The surgeon had closed the operation scar in my tummy with metal clips (there were also metal clips inside me but I didn’t learn about those until later). I booked an appointment with my GP nurse, about six weeks later. When I turned up, she asked if I had any medical pliers, which I should have been given by the hospital. Well, I didn’t so had to go back to the ward where I’d recovered from the operation. The nurse was quite pleasant and gentle but she began at the top of the scar, just below my belly button, and worked downwards. It became quite interesting as she reached the last clip, an inch or so above the base of my penis. She put a large, clear, transparent plaster over the wound and sent me on my way.
Two weeks later, I called in at my local GP nurse as there was a little bit of seepage from the wound. It was cleaned up and a fresh plaster applied. Over the course of the next few weeks, it slowly healed and I started to think about getting on with my life. I returned to work in May 2005 and was made redundant in October. After working my three months notice, during which time I managed to find another job, my wife and I went t to Mauritius for a well deserved three week break. My new job kept me happy and occupied until I retired in May 2010.
One of my major concerns was the erectile dysfunction that I had been warned would occur. I was surprised that there was still some life my penis, even allowing for the ‘phantom erection’ feeling that occasionally occurred. That must be how persons who have lost limbs feel, imagining they can still wiggle toes or fingers. Anyway, I was pleased that it was stiil possible to climax, even if ejaculation was a distant memory after the vasectomy part of the operation. Penetration was difficult, even with the help of Viagra. I found better outcomes after eating a good fish supper. ||I considered penis injections or pumps but decided against. All of this part of the recovery required an understanding and patient partner, for which I remain thankful.
Then, in 2008, my twin brother telephoned to tell me his own watching and waiting, using regular blood tests to monitor his PSA level, had missed an opportunity of a prostatectomy operation when his PSA shot up to over 300. I never understood why he didn’t insist on a biopsy immediately after I had told him of my diagnosis back in 2004. Dave underwent some chemotherapy to try and manage the cancer. However, he found the side effects too much to bear and discontinued it. He turned to religion, hoping, I imagine, that this might help him cope. He also tried neuro linguistic programming, determined that mind over matter would resive his situation. The family did its best to help and support him but he eventually had to give up his charity directorship and relocated from Nottingham to the city of his birth, Birmingham, to be close to his daughter and his grandchildren. The cancer spread to his bones and it was awful to see him slowly declining and losing his taste and appetite. in the final months, his body fat wasted away and at the end, he became doubly incontinent. He died in a nursing home in March 2012.
