When My Man Part Got Sick

A cancer story told entirely in one-syllable words and dumb drawings

First, a short introduction…
My name is Anthony and I had prostate cancer. It seems I don’t anymore, and hopefully that’s permanent.

Since you’re reading this, you probably already know what this can take from you: your dignity, physical stamina, urinary function, and sexual function; your time, your money, and your prostate. Some of this stuff you get back, some you don’t.

I did not get back my time and money, nor the organ I was born with and expected to die with. Here is a drawing of what a prostate looks like when it’s sad because it has cancer:

A prostate is about the size and shape of a big acorn, except it’s bloody and has tubes coming out the bottom. It was really easy to make a jokey drawing of a sad prostate and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Anyway, getting the other stuff back that cancer took was a lot of work, and it was hard to find actual information and stories about that beyond “Remember guys, get your prostate checked.” I’m not a support-group kind of dude, so that was out. But I don’t mind telling the stories about the personal indignities I got through, so if it’s helpful, here you go. If not helpful, here you go. Have a laugh on me.

[Here’s the YouTube version of this if ya want it.]

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One day, I went to my doc, and she said, “It’s time for me to look at your blood.”

“What will you see?” I said.

“Well,” she said, “your man part makes a stuff that it puts in your blood. If your man part is sick, then your blood stuff will be too high.”

In a few days the lab told me that the score for my blood stuff was too high.

My doc said, “I will send you to a new doc. A pee doc.”

I went to the pee doc and he said, “Yes, your blood stuff is too high. Let’s check it in 6 weeks.”

“Till then, don’t ride your bike, and no fun time with your wife, because those things might make the lab test score your blood stuff too high when it’s not.”

What the lab told my pee doc made him sad.

“I want you to get a scan of your man part,” he told me.

But then a shield and a cross came in and said, “We don’t like scans of man parts. We won’t pay for them.”

My pee doc said we would wait them out. It was a long time.

Then one day the shield and cross said they would pay for the scan of my man part.

When I saw the scans of my man part, I thought, “those look weird.” And they did.

My pee doc did not like the scans.

“It looks like your man part has a small thing,” he said.

“But not a good

thing. This thing is bad, and makes your man part sick.”

I was sad.

“I will send you to a new doc,” he said.

“What kind of new doc?” I said.

“A ‘sick-man-part-with-a-small-bad-thing doc,” he said.

I saw the new doc on a screen. He said that he had to take a piece of my man part’s small bad thing and see what it told him.

He had to take that piece out through my butt. I was not glad.

But the day came, and it did not hurt like I thought. Then I had to wait.

The next time I saw my doc on the screen, he said to me that my man part’s small bad thing was in fact a big bad thing.

“And,” he said, “one day your man part and its bad thing will have to come out.”

“Or we can wait and watch for now.”

“Let’s do that,” I said.

“We’ll check your blood stuff lots of times,” he said.

One day the lab said my blood stuff was way, way high. I knew it was time to say bye to my man part to get rid of its big bad thing.

I was sad and mad.

I went to a big place where I went to sleep, and the doc made lots of cuts in me to take out my man part and its bad thing.

He took great care, but he still had to make cuts in all my pee parts.

Ow.

After all the cuts, my pee parts had to heal, which meant I had to pee through a tube for ten days.

The tube was no fun.

I was sad.

Then one day my pee doc took out the tube. But my pee parts were still hurt, and they still had to heal. So, I had to wear a pee pad, because I might pee in front of groups. They might point at me and laugh.

My pee doc and my man part doc both said, “You will go to a place where you will work to get strong so you can pee where and when you want and not in front of groups.” “You will see our strength pro. She will help you.” She made me work hard. She taught me to stretch and get strong abs. My butt cheeks got strong, too.

Then I threw out my pee pad, because I was so strong that I would not pee in front of groups.

I was glad.

The pee doc said, “it’s been four weeks, let’s look at your blood stuff in case the bad thing hid from the man-parts doc.”

The lab said they did not see stuff in my blood, and the bad thing was not in me.

Three months went by, and the lab score once more said there was no stuff in my blood. Yay!

In the spring I saw my man-parts doc on screen and he said now I should try fun time with my wife.

I was glad.

“Take these pills for one month,” he said, “and try to have fun time each day.”

I was glad.

My wife said, “Wow that sure is a lot of fun time!”

But we were glad, though some days we were late for work.

Then one day, the lab said, “The score we made for your blood stuff might have gone up.”

Oh no! I had blood stuff but no man part.

Did I? Was the big bad thing still in me?

I felt fear.

The next day I tried to see my pee doc, but he had quit and gone to the Deep South.

Now there was no pee doc for men with sick parts in my small town.

I had to go and see a new pee doc in a big town that was far.

Then the shield and cross wrote me and said, “We don’t know if we like this new pee doc. You have to call him and ask him if we like him.”

“Why do I have to call?” I said.

The shield and cross did not say why. They just said to call.

The new pee doc’s staff said, “The shield and cross are nuts! Of course they like us! Come on down!”

The new pee doc’s place was full. He had lots and lots of new men that came from a long way with sick man parts. He had to look at them all.

He told me, “Labs will change how they make their score for blood stuff. But don’t fret; your score is still so low that it means you still have no stuff in your blood.”

“Why did they change it?” I said.

He did not know. “See you in a month,” he said.

The next month, the lab said my blood stuff was not there. So my new pee doc was right.

I was glad.

Then the day came when it had been a year since they took out my man part and its bad thing.

This was the big day—would I have blood stuff or not?

I was ill at ease. What would the lab say?

The lab said I had no blood stuff. That means that the bad thing should not come back.

I was so glad, I had a sweet treat, and a beer, and then I gave blood.

Some days I miss my man part. I was born with it, but it’s gone now. Some days I feel sad. Some days I feel mad.

Most days I feel good. I take good care of me. I can run and bike and have fun time with my wife. I do not pee in front of groups at all.

Still, the bad thing could come back one day. I’ll have to keep watch all my life, even though I feel well.

But I think it’s gone for good, and I am glad.

That’s it for now.