This week I found out some bad news about the lingering nerve damage cancer has left me with. A urodynamic test (don’t read about it, it’s gruesome) was used to determine which parts of my system are still not working right. Although there is still hope (I like to think that there’s always hope and I know our God works in miracles as evidenced by me still walking this earth today), this test provided some finality to the story of the neuropathy and numbness I’m living with every day now. My doctor dashed with some certainty the remaining optimism that I’ll regain full feeling and be able to function normally someday.
My loss? I will never be able to stand up to pee again. The tumor thoroughly destroyed the nerves it takes to do that. Screw you, cancer. You suck.
The problem? My brain can’t connect through those nerves to the bladder muscle to tell it to contract. I also don’t have control of the valves that would be required for it to work right anyway. I have to perform these tasks with other muscles (my abs). The plus side is that I’m looking forward to trading my beer belly for six pack abs pretty soon since they’ll be seeing a lot more use.
Perhaps I had taken for granted just how convenient and liberating standing up to pee was. My wife wonders if this is karma since I perhaps overindulged (like that’s even possible) in standing up to pee in my past. I simply love standing up to pee. Much to my wife and mother’s dismay, you might frequently have found me peeing in our backyard. Peeing off our deck. Peeing on a tree in the woods. Peeing off of or onto a variety of structures. Peeing into various bodies of water. Peeing with my son and racing him to the finish. Don’t even get me started about writing my name in the snow.
In fact, I had such a passion for standing up to pee that I became somewhat obsessed with pub urinals and the best and most unique ones I could find. My next book project was slated to be “Where to Pee in Portland” which I’ve been dreaming about for years. I’d located the most unique, extreme, and awesome places to pee in town and was excited to share them with the world – from the longest trough to the most ornate antique porcelain masterpiece.
Most certainly half of you reading this are women and already sit down to pee and wonder what the big deal is. Well to me it is a very big deal, however, my doctor reminded me of how lucky I am to be alive and have the function that I do. Sitting down to pee isn’t all that bad considering that I could be in a wheelchair, hooked up to a catheter all day, or worse. In my current state, my bladder is what they call “safe” so it is unlikely to get an infection or destroy my kidneys like they were worried about. Yes, it could be much worse.
I may be mourning the loss of standing up to pee today but I’m also counting my blessings and thanking God for the unique combination of working parts in my body that give me a reasonable quality of life at all. Nice try, cancer. I win.
I have no idea where this post puts me in my grieving process:
Denial (this isn’t happening to me!)
Anger (why is this happening to me?)
Bargaining (I promise I’ll be a better person if…)
Depression (I don’t care anymore)
Acceptance (I’m ready for whatever comes)
Maybe I’ve even accepted sitting down to pee at this point. Please don’t mind my scowl though if I come out of a bathroom stall to find you peacefully whizzing into a luxurious urinal someday…