Yesterday, the 5th of July was the second anniversary of my big chop.
It’s funny I had pretty much forgotten in the week leading up to it. I should now be considered a successful statistic.
My anniversary coincided with the easing of the big lockdown. Lots of footage of the pubs full and overflowing. Having known a couple of people that have died of COVID 19 and a couple of friends that had contracted it, I will resist the urge to go and get a portion for myself all because of a Malibu and Coke. The two guys that I know contracted it, and survived, are still suffering the side effects long afterward.
This is now the stage when it gets as good as it gets after the radical operation. Its apparently at the two-year stage that whatever side-effects you still have are not likely to get any better. If I still had any incontinence, then without surgical intervention, I would likely remain that way. I was in the supermarket yesterday and while walking past the pharmacy section I saw the men’s ‘trouser liners’.
Now that’s a nice PC way of putting it, in its fancy happy packaging.
I smiled while I reminisced, not always fondly but thankfully on my experience with them. Just the other day on the television they were saying that all the public toilets have been closed. That along with the fast-food shops also closed must be horrific for those that have to venture out, with any kind of incontinence issue, for any extended length of time.
Thankfully, the King is not asleep. If the King was still docile now, I would know that he wouldn’t be retaking his crown. The heavier crown will have to be for the younger royal dudes. I am not partying now like when I was forty-nine years old but when I was forty-nine I wasn’t partying like I was thirty either. The all-night partying has long gone and been replaced by a nice cup of tea, Häagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream, and an early night.
Still, a lot to be thankful for.
The only other constant reminder is the pelvic floor exercises that I have to perform three times a day and will continue to do for the rest of my life.
Speaking of the easing of the lockdown, I have seen the queues outside some non-food shops. I have never seen queues outside barbers shops before. Like most men, I will be relishing a trip to see my barber. However, I am not going to wait an hour or so outside on the pavement for the privilege. For the last 14 weeks, I have cut my own hair, with varying degrees of success, cuts, and patches. Safe in the knowledge that only my kids will point out all the uneven parts and the shape of my head.
And they did so with joy and gusto. Over and over again.
I could venture out, with my mask, safe in the knowledge of my anonymity and everyone’s rush to get home. Now its time to get some professional help.
Just like everyone, in the lockdown, I have missed getting out and about meeting friends and family. Pops is thankfully as stubborn as a mule when it comes to his health. He has survived COVID 19 and even with the rest of his ailments, he is still managing the dialysis three times a week. I still have yet to talk to him personally since our last conversation before lockdown but his wife is keeping us updated.
The last time that I did a prostate cancer talk was way back in February and I miss them.
The news is full of how those diagnosed with cancer have had their treatments postponed. However, in keeping with the new virtual world, I will be delivering my first virtual prostate cancer talk either at the end of this month or in early August. I am really looking forward to it.
Onward and upward.
No pun intended but happy to be able to say those words, in more ways than one.
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