In the morning, we’re meeting with my doctor to review my lab results and get confirmation of whether or not I’m completely cancer-free. I’m very nervous, although I’ve been assured that they saw no evidence that it had spread. I guess we’ll know for certain tomorrow.
Once that’s behind me, I hope to focus on other important decisions… Like shaving. I shaved my balls—plural—before my first exam in August. I consider it good etiquette to clean up down there before an exam. So when I found out I had a testicle that was completely ravaged with a cancerous tumor, at least everyone who saw me naked that day could say, “Hey, that guy takes good care of his bush.”
I have not taken care of my bush since I was diagnosed. There is a long incision across my pubic area from surgery. It looks like the slot of my car’s CD player. I haven’t tried inserting a CD into myself to see if it would work, but I suspect if I did, it would have to be a Mika CD. Our son loves Mika, so of course I would play his CD.
And my one ball, the lone soldier that it is, is just floating there in the middle of a hairy sack, with a surprising amount of grey hairs. When the fuck did my scrotum get old?
I don’t care what Anderson Cooper and George Clooney have done to boost the appeal of the grey-haired population… Grey ball hair is still not and never will be sexy.
Maybe after I get my good news tomorrow—and I do hope it’s good news—I will come home and shave my ball, and try to trim the area around my CD player.
That is all for now.