I’m posting old journal entries from more than a decade ago,
neglecting to mention that in the midst of my connection with our poet, I came
down with a seriously enlarged prostate – which had an unfortunate side effect.
I went to a urologist in the Peninsula City, but before I
could get a full evaluation, he had a mental breakdown, and I found myself
unable to pee a night, and unable to hold it back during the day – not to
mention other things I could not do (which apparently explained one of the
issues I had with the poet back then.
The new urologist feared cancer, but after a biopsy, he determined
the prostate was massive, but not malignant. He said surgery might be needed,
but feared that the one problem I had might become a permanent issue if he cut
into the prostate. So, he medicated me – giving me a capsule that helped me pee
at night, and a small blue pill that was supposed to help reduce the size of the
prostate.
For a time, it worked. I could pee at night and could hold
it by day.
Then, in late 2020, I developed a double hernia – which required
immediate surgery – the aftermath of which was total blockage, and the need for
me to wear a bag (I won’t say where the tube had to go that fed the bag) until
I could undergo prostate reduction surgery. For several weeks, I walked around
(covering my beat) while wearing the bag, a few times stopping off at the local
ER so I could empty the bag.
I felt incredibly old and disabled. The surgery apparently
worked, and I no longer needed to take the pee pill, but continued on the small
blue pill that kept the prostate from growing out of control.
In the meantime, my urologist retired, and I started being
treated by his partner. Last week, I got a clean bill of health from him, but I
mentioned that the prescription for the little blue pill at un out – I unfortunately
called it that. He told me there was no problem and sent the prescription to my
pharmacy. When I picked it up last week, I discovered the pill was not small or
blue, but assumed he had prescribed a different version – that was until I
suddenly found myself hobbling around on a third leg. Obviously, what meant as
a little blue pill differed from what I meant – but it apparently what I needed
for more than a decade.
One time after eye surgery years ago, I looked like a pirate
because of the patch I had to wear over one eye. Now I walk like one.
arrr!!!!
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