My nuts don't define who I am. I'm a very, very sad man. A very, very sad man. I just want to live. But it saddens me that I have to live with this... this cancer. A malformed growth of cells. And it's me. I am... that malformed growth of cells... I'm just a walking pile of bacteria! I want to live though; there are things that I have loved, and those things that I have loved, and the things that they've loved, it's a microbiome of love. I want to live. I want to breathe. I want to see another day and experience the joy of life, television, reality television and the Harlem Globetrotters. I believe in me, even if no one else does.
I may lose my testicles, my arms, my legs, and eventually my brain. But I will never lose my heart. My heart that pumps blood and feels emotions and has emotions and, emotions. I believe in me. I am a shooting star, not a pile of writhing chromosomes, I am a man, even without my nuts I am a man, and I choose to live. Why do you think cartoon hearts look nothing like actual hearts? It's because our capacity to love extends far beyond atrial chambers and blue, veiny veins. I will live, I will breathe another day, even if I die I die, but my head... Spacely sprockets and broken glass. My head... my head! What about all those people that got decapitated throughout history?All those people without heads! I refuse to let cancer define my life, I may have physical cancer... but I don't have cancer of the soul.
Hi sad, sad man
I'm Phil. AKA, anxious, anxious man. Formerly, Mr positive and I'm gonna kick cancer's arse. I started chemo today. It's crappy.
Just reading back through older posts, prior to me joining. I have not read a post like this one. I can feel your pain. You write like a poet.
I can't help your loneliness and your cancer treatment. Would it help if I challenged you to a dark poetry contest? I offer you a verse from a song I wrote. Alas, it's not about having cancer. It's a reflection on my marriage break up.
I've been better off.
There's been times when I've been in control.
I had a soul, but when it left me?
I just can't recall,
It didn't like me anyway.
No wonder why it wouldn't stay.
Hang in there.
The penis is a funny thing.
Dangling between the legs like some kind of primitive war club.
Someone who loses any part of themselves has to find ways to adjust, and it must be hard. I'd argue that alongside the physical, tangible parts of ourselves, like our arms, limbs, doodle - cancer can extract important spiritual pieces as well - things like sense-of-place, hope, connectedness.
Living without a former piece of yourself .. pretty hard thing to face.
But the penis - it's especially weird, I reckon.
We as a society almost NEVER talk about our penises. I feel already that I've said penis maybe 5 times too many in this post. Penis. Penis. Penis. But we almost NEVER talk about them on a day-to-day level.
YET .. at a big picture society level, we obsessively acknowledge them - we design cars and buildings with unconscious or subconscious phallic influence, when we talk to a lady we look from her eyes to her mouth to her boobs, when we talk to a man we look from his face to his tackle-box and back. When we stand at a urinal we take a moment to focus our gaze intently FORWARD because we don't want to accidentally glance sideways and look at someone else's dick.
Penises are supremely weird and powerful things. (To be fair, so also is the amazing, mystical Vagina).
To have lost yours ... in my mind ... it's like a back-handed gift from God, mate.
Consider all the effort, time, energy, lies and misdirection, games and falsehoods that orbit around the ole pork sausage. If I showed you a photo of two piles of mashed potato and a pork sausage down the middle, you'd have to struggle not to roll your eyes (or supress an adolescent giggle).
I think being without a penis, it's a chance to redefine a new, monastic you.
I know that might read as cold comfort, but I genuinely believe that in some ways being without a penis would actually be a liberating thing. Mine has led me bad places most of my life. In fact, my tonsil cancer was HPV+, and I think that the ultimate root cause (pun intended) might have been from .. well, as ACDC said it .. 'dirty deeds done dirt cheep'
I'm sorry for your loss, I truly sympathise. It's good you're still alive. I hope that being penis-less isn't as bad and as hard as I imagine it probably would be. And I hope that, in some ways, there are unexpected positives.
My personal favourite penis-less character in popular fiction is that bald chap in Game of Thrones, I can't remember exactly, his name is something like Varys, the Master of Whispers (a kinda royal spy-master). Very conniving but ultimately altruistic type of person. Actually come to think of it, he may also have echoed that sentiment that being without a penis has helped him to engage the world in ways he never would have discovered otherwise.
Anyway sorry for randomly remarking on your life, best of luck, be well.
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