(Edited from several of my blog posts which I prevously published under the title “A Journey Through Cancer,” this was prepared for public reading for event #5 of LOL, Life Out Loud ( www.lol-lifeoutloud.com) where it was well received.)
October 14, 2008
Just in case you are wondering about my history of romantic relationships, let me tell you this: In my case that history is nil. I have had what I thought at the time were romantic relationships, but were actually something else entirely. First of all, throughout high school I hardly dated at all much less developed any kind of teenage romance. In college the first time, as a budding alcoholic I fell into dating the daughter of an alcoholic which was hardly a romance but rather two sick people supporting each other's sickness. Furthermore, although this was the era of "free love," we hardly even got into heavy petting. Through my first hitch in the Navy, I hardly dated but instead turned to prostitutes for sex. Returning to college from the Navy, I dated even less although I found myself in the company of women. Often they were so comfortable and "safe" with me that they would reveal the most intimate of secrets.
Not long after college, I did marry. This had nothing to do with romance or even "good sex." I filled the requirements for her to get her son out of foster care. I also provided some degree of financial security. Although this was a nightmare of a marriage with her drinking and drugging and semi-psychotic behavior, karmicly it was for the good, because I protected her son from her violence. During my second enlistment in the Navy we divorced. After that, I only dated a few times and had a sexual relationship once before I was discharged. After the Navy, I entered a Russian Orthodox Monastery. From then until now, notwithstanding both an informal renunciation of the monastic vows and a ritualized renunciation of them, in the years since quit being a Christian monk I have not actually dated nor have I had a sexual relationship, not even a single romantic kiss. We're not talking just about a sex life, but about the potential of a real love life!
Reflecting on this sordid history, especially the time after rejecting the constraints of Orthodox Christian monasticism, I have to come to certain conclusions. It is my Karma, for whatever reasons from my present life and my past lives that I am not seen by any woman as being a potential romantic or sexual partner. Since we are in the 21st Century and no longer operating within the limitations of the 1960s, if a woman really were interested, she would make herself known. Indeed one lady who found my MySpace profile interesting did contact me, making her interest known to me. But in spite of our common interests and shared points of view, nothing came of it.
At this late date in my life, facing this constant reminder of my mortality, in 2009, I gave no more energy to even the possibility of romance, sex, or any such thing. Instead, I accepted that the remainder of my life was to be at least as solitary as it had been so far. No wife, no girlfriend, no lover, no partner of any kind. I was instead to be permanently celibate as a Tibetan Buddhist monk. While this was a well -considered decision, its implementation has required mental, emotional and spiritual work for its fulfillment. I am, after all, a heterosexual man with a healthy libido. [pause]
Over time, especially during my drinking years, there were many "close calls"with death. For instance, in 1973 I had a fractured vertebra which should have left me paralyzed but it only served to get me to my first alcohol rehab and my first AA meeting. A few days out of the hospital I drank again. Then in 1983, I fell asleep at the wheel, perched my van in a tree and ended up with both arms broken, a fractured knee, a few holes in me, and various internal injuries.
Two weeks into my hospital stay, my X-rays revealed a traumatic tear of the descending aorta which was "seeping." A thin membrane was keeping me from "bleeding out" into my chest.
Of course all those fractures, have left behind reminders in the arthritic pains especially with storms approaching or in the cold of winter. The repaired tear to the aorta has given me a tendency to make micro-clots that have produced mini-strokes. However, I am still alive and I get to burn off the negative Karma and find ways to be of benefit to sentient beings, feeling, living beings.
In 2008, when I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and after hearing the treatment plan the doctors set out for me, I decided to become a monk. Becoming a monk was finally the acceptance of my Karma.
October 9th, I had my first appointment at Radiation Oncology with Dr. Zachariah and his nurse, Joyce. We discussed the plan for my treatment which would begin sooner than expected. It seems that current research indicates no benefit from hormone therapy for patients receiving beam radiation treatments. On the other hand, it could have produced unnecessary side effects, even exacerbating coronary artery disease, which I have to a mild degree. At least now I don't have to face the development of "man boobs" and I get a reprieve from erectile dysfunction.
On December 2nd, I go in for my first treatment session. In all, I would have around 42. Thereafter, Monday through Friday, except for Federal Holidays, I go in every day until all those have been completed.
The radiation has a daunting set of side effects. These start with the minor sensitivity or irritation of the skin through which the beam passes. From there we move through a series of consequences to the bladder, urethra, and rectum which range from minor to very serious. Of course, any discussion of side effects was weighed against the results of the cancer spreading to other organs and tissues. While I was not particularly worried about dying, I'd rather not have to deal with cancer loose in the rest of my body.
September 23, 2011
In the phase called “surveillance,” this monk gets a prostate biopsy which is not something I enjoy having. An enema first thing in the morning is not my idea of a good start to the day.
The nurse calls me in.
It is so strange that I am so comfortable pulling down my shorts there in mixed company. I guess it helps that the nurse has such a masculine manner that she seems more like “one of the guys.” I couldn't say whether this is from her sexual orientation or the aftereffects of a military career, but it is common among VA staff. However it comes about, I am grateful for it, because this is a far more intimate situation than simple nudity. This is more a matter of feeling vulnerable and trusting the crew working on me.
In the lab, with my shorts pulled down and my shantab pulled up I lie on my side as the nurse gives me the local anesthetic to prepare me for the procedure. I chat easily with the nurse and the tech as well as the doctor when he comes in. The small talk helps me be more at ease in such an unnatural situation.
Oddly, despite the overall unnaturalness of the whole situation, everything about the entire procedure seems so familiar and so “normal.” I don't flinch with the spring release on each biopsy needle and even understand the locations that the doctor reports to the nurse to record for each sample. I don't even have the curiosity to see the ultrasound monitor as I had wished to do during the previous biopsies.
This time I know fully what to expect. It won't be quite as easy a recovery as the first one had been, but it won't be too bad either. I'll have a little bleeding, both rectal and urinary, a bit more than some others might because of the blood thinner I normally take, but it won't last all that long. I also know not to be surprised by how much I'll hurt when the anesthetic wears off. After all, the doctor has just jabbed a dozen holes through my rectum into my prostate gland.
Thursday, November 17, 2011.
Finally it is the day for me to get the results of my latest prostate biopsy!!
I am called in to see the doctor. As it turns out I see two doctors, a senior resident and a junior resident.
The junior takes the lead in explaining that my prostate lab test is well within normal bounds, although still not as low as we would wish after radiation therapy. Nevertheless, with no sign of cancer in any biopsy sample we won't be scheduling any more biopsies. Monitoring will just be continuing the lab tests accompanied with digital rectal examinations, [pause] the “finger wave”. In fact, he does one of those today and pronounces, based on that and the labs and the biopsy, that there is no sign of cancer now. I can tell that he lacks experience, because he seems to be SEARCHING for my prostate rather than knowing exactly where it is.
July 19th 2011
When I decided to become a monk, I resigned myself to the “facts” that I could never be a lama and that I could never spend very long in a monastery in India or Nepal. Since my source of health care is the Veterans Administration system, I cannot go longer than six months and still receive my regular medications. When I reflect on my life as I have lived it up to the present moment, I have tried many things, not all of them successfully. Indeed there are a lot that would fall into the category of nonvirtue, but at least not into the category of heinous acts. I know that I am nothing special but just the phenomenon that results from certain causes under certain conditions. I know I am not the ideal monk. I know I am a "baby" Buddhist and "baby" monk.
However, there is nothing that I have ever done that is totally wasted, no matter how much I may regret having done it, as long as it may be turned to the benefit of others.
