Dare to live 1(5)

 

 

If I had a rupture, I wouldn't be able to work in the weight room for months and not be allowed to play in the basketball game. With it being now the middle of October, it meant I'll be back in New Year if I was lucky.

 

 

Note to readers. This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… We will circle back to it…

 

 

I felt stupid waiting for the doctor to come here into the ER. That's because I was stupid. We were working in the school's weight room and wanted to know our limits. We, I mean, me Lin, short for Linas, and my friends Martin, Jack, and Zigi – all freshmen of South Portland High. I was squatting for the sixth time with forty pounds on my shoulders when there was a sharp pain in my groin and I fell down.

"That's could be a rupture," one of the older boys stated while another one called 911.

It was my luck or faith or whatever that my Dad was on shift and he picked me up and brought me to the hospital's ER. He'd called Mom to come here while he was still on shift.

Back to my stupidity now. I and my friends were fourteen and we were eager for puberty to come. But that thing, puberty had no schedule and it was like a lottery while any change was like a prize. The more changes you get the more luck you had. Eventually, the one with more significant changes was kind of marked by faith as a lucky one.

Jack had already some facial hair, still not a beard but it was hair anyway. Zigi had had a growth spurt and he was now five-ten. Martin's voice started to break and he sounded not like a kid. No one was mistaking him for his mom when he answered the phone. I was still 5'4", sounded like a kid, and was hairless like a baby but I had the biggest Johnson. At first, I was kinda proud but then it was more of a problem than anything. Older boys said some girls liked it big though. It was five inches (don't say you haven't measured it, all boys do) while flaccid and over the navel when erect. So I was wearing a Speedo swimsuit under all my clothes to hide it.

Anything above the presents of puberty we had to make ourselves – muscles, agility, and a good basketball game. We were practicing a lot – an hour every day at the school gym. That's beside me and Zigi competing against each other in my backyard. There my Dad years ago had made a hoop above the garage door. It was for my sister Audra when she was twelve. Dad attached another hoop on the wall later much lower for me while I was six then and failed to hit Audra's hoop. This lower hoop was now used by my twin brothers. Zigi and I were running laps every morning before school. That was first to the bridge over the Stroudwater River. Later to Christchurch and then back to the Cobb Avenue turn where our homes were. That made one mile. We did four laps every day Sunday included. We needed our muscles to grow. We were doing exactly that in the school's weight room together with some older boys. Zigi's Dad had a rupture a couple of years ago and was ‘forced' into lazy dog mode. If I had a rupture like he, I wouldn't be able to work in the weight room for months and not be allowed to play in the game. With being now the middle of October it meant I'll be back in New Year if I was lucky.

 

 

Dad delivered me to the nurse at our city hospital ER.

"I don't believe it's a hernia," he said to her. "Take his blood for screening. Include PSA test please."

And then he left. The nurse took me to the waiting area that was behind the screen and made me change into that ugly gown with my back exposed.

"Lie down on the bed while I take your blood. Doc will be here soon," she said and drew some blood into a vial.

Doc wasn't there yet while my Mom was here maybe five minutes later.

"Have you left Gedas and Minde alone?" I asked her. Those two were twins seven years younger than me and I had to pick them after my practice. There was my older sister Audra who was away for college. Not exactly studying. In an internship or something.

"Don't worry about the twins," Mom said, "I left them at Kowalski's," that's Zigi's home actually, we're next-door neighbors.

"How are you doing now?" she asked.

"There is a pain here," I pointed to my groin. It was a dull pain, my balls ached. I was ashamed to tell my Mom about this.

Some twenty minutes later, Doc came in and the nurse rode the trolley with the ultrasound device on it. Doc prodded and poked my belly and bellow. Then again he asked me to cough and asked "Does it hurt?" It didn't. It was a dull pain and I said so. He asked then if it was painful to pee. Or maybe I'd noticed blood in my urine or maybe I'd noticed something strange in the way I peed? For all his questions I had only one answer ‘no' while there was nothing special here.

He put some goo on my belly and started stroking an ultrasound adapter over it while he stared at the monitor. He said nothing and sighed a couple of times. Afterward, he asked the nurse to clean the goo and then turned his stare to my penis and balls.

"When did the growth spurt start?" he asked.

"Somewhat in summer," I replied, "I hadn't noticed it before the fourth of July."

"Is your penis erect almost all the time?"

"How do you know that?" I asked in shock. I was embarrassed that it was so big not to mention that it was trying to pop to attention constantly.

"I assume the answer is ‘yes' then," the Doc said. I nodded. I didn't want him or anyone else to stare at or touch my penis. It was because of the same reason it might suddenly wake up and stand erect and embarrass me. It was good that the Doc didn't touch it though he examined my testicles (I guess I've named my balls right).

"When did this appear here?" he asked pointing at a dark brown spot on my sack.

"I don't know when," I replied, "I'd noticed it the first time when all this growth started. Isn't it a birthmark?"

"No, it isn't," Doc replied. "Does it hurt or itch or something?"

And again the only answer was ‘no'. Then Doc scratched that spot with a sort of little knife and put what he got into the vial. When he scratched there was that bad smell, the same one I had last week while peeing and I said it to the Doc.

"Why didn't you tell me when I asked?" he reproached.

"You've asked about unusual things and urine never smells like roses."

Doc and Mom both chuckled at this. "Actually, it smells like roses compared to this thing," Doc said.

"So what is wrong with my son?" Mom inquired.

"One thing I know for sure," he said, "your husband was right – it's not a hernia."

"What then?" Mom insisted.

"I have some suspicions but I'll not discuss them before I get the full blood test. And I need the cytological investigation of the tissue samples that I have collected. I'll have some preliminary results in a couple of hours." Doc said. "Let's meet here at eight. Meanwhile, Lin will stay under observation."

 

 

I was put into a room on the third floor. The room was very small and it had a bathroom shared with another room. The nurse said I wasn't allowed to eat and even my drinking was limited. I got half a cup of herbal tea for dinner and nothing more. Both my parents were here before eight. Mom was sitting on the only chair available while Dad was leaning against the windowsill. It was obvious both of them were very nervous, the same as I was.

The doctor came into the room at eight sharply.

"Hello everyone," he started. "As I've mentioned before it's not a hernia. It's most probably prostate cancer. The blood test and some other investigations show it. I say most probably because, for the final statement, an MRI scan is needed. The surgery with post-op biopsy is mandatory. Our MRI scanner is out of order and what about the surgery I'm not sure I'm eligible for it because of Lin's age."

"Wait a minute Doc," Dad interrupted. "Are you sure about cancer?"

"First, you were the one that suggested the PSA test, weren't you?" Doc replied.

"It was because Lin's cough test was negative," Dad said.

"Well, I've noticed the same. Back to PSA – it's 27 and it shows stage T3. T3 indicates migration possibility. When the tumor isn't touching the urethra no urination dysfunctions are observed. Erectile dysfunction and scrotum skin and shaft necrosis - it's another clear indication".

I knew that word with a necro part in it from somewhere and it was a corpse or something and it sure scared me to death.

"Will I die?" I asked.

"No, you will not," Doc said, "but you need surgery urgently. It would be better if it was yesterday."

"Back to surgery," Dad said, "you say…"

"Wait! I haven't finished," Doc interrupted. "As I said I'm not the best choice for surgery because of Lin's age. Well, I can do it, but there is a much better solution. Doctor Harrison Brody has a child cancer clinic in Boston. It is some hundred miles away. I've called the clinic already and I've discussed this with Doctor Brody personally. He confirmed they had successfully cured even younger patients with prostate cancer. They are ready to take Lin to their clinic."

"Why Boston?" Dad was stunned. "With so many hospitals in Portland…"

"Don't you want the best for Lin?"

"When we are supposed to bring Lin there?" Mom asked.

"Not you," Doc replied. "You sign all forms I have in this folder and we take him immediately to Boston in an ambulance. One of you may go with Lin. Or you both may follow the ambulance in your car."

 

 

The adults left for the doctor's office to review and sign all forms. I was alone in the room for a couple of minutes and then the nurse came in and two orderlies rolled a gurney into the room.

"Do I need to get on this?" I nodded toward the gurney.

"Yes, you do," one of the orderlies replied, "and we pick you up. Don't stand up."

He and the nurse grabbed the bed sheet at my head side and another orderly at my feet.

"On count three," the nurse said and they ensured they had grabbed the sheet's corners firmly. "One, two, THREE…"

I was lifted and put almost gently on the gurney. Then the nurse covered me with a blanket. One of the orderlies fastened three straps across the gurney. The nurse tucked the blanket around me. There was no pillow. As the gurney's head end was raised slightly it wasn't the same as the pillow and I was trying to keep my head up.

"Lower your head," the nurse ordered, "in the car, there will be some blankets and a folded one is as good as a pillow."

I put my head down and orderlies pushed the gurney out of the room. They used a special elevator. No other people were available, there were just orderlies and nurses. On the first floor, I was pushed through the emergency room to the entrance. An ambulance was standing there at the door. The gurney was pushed inside through the rear door while I saw Dad climbing in through the side door. The first thing, he helped me to get more comfortable on the gurney.

As both doors were closed and the ambulance got in gear, the siren was turned on. At this instant, it dawned on me that my situation was more serious than I could imagine.

 

 

The siren was turned off after ten or fifteen minutes of the ride. I hoped Dad would say what was wrong with me and I expected him to say that everything will be OK. It didn't happen. Dad had a rule and he taught us the same rule – never tell a lie, better to remain silent but don't lie. He was silent now. I was a kid but I wasn't stupid, that meant there was nothing good to say.

I knew what cancer was. There was the fifth member in our group – Trevor, besides Martin, Jack, Zigi, and me. Trevor's Dad was coaching us as the second coach when we were in Junior High. Two years ago, Trevor's Mom got cancer somewhere in the female parts. She was gone three months later after we knew she was sick.

Now the same had happened to me. Will I be gone in a few months too?

 

 

The ride to Boston lasted about two hours. I was strapped to a gurney and I couldn't look through the window. I wouldn't have seen anything anyway because it was night. The gurney was hard and, even with a folded blanket under my head, I felt every even slight shake as a punch. Add to this the fact that I rode in complete silence. Dad wasn't talking to me and all this time I was alone with my thoughts about cancer and death.

I didn't know what waited for me in Boston but I was happy when the ride was over at last.

 

 

Memories about Trevor's Mom were coming to me again and again. As there were no other things to keep my head occupied, those memories were bothering me. The last time I'd seen her alive was three weeks before she'd passed away. That person had some resemblance with Trevor's Mom I'd known before. It was a completely different person though.

Later, I did remember Trevor's baby sister. Maybe not exactly a baby – Mandy was two years younger than Trevor, so she was nine when her Mom was gone. I remember it was hard for Trevor's Dad and even harder for Trevor. Then there was Mandy. She was a tomboy like my sister Audra. Audra was six years older than me so they weren't friends. Mandy was usually hanging out with Trevor and eventually with Zigi, Martin, Jack, and me. We were her only friends because there were no more tomboys in the neighborhood.

Mandy cried non-stop during the funeral. Afterward, she was crying whenever I was visiting with Trevor. There was no one and nothing she could hug. I had a stuffed penguin and I was taking it with me to bed till I was ten. It was still dear to me but after some consideration, I brought it to Mandy. It worked. Trevor said later that Mandy was carrying the penguin everywhere with her and even taking it to bed at night.

I had no occasion to see how it worked in practice. Some two weeks, later Trevor moved to another neighborhood. Both Trevor and Mandy went to another junior high. There was some teasing that Mandy and I were BFFs and that we were sharing our dolls. The teasing died shortly after Trevor moved away.

 

 

At the hospital in Boston, my gurney was pushed into an examination room where Dr. Brody was already waiting for me. He examined my groin and asked almost the same questions I was asked before. I was pushed into another examination room with some noisy equipment. I discovered later that it was the MRI scanner. I was put onto the moving tabletop and it slid inside that scanner. I was left inside for almost thirty minutes and all this time various parts moved around me noisily. Then I was pulled out and put on a gurney again and pushed back into the examination room.

Dr. Brody and Dad shortly came in and the doctor showed some pictures I didn't understand.

"The good news is," Doc started, "the urethra isn't affected. The affected parts are the prostate, scrotum, shaft, and left superior pubic ramus. The last is one that caused sharp pain during the workout."

"Are you sure those are the only places with cancer?" Dad asked.

"No, I'm not. Those are places with the most expressed tumor." Doc replied. "I'm more than sure during surgery to find a bunch of minor hotbeds."

"So is Lin suitable for surgery?"

"Yes. Of course! About surgery though: one part is mandatory and another – is optional. The mandatory part is removing of prostate. scrotum, and penis. We'll cut the affected part of the hip bone and remove all possible tumor hotbeds we will find. This part will take up to six hours."

"So long?"

"With both lymph nodes and bones affected it may take up to sixteen hours. So it really isn't so long. An optional part is a vaginal construction using the graft from the pelvic area. It will take another one or two hours."

"Is this needed?" Dad was something confused.

"No. But…" Doc sighed heavily. "It would be part of surgery to eliminate the life-threatening condition and covered by insurance. If it is done now. So it will be free for you. Doing the surgery later will cost you like other plastic surgery starting from seventy-five grand and up."

"Maybe we'll decide not…"

"Wait… All male parts will be removed and testosterone blockers will be prescribed. So, no matter what you decide and even without HRT Lin will develop as a female. Without HRT, he would look like a prepubescent girl with smallish breasts. His hips will grow wider and his waist visually will seem narrower. He will never be and he will never look like male again."

"Why blockers if the testes are removed?"

"Prostate cancer is androgen-dependent. Some amounts of testosterone derivatives are produced outside of the testicles in the adrenal glands."

"Will I be turned into a girl?" I asked. They were talking to each other and seemed have forgotten that they were talking about me.

"I prefer to say you'll GROW into one," Dr. Brody said with the stress on ‘grow'.

"How will I survive it?"

"Let's think first about the ‘survive' part, OK? ‘How' will come naturally later," the doctor said.

"So when is the surgery?"

"Now! Or to be more exact, after your Dad signs all the necessary forms." Dad nodded his head ‘yes' and they both left the room.

 

 

The doctor left the room with Dad. As they went out, a nurse came in. She came over to where I was and smiled down at me.

"Hi, Lin. My name is Diana and I need to get you ready for surgery." Just having someone talk to me and not about me made me feel good. "Now, some of what I need to do is going to be uncomfortable and a little embarrassing, but don't worry. I'm only here to help you."

She pushed my gurney into a small room that looked like a bathroom that was just off the examination room. I was lying on my side with my bare behind sticking out. Diana kept up a constant chatter of talk as she did things, but I really was not paying attention to what she was saying. I was feeling a bit relaxed because of her talking, but my attention snapped back into focus when she swabbed my butt and started to slide a tube inside of me.

"Just relax," Diana said, soothingly. "We need to do this so that the doctor can operate safely. Just listen to me and relax."

She kept on talking about all kinds of things and I only jumped a little bit when lukewarm water started flowing into me. By the time it stopped, it felt like there was a gallon of water inside of me. Diana kept talking and patting my head and that helped some to deal with some of feelings I had to wanted to get rid of the water. After a couple of minutes, she helped me climb off of the gurney and over to commode. Once I was in position, Diana pulled the tube out of me and I was able to let the water out, accompanied by a series of embarrassing sounds. Once I was finished, Diana cleaned my body with a warm wet cloth and helped me to change into another gown.

The last thing she did was to put a kind of plastic shower cap over my head that looked like one I'd seem Mom wearing once. Then she had me lay down on the gurney again before wheeling back to the examination room where Dad was already waiting for me.

The simple washing of my guts had exhausted me completely. Before, I was eager to stand up and sit on the chair. And now… Now I was happy to lay on a gurney and not move.

Dad reassuringly squeezed my shoulder. At the same moment, a monk entered the room wearing a white stole embroidered with gold.

"Niech będzie pochwalony…" said the monk (Blessed be the Lord - Polish).

"Now and forever," replied Dad.

"Amen," I said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've guessed you are Polish," the monk apologized.

"I understand a little, but Lin doesn't," Dad said.

I was an altar boy in our church. That's primarily a Polish church. So I knew what that monk had said by the way.

"You've asked for me personally, so I assumed…" the monk started.

"Yes," Dad confirmed. "I've seen you a couple of times in our church, St Louis in Portland. Here at the hospital, I was given a choice and I selected you."

"I see… Would you please leave us alone," the monk turned to Dad.

"Sure," Dad said and left the room.

"Don't worry, son," Monk said, "Dr. Brody's patients tend to survive his surgeries." I could tell that he was trying to be funny, but it did not help much.

The confession followed and now I was really scared. I knew from books and movies what priests and monks were doing in hospitals. And why they were doing what they did. Before I was confessing like a kid – nothing serious. What could be serious in a kid's life? This confession I took as an adult. It was for all my life. I knew from Sunday school I was given the chance to stand in front of the Lord without a sin.

The problem was I didn't want to stand. It was probably a sin too and I confessed it to the monk.

"The Lord sees your soul and understands your fears more than anyone else. The fear you feel helps you appreciate the gift of life you are given."

I was in such a state that I didn't hear what I was told. I was in a state of dizziness. The next thing I remembered Dad was back in the room. He was kneeling while I was given Communion and then anointing was applied.

When I was rolled out from the room, I heard Dad say "I'll pray for you Lin."

 

 

To be continued