (sex life) and quality of life (incontinence).
Life as they knew it is "over", not acknowledging that their life already sucked thanks to their prostate. As in always asking for an aisle seat near the restroom. As in always looking for the nearest bathroom at events, and of course, not enjoying that favorite cup of joe if a bathroom was more than an hour away.
You do have a number of options when diagnosed with prostate cancer, but frankly, they all suck. Despite numerous downside implications, there is the ultimate outcome that you live to see another 10, 15, or 20 years. Having that definitive end-of-life conversation with my urologist was sobering to say the least.
Whether you are a husband or a significant other, prostate cancer is a steady part of our health lexicon today. If you are lucky enough to live to age 80, you will most likely face it.
I think of prostate cancer as a detour in my life in my late 60s, something I would not have asked for and something that had no A-Z manual.
If you happen to have prostate cancer, you're not totally FUBAR (Fouled Up Beyond All Repair) Ok, maybe a just little bit. At least you won't ever again have to hear your urologist say BOHICA, Bend Over Here It Comes Again!
Ella Wheeler said in her famous poem "Solitude[1]": "Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone."
Prostate cancer sucks, but you stand a better chance coping if you have humor on your side. I'm choosing to take a humorous approach because:
a) it's freaking healthy,
b) why not?
c) because I can.
Frankly, I don't see many options when faced with a cancer that can kill me (worst case), or make my daily life miserable even with proper treatment.
Imagine having to change your incontinence underwear multiple times a day (while at work, or tailgating before the game), Worse yet, having your penis shriveled up like a mushroom cap, never to be rock hard again. Adios, date night!
And in my case, as a diehard Oklahoma Sooner, who wouldn't laugh about an ultrasound rod inserted into my rectal orifice by a Texas Aggie urologist who's also a drilling for cancerous cores on the other side of my rectal wall like he's looking for the next Spindletop?
Now let's move onto the Comedy Zone known as surgery. Here's a laugh.
I imitated a side of beef, hung by my ankles to allow a robot to drill six incisions in my abdomen, extract my cancerous prostate, seminal vesicles, detach my urethra from my bladder, then reattach it inserting a long straw through my penis to allow the bladder to drain for 24 hours.
Now, let's finish the party with a suprapubic catheter (external) piped into the bladder below my navel.
Every single bit of this was conducted by a surgeon on a Xbox Game Boy called Da Vinci, which replaced old school radical surgery gutting me like a 12-point elk being dressed out following the hunt. Imagine surgical repair by a robot. "I'll be back" The Terminator.

Dettagli