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Seeds of Hope
Chapter 6, page 66-67, 69
of time. By 3:00 AM I had exhausted our supply of computer paper. I sat there at my desk, likewise exhausted,
staring at my work. Was there time to digest all of this or
was I just kidding myself? Was I stalling, wasting time,
while this beast flourished in my groin? Was sleep deprivation weakening my ability to resist this beast?
My thoughts turned to Sherry. She had gone to bed
alone five hours earlier. There would be no lovemaking
tonight. I had just spent hours reading men's tales of their
lost sexuality. How much time did Sherry and I have left
as lovers? What an idiot I was, to let her go to bed alone!
I had an irrational urge to rush into the bedroom, awaken
my lady, sweep her into my arms in passionate embrace,
and spend the night in love. Such a beautiful woman and
so little time! The song Just Give Me One More Night
raced through my mind. Somewhere between fear and
fatigue my determined research degenerated to cliches
and song lyrics.
Enough! I switched off the computer and went into
the bedroom. I undressed in the darkness to avoid disturbing Sherry. I could hear her rhythmic breathing as she
slept. I was thankful for her steadfast love. I knew that she
would stand by me no matter what our common destiny.
Was I destined to become an old man smelling vaguely of
urine, dribbling pee every time I coughed? I'd seen such
men many times on hospital rounds. How could Sherry
find me attractive wearing adult diapers?
It was at that moment, standing next to my sleeping
bride of thirty-three years, that I made a critical resolution:
Whatever therapy I chose, I would be willing to
accept an increased risk of dying, if I could preserve my
sexuality. I also vowed to do whatever I could to avoid
becoming a urological cripple. That determination would
become my compass, as I worked to set a course in - what
was for me - the uncharted wilderness of cancer.
I snuggled under the covers close to my lady, feeling
a little sorry for myself. I remembered Nick's odds of fifty
percent impotence after a radical prostatectomy.
Snuggling had always been an important part of our intimate moments. Would that be enough to sustain us if I
were to find myself impotent?
# # # #
The next morning Sherry and I were drinking coffee.
I told her about my thoughts last night. I shared my apprehensions about becoming impotent and undesirable. It
wasn't easy. Sherry came over to me and held me in her
arms.
"Michael, I married you for who you are, not for your
penis."
What an incredible woman! In one clear declarative
sentence she had washed away my fears. She gave me
room to move and breathe. Our marriage could survive
this. We could survive this.
[end of selection]
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