Before I had my total pelvic exenteration in May 2019, I was told I would lose my rectum, anus, prostate, bladder, seminal vesicles, which make the sperm-carrying fluid. I was also told that it is the end of your sex life as I knew it, as my surgeon told me he would have to cut nerves in that region. At the time, my partner had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I was more worried about her than me, as I had hope of surviving, but she never did, as it has spread to her liver. She was diagnosed in January 2019, the day I finished chemo and radiation. I started out with neoadjuvant therapy and had my colostomy fitted on October 2018, a month after being diagnosed with rectal cancer.
So the last thing on my mind was having a shag, as it was the least of my priorities. I had bigger things to worry about that were about to come. I even left money to cover both our funerals in case I never came out the other side. Even after going into an induced coma for two weeks after my big operation and catching sepsis, E. coli, and pneumonia all at the same time, and every antibiotic failed, at the death I was offered a trial antibiotic drug from Australia that pulled me through. Anyway, it took me 8 weeks to crawl out of St. Mary's London instead of 4/5 as predicted. I came home by bluff and in a wheelchair, as they cut so many nerves I could hardly walk on a frame, but I knew I had to, as I knew Jacqueline, my partner from school, was getting weaker by the phone calls. Cut a long story short, I got home on July 10, 2019, and Jackie came down to my mum's bungalow, as I could not manage my stairs across the road where I lived. We spent the last two weeks together, literally "soul to soul," talking about the ifs, buts, and maybes. Then the pain was too much, and Jackie had to go into a hospice where she passed away peacefully on September 5, 2019.
The thing was, I was a long way off from being recovered, as the surgeon in London told me it takes up to 2 years to get anywhere near where you were before the operation. So I knew it was a long slog to go, and I had to get my head out of the shed too, not slip into a deep black hole of despair and depression. So I knew the only way was up and kept focused on that picture in my mind. It was hard but had to be done, or the other alternative was not worth thinking about.
So after about 2 years, I'm still struggling to walk normally, as the nerve damaged my right leg and muscles. Not to think about type 2 diabetes I came home with, as my kidneys also nearly packed up too. So I have to use a walking stick now if I have to travel a fair distance, not to mention the physical and mental scars and two more operations. One in October 2020 to remove a tumor on my right kidney, then another operation in February 2021 to remove another tumor in my upper left lung and a lymph node on my throat, in which the surgeon cut my left larynx nerve removing it. So now I can hardly raise my voice above a whisper until I get another operation shortly to improve it.
So after all that shit, I met an old flame from way back 25 years ago, and she told me she still loved me from when we split up. I moved on with Jacqueline, as we were all good friends back in the day. She told me she had not loved another man since or made love, so I felt a right cunt knowing that. She always hoped we would get back together. Wow, fuck me, I could not believe what I was hearing. Anyway, we started to hang out again, wine and dine, but not romantically, if you get my drift. She knew I had 2 man bags, but being a nurse for over 20 years did not faze her, as it was part and parcel of her job. So I felt comfortable with her at all times, but secretly felt guilty pleasure inside, as I still had my partner on my mind and in my heart.
So after 6 months, I bought a motorhome, as she had a camper and I suppose talked me into it. But I have no regrets, as I thought I might. I even wished I had one years ago, but it's never too late to start. So we went on a few adventures and fooled around, but things always ended up with loads of foreplay but no sex, as I could not produce the bazooka every time, even though in my mind I thought I could. I think it was more disappointing for me than her, as she was not bothered, she would say. But I know 100% if she felt a big boner poking in her back, she would be more than happy to accommodate it any which way, but can I know!
So now I'm at a crossroads. Do I resign myself to the fact I'm married to God now and no more sex until the day I die, live like Richard Chamberlain in the "Thorn Birds," a priest? Or do I go to my urologist and get an implant you pump up made by Coloplast or go for the penile injections that keep it hard as granite for 6 hours before it subsides?
I must stress I'm not in a relationship with my ex, but good friends, but not with benefits. We are just hanging out on a few road trips for now, living for the moment!
It's a big quandary. Any thoughts welcome?
Thx Adam