a selection from:
Man to Man: Surviving Prostate Cancer
by Michael Korda
continuing Part IV - Recovery
Page 246 - (go to page 245)
I tried to think about the number of times in my life I had had an
erection lasting an hour. They were not numerous. Then I tried to
imagine injecting myself twice in the penis before making love. I did
not think I could do it, and said so.
Dr. Eid frowned. There was nothing to it. He pointed to the
poster. I would have a neat little black leather pouch, my own mixture, and a patented, easy-to-use, virtually painless syringe with
which to inject myself. His patients were enthusiastic about it. He
had no doubt I would feel the same.
I wasn't sure it was for me at all, I said. Dr. Eid smiled. I would see
shortly, he said. He could do nothing without first testing to see how
much atrophy had set in. If I would lie back, please, he would proceed with the injection, and I would see how easy it was.
Maybe I was making a fuss over nothing, I told myself. Maybe the
injections were the answer. Dr. Eid produced a syringe with a long,
fine needle, and filled it. I shut my eyes. How much could it hurt,
after all? Surely I had been through much worse.
I felt a sharp stab in the right side of my penis as Dr. Eid injected
his cocktail into it. I clenched my fists, and gave out a cry. ''You have
to relax,'' he said. ''It's no good if I don't get the needle in deep.''
''It won't work if you don't relax. Please unclench your fists.''
I tried, but they might as well have been glued shut. My fingernails were digging deep into my flesh and my muscles were rigid. Besides, it wasn't just my fists that were clenched — everything in my
body was clenched, except for my penis, which remained flaccid.
''Now the other side,'' he said.
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