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Showing posts from 2014

Kind of right and wrong.

So two weeks ago, or so,  I posted about returning to work  from my medical leave. I had feared the worst but things turned out not at all as bad as I'd worried they'd be. So naturally I figured all was well and dandy and my worries unfounded, and transitioning back into work was going to be easy. Well, then Saturday happened. It was rough and stressful and I felt like a useless shit. Then the rest of that weekend. Then this past weekend. Oy, intensity. At first it was difficult as I was still adjusting back to the rhythm of the restaurant and serving and all that but was put in some tough situations all the same. For example, I got a four table section that Saturday in what we call "the back". It's essentially the farthest point from the kitchen and the journey between often presents myriad distractions and such. And before then I'd only worked four tables maybe once. So each of those would have been tough before my time off, nevermind dealing with both w

2nd day.

So today is my second day back at work. Gradually resuming responsibilities; time to be a grownup again and have a job and show up and do it. It's a bit odd but easier than I'd expected, much easier actually. I expected to totally derp the menu or drop something or even tear myself open from the inside. Who knows what kinda crazy hijinks awaited me. But Monday night wasn't bad at all, really. Not only did I survive the shift, but I made more mondy than I need to average in order to stay afloat financially. And that was a pretty slow night. So that was pretty excellent, dude. Who knows, the rest of the week could totally suck, but I don't think it could suck as disastrously as I'd been fearing. And that's pretty sweet. In the meantime, this coffee needs to kick the fuck in cuz I'm still spaced out.

There's a gap in between

So I was a dick last night and actually hadn't meant to be, for once.  So my friend posted a video from his birthday in which his dad playfully wished him happy birthday with a little sign. Super cute, really; I frankly loved it. But in teasing about how the sign revealed my friend's age, I may have referred to his father as "dis bitch". Read "may have" as "did". My friend brought this faux pas to my attention with a graceful and simple and unaccusing assertiveness; realizing my bad, I immediately owned it and apologized for it in what may have been my most mature and honest apologies ever. He forgave me, and all should be well. But I'm still very mad at myself. My head is all a jumble over this. I'm pretty angry with myself, and I'm angry for being angry with myself. I can't seem to let it go and move on. And I'm mad at myself for a bunch of reasons and in a bunch of ways. Trying to sort those out and find an honest, so

Good news, everyone!

There's a strong chance we can altogether avoid that big scary second surgery ! That's the summary of my doctor's visit in Philly yesterday. I'll go back to see the oncologist guy on August 4 (though they're trying to move it up in case I do need the surgery for various harmless reasons). There's debate about the RPLND surgery as despite its complexity and seriousness, it often turns out to be unnecessary is as many as 75 to 80% of cases. In fact, most European doctors opt for chemo instead. The general alternative is observation and surveilance; the bloodwork and cat scans I'd have to do, like, monthly for some number of years. The big worry if chemo is involved at any point instead of surgery is the possibility of chemo-resistant tumors showing up later on, necessitating that RPLND surgery afterall. Apparently this is the better option for me. The results of bloodwork and CAT scan show pretty much zero indication of even microtumors or anything in my l

Beginnings, and other ways of being.

So today I begin my trek up to Philly. I'm going up to visit a friend in Baltimore and stay the night, then on to Philly tomorrow. The curious thing of it is the Baltimore friend; rather, that's what's on my mind. He recently started exploring his attraction to men, so it's not surprising that he warned me that he doubts he'd be able to offer anything serious. Yes, I'm probably going to sleep with him, as if that didn't go without saying. But for now it will probably be that and friendship. I'm pretty okay with this. I've found it's actually not that uncommon in the gay community to have good friends you sometimes sleep with or fool around with, but don't have much expectation of a relationship, at least to begin with. Yeah, it can get messy sometimes; sometimes feelings develop despite themselves. But I can say from personal experience that I've at least made out with a good number of my gay friends and remained friends after. Not th

Infuriation, stepwise.

Bit by bit, day by day, my big appointment draws nearer. I'm going up to Philly on Friday to see some specialists, two of the best available, and find out exactly what's coming next. Surgery? Surveillance? Chemo? As I've said before, most likely it'll be surgery. The big scary one. With the slicing my whole belly open and lifting of organs and snipping out of a dozen little lymph nodes all nestled up against my aorta and vena cava. Yeah, that one. From what I'm seeing, if we go that route I'll probably be off from work for as few as two or as many as three months, more likely the three. I should be okay though; as I said these are two of the best guys around. So of course what's actually  worrying me is far more...trivial. I'm trying to coordinate with my current urologist's office to send all the reports and results and other records they have for me up to the Philly guys. I'm worried things are going to be left out and we'll waste ti

Falling into place, if a bit forcibly.

I've blogged a couple times now about my efforts to build some routines into my life. I think getting myself to do my chores and stuff will get easier when it's part of a routine versus just free floating. It's all still a work in progress, massively so, but I'm experimenting with different setups to see what feels right. Some are just making time and space in my day to do things I would or should do normally--showering, brushing teeth, etc. Other things take me out of my usual behavior and don't have to be done--doing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen, making my bed, etc. I imagine normal people have no trouble with this stuff. But I'm both forgetful and avoidant. As soon as I'm out of bed, I'm liable to forget it all but entirely, leaving it unmade and rushing off to whatever's next. Even if I remember it or see it or think of it throughout the day, I consciously choose not to remake it. I suppose it feels tedious or distracting or something. Wh

The Move, p. 2 and so on.

So we're all moved in and pretty settled. Marcel is doing great though clearly starting to jones for the great outdoors, but that issue is still subject to debate. I've managed to strip down my objects and belongings so while I still have "a lot of stuff", it's a lot less than it was. My room is a room I can live in, and it's pretty awesome. My room. Still a work in progress but I'd say 94% there at least. There you go, that's my room. Still not quite full settled, but it's almost there. I need to get a real rolly chair, for one, and to hang my white/bulletin board. You can see my dual monitors going on, some of my knickknacks unobtrusively placed, and even my beautifully made bed. Yeah, that's a thing I do now. The drawers on top of the desk (upper right corner), which probably won't look like drawers to you, are from my glorious little writing desk; it's leg was breaking so my mom is fixing it. I even had my first friend over

Master of Chores: Routines and other sequels.

As I posted yesterday, I've been trying to get a handle on doing chores and such. To that end, and others, I've been trying to build up routines and structure to help me remember and complete these chores. For example, I've taken charge of the kitchen. One routine I'm trying to build is 'closing up' the kitchen at the end of night. I go through and load the dishwasher, wipe down the counters and stove and stuff, and then even wet swiffer the floor. It feels really good when I finish all that, dude, I love it. Of course I'm still not great at consistency . Like, I forgot last night. And some other night, too, I think the one before. So routines are still a work in progress for me. Other routines I'd like to develop include setting up and going through my to-do list for the day; a weekly laundry and bed making thing; and some manner of getting up early to shower, write, and workout before the rest of the day gets underway. Some of these are falling i

Master of Chores.

So I've been trying to keep myself useful of late. The other day I started working with an ADD coach to get my shit together and start making & goals for myself and develop routines. Even before that, since moving in to the new place, I've been trying to keep busy with practical projects. A lot of it was "unpack clothes" or "throw out junk" or "stow tubberware" and such. Most of that's done now, so I'm having to find other chores and motivate myself to do them. Tricky business cuz I'm a lazy ass by nature. I seem to live by "If I can avoid doing it, then it's not worth doing". I mean, it's not that  explicitly expressed in my reasoning, but that's kind of what it boils down to. So where my to-do list was all like "unpack office stuff for desk" or "put away clothes" now it's all "find driving school" or "pay for school", arguably more important tasks but also more

It's not over.

In all likelihood, I'll need a second, more complicated surgery before this is done. I'm not entirely sure why I haven't bothered to post about this yet, but it's been on my mind all the same. Essentially, the tumor was a non-seminoma germ cell tumor, specifically embryonal carcinoma. This more aggressive half of the ball cancer family still follows a predictable route--through a sequence of lymph nodes up the torso to the lungs, liver, brain, and beyond. Because this sequence is so predictable and because this kind of germ cell tumor resists chemo, it is almost always treated with surgery. It's called retroperitoneal lymph node dissection. Cool, can't be that bad, yeah? Lymph nodes aren't so big or anything, just gotta cut out these couple and call it a day. Except. They run up the torso, so the incision goes from just below the chest to below the belly button. Big ass cuts up in here. They are also under  many of the organs of the body cavity, posi


The good news is I can still jack off. I've actually known for a while--in fact, the first night after the surgery. I somewhat surreptitiously attempted it; obviously I was doing it intentionally, and alone in the dark, so the only secretive part was in considering reasons I might refrain from beating off the goods barely 12 hours after they'd been under the knife, but choosing to anyway. And all systems were go, and came. I paused, though, as I approached climax, (it had already taken a while) not sure if I'd be racked with pain or look down to find blood in my cum, thinking, "If there's going to be a time to stop, a last chance to avoid a risk of anything, of the worst, now is that time," but taking the plunge instead. It had been a while, I guess; it was everywhere. And no blood in the semen or crippling pain! It's funny, I suppose. I first found the lump while masturbating. I was already at the brink, so there really wasn't much choice to st

The Move, p. 1.

So today is the big day. Well, one of them. But it's the first one! So that's still a big deal. I love how I call this "The Move" as though it's the first and last time I'll ever move. Of course it isn't the first; though it could be the last--maybe I'll just keep renting this house forever .  Meh, not so likely. But as my dad pointed out last night, this is possibly the biggest move I've made yet. It's more or less the "There's no going back" move. Craaaaaazy . For those of you who don't know, I'm moving out to College Park, right next to campus (4 min bike ride from the center of campus, 20 min walk) for dirt cheap. As I said to my roommate when I gave her the key, "It's a shithole, but it's our  shithole now." And it's actually not that bad. There are things I poke fun at--the obviously ancient overhead lighting that's likely older than the house itself, always a source of bemusement

A less interesting post.

I'll see if I can throw up something more risque or interesting tomorrow (maybe a masturbation status update??), but today I am tired. My friend and now roommate Erin and I finally got the keys to our new place in College Park. I got everything measured and stuff; they scoffed at me, teased me even, but then I got home and found free floor plan drawing program, and behold! u jelli? Pretty sweet, yeh? Now when we move in on Sunday I'll already know where all my shit is going, for the most part. I have one or two less desirable variations that I may have to settle with for the interim, but I don't mind; the core of what's gonna make this room work will still be there. The desk, basically. Fucking love that desk. I found a sweet monitor to install in it for super cheap; it arrives next week. It's gonna be beast. BEAST. In other news, I actually started writing a bit of a short story yesterday. I blogged about it over on the interrobanger blog , though it'

Phantom nut?

It's not that I'm ungrateful. The surgery itself as far as I know was free of complications, and the recovery has been thankfully uneventful. I have my followup next Monday where we'll discuss whatever the labs found and path forward. So all is as well as it can be. But it's kind of...weird: My junk just seems off somehow.  For one, they shaved/trimmed   everything . My groin, my pubes, even the treasure trail. Besides being a(n understandably) graceless effort, it's foreign to me. Not once since I sprouted pubic hair have I ever experimented with man-scaping. So it's weird looking and weird feeling. I can't tell if it makes my dick looking bigger (as people claim) or smaller or just weird. Of course, most of the time it's been soft, and often right after icing the area to manage inflamation, etc. I'll let you know what I think after I've made more erect assessments. Of course there's also the obvious: I'm missing a ball. So

Today, I lose a testicle: An FAQ.

So the other day I posted about my medical goings on, the cancer and whatnot, and I've gotten some great feedback. I'm really grateful for the love and support people have so freely offered me, it's humbling and wonderful. I've also gotten a lot of questions. A lot of the same questions, understandably. I'd like to answer as many as I can remember to help everyone out. You're having surgery? For what?? Oh, you know, just a bit of cancer. Omigawd, what kind of cancer?? Testicular Cancer. It's remarkably treatable. Are you scared? I mean, it is cancer, but really not very much. As far as cancer goes, testicular cancer is actually very treatable. The surgery is usually pretty effective, especially when done early on. Then they monitor you for a couple years--usually going in for CAT scans and bloodwork a couple times a year. Even if the cancer has spread, the chemo for it is highly effective; they've narrowed it down to a very specific family of drug

My balls got an ultrasound.

My right testicle is pregnant with twins. The abortion is Wednesday. In other words, I have cancer. You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to say that. "My balls got an ultrasound." It's hilarious. I was giggling inside even as I saw what is likely a pair of germ cell tumors snuggled up inside one of m'boys. More on that in a bit. We've scheduled the surgery for next Wednesday. I'll be off my feet for a couple weeks and further recovering for another couple. Of course the timing is terrible. Things were finally starting to fall into place. I'm working at a restaurant these days, some nights making more than I'd make for a whole week's labor at the store I was at before. At the end of this month I finally move out of my parents and closer to campus. I was about to start up yoga and swimming again in an effort to get toned and sexy again. School hadn't killed me; I managed all A's for the semester. I was also gearing up to pur

Parenthetical therapies.

So I checked out a potential new psychologist today. She seemed pretty cool; nice southern accent that reminds me of an old coworker I don't see nearly enough of these days. Today we got through my (riveting) developmental story (aka, origin story) and some other basics; next week we hope to cover goals and major issues in better depth. I'm sure that overview satisfies everyone's curiosity. I'm also hoping (ie, need to get my ass motivated) to email that ADD coach from earlier in the semester . She seemed pretty sharp and even the little I actually made use of her helped. And as the semester has worn on I can feel my time management skills (lack of) eroding my serenity and stuff. All the same, school itself is going pretty well. Most of my papers and exams have been gratifying, mostly, and where they've been lacking I can pretty clearly see my lack of focus contributing (furthering my want of an ADD coach). In other news, my friends and I signed a lease last

From an email to an ADD Coach

Here's where I'm at these days. This poor woman. She's a colleague of my mother's and probably hating her right now for referring me to her.  More general news after the email chunk. So, today i'm trying to make contact with the campus. After much ru nning about (I've discovered that UMD's website is not really a singular monolith but rather a congealed mass of smaller, distinct websites for the various colleges and their departments. very confusing.) I've managed to gather several bits of data. For one, I can now log in to things.  Apparently at this point the "block" on being able to register is for academic advising with the English department (as a transfer, I've already matriculated). What I'd like to know is whether the orientation is mandatory to proceed with the semester (apparently they're not rescheduling today's....or listing any further ones for the spring 2014 term....) or whether I can try meeting with an ad