NO BALLS, NO LYMPH NODES

Had our follow up appointment this morning with Doctor Alan Yamada - the man that stole my heart and my ball.

It's Halloween so everyone in the office was dressed like somebody else.

Dorothy answered the window - it's a sliding glass set-up. She pulled it open and I said, "I'm here to see the wizard."

Behind her was Pippi Longstocking (maybe), an Asian Little Bo Pepe and the oldest woman I've ever seen Halloweening as a receptionist at a urology clinic.

So they called us in and we sat in his office forever and listened to him talk to other patients through the walls because they're so thin. He asked one guy, "How's that tube we put in working out for you?

Things could be worse. I could have "a tube".

Yamada (my doctor) came in and told us some of my test results were bad. See, after they pulled out the nut to end all nuts, they chopped it up - I mean puree, baby. Blender time. Made a paste outta it and did some tests. Tests came back bad. Bad like we need to either give me some chemo or do some more surgery and rip out my lymph nodes - shake em around in front of the other organs, scare them into cooperating.

Either one of those would do, he says, OR you can just wait to see if you die. He doesn't say it like that but he says it.

REALLY?

Choices, choices, choices......

We don't have to decide today. So what do we do? I don't know. YOU TELL ME.


Got some weird testosterone supplements too. He said I could either take

a.) an intramuscular shot everyday for the rest of my life - like, in my bicep or

b.) rub some gel on my shoulders every day for the rest of my life.

REALLY?

choices, choices, choices.....


Took the gel. He warned my child bride and I - he said, "Okay, don't "make love" after he's put this on" and I'm thinking, "make love"? Is THAT what it's called when I hit her repeatedly with the back of my shoe, screaming at her to stop talking to her mother on the phone and just lie there and be still and silent?

She can't touch me for a bit because, you know, we don't want the female half growing a mustache - they tickle. Plus I don't want to feel like some gay sailor while I'm "making love".

I'M LIKE THE BOY IN THE FREAKING PLASTIC BUBBLE! MY WIFE CAN'T TOUCH ME WHILE I'M "ACTIVE ON THE GEL" - MORE F'ING SURGERY! ARE YOU JOKING!!!!???? CAN I HAVE A BREAK???? CAN WE GET A BREAK??!!! WHAT GIVES??? MOTHER...................mother nature....sometimes it's healthy to shout, you know. Even if it does amount to nothing more than sitting silently, alone, on your couch and typing in all CAPS.


Before we leave the offices of Dr. Alan Yamada - collector of testes and vaginal reconstructer extraordinaire - we have to set up another appointment.

Little Bo Pepe and Mother Time are trying to figure it out. I don't know. It seemed very shady. When I came around the corner Bo was picking her nose and I'm thinking.....what am I thinking? What do I say to that? I hope she's not eating out of the public peanut and candy corn dish I'm trying not to snack casually out of.

So Oldest Lady on Earth and Bo Pepe - they're trying to pencil us in, but they've got to write down some doctor code on this sheet for us to take to the place where I need to get my blood drawn and they've got to get the info from the sheet the doctor wrote on, but they can't read the doctor's handwriting so they're both staring at it going, "S......P.........M?" Really slowly spelling out the word, y'know?

So I go, "Can I get the origin of the word?" A little spelling bee humor.

Pepe eats another booger and scribbles something down then looks at us and goes, "Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing."

Really? I'd feel more comfortable if you just lied to me.

Afterward we went to the mall and did some therapy shopping. I bought two pairs of shoes, a hat, two scarves, a pair of earrings and a pretzel - OH MY GOSH, I'M GOING GAY!!!

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!