This Man's Prostate Story

I am in Victoria now staying at one of the Canadian Cancer Society lodges while I receive radiation and pharmaceutical treatment for prostate cancer.

 

The pharmaceutical treatment, and I have been undergoing such for months now while still at home, amounts to anti-androgen drugs to suppress the production of testosterone. 

 

Prior to this I had also already undergone what is known as a TURP. Which stands for Transurethral Re-section of the Prostate and is it’s very own unique experience. Essentially, under anasthesia thank beelzebub,  large sections of the prostate are shredded and then encouraged to be flushed out of the body in order to alleviate the pressure being applied to the urethra and thus allow urine to once again flow. In order to do this a tube with a miniature meat grinder of sorts is inserted up the penis and the prostate is churned into pieces small enough to be urinated out. In order for this to happen a pair of tautly wrapped tubes are inserted after the grinding. One will pump water into the bladder and one will then allow the water to flow out again. And in order for that to happen there are two plastic bags of distilled and purified water are hung from a pole to dribble into the bladder and another will hang over the side of the bed to empty into a bucked for the next 18 hours while you remain in hospital.

 

This happened on June 19^th and on, July 22 I travelled  Victoria to check into the Lodge and on July 23, a Wednesday, I experienced my first radiation treatment.

 

As of today I have 17 more to go. Weekdays only.

 

 

Dry Rot

 

In the '80s The Vancouver Playhouse, under the late Walter Learning, produced Dry Rot, a farce in 3 acts. It takes place in a country inn near a racecourse where there is to be a horse race. Some inept London crooks show up. As does a French jockey who speaks no English. Me. 

 

The set was what you would expect for a country inn on the English countryside. Including a grand staircase with an elbow turn that terminated downstage right. 

 

The piece was directed by the late Ted Follows and I asked him if I could do a controlled stumbling fall down the stairs the only time I came down them. He agreed with the proviso that he could cut it if it didn't really work all that well. So I asked the set designer if the wooden ball atop the newel post at the elbow turn could be replaced with a rubber ball of a similar size. That was done and so my controlled fall included a head bounce off that ball at the mid-point. Whereupon I would gather myself, straighten my jacket and now cautiously resume my descent only to once again stumble down the remaining stairs. Ted never cut it. 

 

And in I think it was the opening scene of the third act when, lights up, the jockey (me) enters the inn down right and to be greeted by the always cheerful buxom barmaid of English country inn legend played here by the wonderful Camille Mitchell who is leaning jauntily against the bar located all the way stage left.

 

The jockey, just inside the door downstage right, asks for "un bois de l'eau" in impeccable French. The barmaid, against the bar stage left, has no idea what he has asked and so he asks again. And again. And again. Eventually he begins a slow pleading near crawl across the bar to get a drink of water.

But one night, as the lights came up and the scene began, I noticed something small and circular lying on the stage about half-way between Camille and I and right in the path I was about to take. It was a much paler colour than the rug it was lying on and I was certain it would be visible to the entire audience. I didn't really know what it was yet but I knew I'd rather not have it there. So as I began my slow pleading progress across the stage I decided to just give it a little flick with my right foot and hope it scooted under the sofa that was there. 

 

Instead it flew a perfect arc to land at Camille's feet. At which point I recognized what it was. As did Camille. It was one of the 'falsies' she wore to bolster the buxom barmaid image. 

 

Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wide with surprise and shock and her hands flew up to her bosoms to feel which of them was now less substantial. The audience howled. And howled some more as she leaned down, picked it up, turned away and stuck it back from whence it had flown. Camille was now bent over the bar top convulsing with laughter and I was doing the best Jack Benny takes I could manage while I quaked with laughter as well. It all must have lasted about 4 or maybe even 5 minutes because when we came offstage the rest of the cast had gathered in the wings to see what had caused the uproar. Then we continued and finished the play. Camille and I got a little extra applause at the curtain calls. 

 

Otherwise it was an entirely forgettable production. About a year later I was in Toronto for the run of Talking Dirty at the Bathurst St Theatre and Ted Follows invited Norman Browning and I (Norman was in Dry Rot as well) for drinks at his pied a terre in Toronto. A whole bunch other actors were there and as often happens stories were told. Ted laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes when I related this one.

My Prostate

 I have prostate cancer. Gleason 7. 

I'm undergoing two different anti-androgen therapies to try and eliminate testosterone from my system and thereby shrink my prostate gland. If that should succeed I may be able to pee on my own and not have to have this catheter anymore. And then I may have some targeted radiation. Which I cannot have here where I live. I would have to spend some time in Victoria. 

If the world survives for another few months. 

Big if.

POTUS

 

 

In my lifetime there have been 15 different presidents of the USA. Seven democrats and seven republicans. One of those republicans was elected president in two different election cycles separated by four years.

 

The first president that actually registered in my young consciousness was Eisenhower, a republican whose first inauguration happened eight days after my fifth birthday. "I like Ike." Then JFK and LBJ, both democrats. Cuba, Dallas and The Civil Rights Act of 1964. Then Nixon and Ford,  republicans. The televised tragedy of the Vietnam war, Watergate, the recognition of Mao’s China  and the infamous pardon. Followed by Carter, the democratic peanut farmer and the Iran hostages fiasco. Then Reagan, another republican whose influence led to the Berlin wall coming down and the first president to be shot since the assassination of JFK in Dallas. George H.W. Bush, Reagan’s vice president came next and the first Iraq war aired in our living rooms. Next up came the democrat Clinton along with an Oval Office sex scandal and the meaning of the most used conjunction in the English language. Then another republican George W. Bush, the second son of the first Bush, the fall of the twin towers and another middle east war but against the wrong foe along with mugging for the camera while attempting to open a locked door. Then America’s first Black president, the democrat Obama, the resulting racist backlash, the vengeance against the architect of the destruction of the twin towers and  the first attempt to lower the costs of health care insurance for Americans. Then followed the first of two White septuagenarians, the first being the republican Trump, who had never before held elected office of any kind and the second being the democrat Biden, who had held some form or other of elected office for 50 years and served as the oldest president in history.

And so we come to today.

The nominal republican Trump is once again president, the second time  in history that a candidate has been elected for another term after losing the office after the first term.

And if he is to be taken at his word he will be the last elected president of the United States of America as he has declared his intention to be dictator.

So far at least the prospect of never again having a presidential election seems not to disturb a great majority of US voters. In fact, the opposite seems to be the case. Many of his most ardent supporters are eager for him to be presidential dictator for life and to then bequeath the office to one of his sons or even, as he has said, to his daughter upon his death.

 

 

 

Turn and Face the Changes

It's time to put some time and thought back into this blog. Much has happened. 

Today my youngest brother, who has lived in Montreal for years and who I have not seen in at least 2decades, chose to die by MAID. He had suffered with advanced Parkinson's disease for years and in the past cuple of years had contracted leukemia.

 I had 3 natural siblings. Now I have 2. 

I now have a Foley catheter which lets my body pass urine since my bladder won't do it voluntarily. In a week or two I will be getting a full body bone scan and a CAT scan to see what else might be going on and a week or so after that I will be undergoing a day surgery procedure to excise a tumour in my bladder and a biopsy sample of my prostate for what my urologist suspects is prostate cancer. 

As I said much has happened. 

I'd want to try and journal my health care journey from here on out. 

We'll see if I can.

The Fat Lady Is Warming Up.

 Humanity isn't going to make it out of this century. There's a fair to middling chance we won't even make it to the halfway point.

Democratic principles and government are being displaced by corporate sponsored neo-fascist authoritarianism as the climate crisis takes hold. The madness to "protect" national borders and ethnic traditions will lead to annihilation programs that will accelerate and devolve into sequences of ethnic cleansing and extravagant violence for its own sake.

Shortages of potable fresh water will lead to stronger nations, like the US, invading smaller weaker neighbouring nations, like Canada being invaded and taken over in order to claim their water. Those shortages will also lead to food crops being booth harder to grow and less nutritious.

Humanity will once again claim its rightful place as the most violent and destructive simian on Earth.

We will no longer be human. 

The only upside is that once and for all the delusions of divinity will be over. 

Orwell Orworse

George Orwell once said "If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever."

 We have reached a significant evolutionary point on the Orwellian spectrum.

Political parties, pretty much worldwide, now fall into two categories. 

There are the parties of the boot.

There are the parties of the face. 

Which do you vote for?