Leakage? I don't have no stinkin' leakage...

When they remove your catheter, 7-14 days after surgery (9 days for me), they send you home. In. A. Diaper. Thaaat's right - a diaper. I can't imagine why some men equate this surgery with losing your manhood. There's absolutely nothing emasculating about having to wear a diaper. Except there is. Totally.

Them: Here, put this on.
Me: What is it?
Them: It's a diaper.
Me: I know. I'm just trying to determine if I'm hallucinating. Do I really need to wear this?
Them: Well, you've been catheterized for 9 days, and you'll need to relearn bladder control. These will help you get home without ruining your car seat.
Me: That's very thoughtful.. Can I have a pair without Hello Kitty on them?
Them: Man up, cowboy. Here's take some of these, as well.
Me: What the hell are these?
Them: They're sanitary pads. Do you know how to use them?
Me: You may have noticed, since you just removed my catheter, that I'm not female. So, no.
Them: My apologies.
Me: S'okay, the thong probably threw you.
Them: Yes...thongs and sanitary pads are probably not the most efficient combination.
Me: Understood. I don't often get to show my junk to others while my wife is present, so I saw this happening completely different in my mind. Wrong again. Say, these things look like giant Swiffer wet mop pads. Surely I don't wear these WITH the diaper - seems like major overkill...
Them: No, the diaper is just to get you home and are recommended for sleep  periods. You can use the sanitary pads during the day - if you find you're not leaking too much, you may even want to try using one of your wife's pads since they're smaller and more comfortable. (this last part said with a smile)
Me: So my goal is to go from diapers, to sanitary pads, to my wife's female-parts pads? I actually buy those for my wife at BJ's - do I want wings or non-wings, flexi, regular or super, scented or unscented, etc...
Them: Are you being serious?
Me: I'm standing here in a diaper and thong. I'm shocked you're still paying attention to me at all.
Them: This isn't the worst I have seen.
Me: I'm not sure what you're paid, but I'm certain it's not enough.
Them: Thank you. Perhaps you could put some pants on now.
Me: We're talking about me wearing diapers and using my wife's monthly pads. We are well past the point where either of us should be embarrassed, wouldn't you say?
Them: True. But I do find the Hello Kitty print distracting.
Me: Touche'.
Peace.

I'm catheter-free!! (and no longer allowed on the couch)

Yes indeedy, the catheter has been removed. I'm thrilled, but also feeling somewhat vulnerable. How could this make me feel vulnerable, you ask? Picture this - I'm taking one of my recuperative walks. I get accosted by a bad guy. I'm still weak, stomach still distended and sore, and I'm not supposed to be exerting any force that exceeds lifting anything heavier than 5 pounds. I'm pretty much helpless.

But, had I still had my catheter and accompanying bag, I could swiftly detach the bag from my leg and smack my assailant across the face with it. It would likely burst when it strikes him. That's right, he's now covered in someone else's urine. He doesn't recover from that, he doesn't continue the fight - basically, he'll have to set himself on fire to ever feel clean again. There's really no other option.

Think of how society could benefit from this - instead of tasers, police would have catheter bags. Instead of tear gas - urine mist. Instead of nuclear payloads, fit a missile with several hundred gallons of urine. Tea party members of Congress acting like adolescents - well, you get the idea. We could even rate the strengths - vegan would be mild, asparagus eaters would be moderate, those not hydrating enough: commercial strength. Labeling them shouldn't be an issue since Monsanto's not involved.

This could trickle (sorry) into so many areas of our lives. At a sporting event? Maybe a MLB game, but dreading the incredibly long lines at the restrooms (not to mention the unsanitary conditions), and also not wanting to miss any of the game? Problem solved. What about tailgating? Now you won't have to miss one of your buddies vomiting into the back of someone else's pickup truck before the game even starts. It's all good. When I think of all the money parents spend on karate lessons for their kids, when a simple catheter solves so many problems - self defense, bed-wetting, having to stop every 30 minutes on car trips, hell, just the amount of time saved cleaning bathroom toilets (for families with boys) would be worth it. I can't believe no one has thought of this before. You're welcome. Peace.

Post Surgery Post (see what I did there?)

The ninjas have been officially evicted. Pathology results in early next week, but all looked good and went well. For those with lower TMI limits, now might be a good time to stop reading, although I have spared the rest of you accompanying pics.

Possible side effects of the surgery: some swelling in the groin area. That's like saying if you run into a burning house you may experience heat. Holy crap. The boys look like they were on a McDonald's diet for the last 3 years. If your groin could be termed obese, mine is morbidly so. And the color - oh my, you don't find this shade of purple much outside the eggplant display at a farmer's market. It's like the Elephant Man and Barney had a child, and it became my groin. Needless to say, there's discomfort involved, but the good news is that can helped by elevating them. They suggest a rolled towel. I was thinking of a wheelbarrow. I'm exaggerating; I'm sure a softball catcher's mitt would work, and be eminently appropriate.

Let's move north. Anesthesia has a side effect of putting your digestive tract to sleep. It needs to reboot, to start itself back up, otherwise you have a whole new problem to deal with. What it really does is turn you into a 90 year-old man, looking forward to a good bowel movement with the same excitement as a 6 year-old on Christmas morning, who finds out his parents are actually masochists who wrap empty boxes, delighting each time their precocious child registers that look of confusion and disappointment. I was that 90 year-old. I was that 6 year-old.

To help this digestive reboot along, they recommend both small, frequent meals and walking as much as possible. Neither of which I'm in the mood to do. The eating? I have no appetite at all. The walking? You must not have read paragraph 2. But I do both anyway, since I'm a good patient and I know this will help. Someone told me their husband thought they saw me walking the other day; he told her I looked like I was limping. I didn't have the heart to tell her on the phone I was actually waddling, nor why. I imagine in a few more days I'll be looking like the Penguin from Batman. Quack, Quack. Peace.

Buh-bye, Cancer

So this my last day with cancer. I'll be having surgery tomorrow and they're doing it robotically. That's right, robots - which, if you think about it, are just precursors to terminators. True, they're really, really early model terminators: pre-Schwarzenegger versions.

These robots will probably be more like a Sheldon Cooper version of terminators; really smart but not much of a physical threat. But still - robots. How cool is that? Although, robots against cancer - not much of a fight, is it? Poor cancer, you never had a chance. But I will not be sorry to see you go.

You have to appreciate how cancer multiplies recklessly, takes over other systems, destroys everything it can until, if not removed, finally consumes the very host that sustains it. It's like Congress that way, only not as bad. Or evil. Or selfish. 2014's coming up folks...let's not forget the Congressional approval rating is currently below that of... cancer.

But back to me-  it's my last day to use cancer as an excuse. And I have been. Seriously - for everything; at work, at home, during traffic stops, etc. I know that sounds callous, but it works.
"Sorry I'm late, but... I have cancer."
"Oh, did you want that last piece of pizza? I was going to eat it, because, you know... cancer."
"Sorry I was doing 75 mph in the shoulder, but..." well, you get the idea. Even my daughter was jumping on the bandwagon:
Me: "I won't it make to your game today, Sweetie, because..."
Her: "I know... cancer." You have learned well, grasshopper. My eyes well up.

So, day before/of surgery instructions/fun. Eat light - got it, I'll forego the slice of anemic tomato on my triple cheeseburger with bacon. I can sacrifice. Stop taking NSAIDs (Aleve, Motrin, Advil, etc.) because they can cause bleeding. Wouldn't want any bleeding in surgery - got it. I notice marijuana's not on that list. Not that I use it, but - good to know. "No eating or drinking after midnight the night before your surgery." Oh well, so no marijuana and subsequent ravaging of the supermarket's cookie aisle @ 3AM - got it. Again, not that I use it. Marijuana, not the supermarket. Hey, quick digression: here's a tip to let you know if someone knows ANYTHING about what they're talking about (this applies to many things, but especially those things technological): if they put "the" in front of it, they don't know much about it. Witness: "Is she on the drugs?" "Oh yes, I use the Facebook all the time." "I don't like the Obama." You're welcome.

Wait a minute - back up here. No coffee in the morning before surgery? Are you freaking kidding me?!?!? No no no, Memorial Sloan-Kettering - now you've gone too far. I must have my morning java. It's the secret elixir that makes me human each day. My wife tries not to make eye contact with me until that first sip. She's a very wise woman.Without coffee, you shouldn't even be operating on me - a veterinarian should, and only then after having  tranquilized and muzzled me. There better be something caffeinated added to that IV. Just sayin'. Peace.