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Coming out

January 14, 2013

Sure enough, it would be easy enough, I imagine, to remain closeted with your fears and angst. But I am coming out today, in a general way, from the closet of these secret fears.

I learned a few weeks ago that I have cancer — prostate cancer, so not, some might say, a big whoop. Unless you have it.

prostate gland

The prostate is a walnut-sized gland that aspires, as a friend put it, to be an avocado.

Mine is an early but aggressive form — and demands treatment soon. Otherwise, the oncologist told me (and Gabe and Heidi, who were with me) I’d have maybe five years before insistent symptoms appeared, followed by aggressive therapies and maybe one or two more years of life.

Oh, yes, the shadow falls over the land. My little duchy anyway.

My dad had prostate cancer but not until his early 80s. (Or it was discovered then anyhow.) So I figured, if I were to get it, I would get it at roughly the same time.

Not now. Not now, Lord. (As there are no atheists in foxholes, are there none in the cancer ward?)

But I do get it, sure. Shit, like grace, happens, Lord, lords, God, gods. The Greeks taught us that very well, way back when, pursued by Harpies, Furies, angry Olympians. (And we, we libertarians most of all, think we should be able to do anything, ha! Unchecked by boundaries! Ignorant of our hubris.)

If cancer is shit, then, therapy is grace. As a Libra, I’m compelled to believe in such balances. Honor them. And go on my way, day to day, the way your go about yours.

 

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5 Comments
  1. Avocado Zeck permalink

    Mine is an avocado. Bring chips!

    • Yes, that damned prostate: the size of a walnut but aspires to avocado. Not to worry, you might have a pineapple before too long. Think tropical fruit!

  2. Avocado Zeck permalink

    Mine, no longer aspiring, has reached the size of a grapefruit. What shall become of my faithful squirter? Being an elder may afford me the luxury of outliving my grapefruit? Or Dr, Longfinger may want a new mercedes to ferry his wench about town? But, be done with these worries; admit that your are not your prostate: you are a human being!

  3. Dear Dr Grapefruit, you should swagger with your load down life’s road. What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world (which has been likened to a grapefruit) but lose the advantage of his swagger? Think nuts! Think the cat’s pajamas!

  4. Avocado Zeck permalink

    Swaggering into your mail box, a little wager: who lives longer? Dr. Grapefruit, Grapocado Prostrato, or Avocado Zeck?

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