Feb. 1 - Metanoia in Posso's Prompts

Metanoia (n) : a transformative change of heart, especially : a spiritual conversion (Merriam-Webster)

When I found out that I had testicular cancer, the immediate reaction was, well, shit. I have so many things I want to do as a 27 year old that I’m not sure will be impacted if I have to quit working, start chemotherapy, or just survive in general. Another reaction was, why is this happening to me? I feel that’s probably a common immediate thought for anyone that is diagnosed with cancer, but I just had never thought that for me, at least, it’d be an option until I was old and shriveling away. How was this going to affect wanting to find a wife and possibly having a family? Already being self conscious about my stomach smacking into my girlfriend while having sex, just how much smaller is my flaccid mini corn dog going to get? (Yeah, I might be rough on myself, but it literally looks like a mini corn dog if you gnawed off the breading tip.) Was I being punished because I mocked everyone that believed that if they pray enough they won’t have cancer? Was I cursed by someone that I had already hurt? It’s amazing how irrational and irregular common thoughts and functions become when you’re presented with life altering events.

The only option and answer for me at the time was to distract myself from how I felt by becoming the eyesore in our friends social outings. I’d have a biopsy in the morning and be stitched up and later that night chug whiskeys downtown and walk home, bleeding profusely and wonder why I didn’t hurt until the next day. The turning point in realizing that I was being a fucking dolt in taking care of my body in battle was when a once dear friend made a visit to Madison that her and I had been looking forward to immensely. At the time, I was having consistent problems with infections inside my groin and the incision sites from my orchiectomy (testicle removal.) My groin muscle was essentially gone and basically I was a hollow cavern. I was restricted on weight lifting and was recommended that I use necessary caution while having sexual activity. This was not going to stop me in my pursuit of at least cuddling with my gorgeous friend.

The time came when Carole got to town and I was excited but also drugged up and in a good amount of physical pain. I figured if we could get the drunk, fun, socially pleasing and amusing version of Posso out for the night that I could battle through the fact that I should probably not have been out in public in the first place. My friends, including Hiram, Ben and others along with Carole bounced around bars on the Capitol square and we caught up on years of lost time between college and 2014. Carole and I were very close in college, and our relationship was more of a brother/sister caring for one another. If she called upset, crying, I’d almost always drop whatever I was doing to go to her and try to make her feel safe, comfortable. At the time of her visit, I was not in a good head space. Would you be if you were battling cancer, no matter the severity? Obviously, I was stubborn as always and tried to do a lot of it myself (I waited to tell my parents about my testicle removal until after the surgery, which to this day I still hear about how terrible of a son I am for it) Well, our night out led to getting drunk and letting all the feelings out, and she was adamant that she wanted to sleep with someone; it had been awhile. Well, this guy, the walking time bomb he was, decided that was an open invite for more than just cuddling. As I reached the black out point, I had to have said more ignorant and stupid childish garbage and the next thing I know, I am running home after just having been cut open again that day. Mind you, at this point I’m a trained paramedic, knowing I am being a fucking absolute dummy. Ripping stitches out and bleeding through my boxers into my jeans. At one point I was throwing a tantrum because everyone had come back and Carole and Hiram had been together and I decided that meant that he wasn’t my best friend and she was cheating on my friendship. I threw a water bottle into my wall and it stuck half way in the drywall. There was screaming and yelling and a multitude of obscenities until the whiskey took hold and the bleeding stopped and I passed out.

That was the last time I’ve seen Carole to this day. It’s been almost five years since that happened. She left the next morning before my hungover pile of bones could see her. I attempted a feeble and wasted apology. Her response was one I won’t and still haven’t forgot; You need help. There are things in your head that you can’t help yourself. Get help and apologize to me when you mean it. Regret was definitely something I felt for a long time. She never has gotten the caring friend apology she’s deserved and in my head I just think that I missed our time. Carole got married, has a good job and I can only imagine I’m an afterthought in the realm of friends that come and go instead of what should have been a permanent long lasting friendship.

You’d think the lesson of this story would be a emotional change, a spiritual awakening of sorts. Nah. What I have come to realize, especially in 2019 so far, that is if I have taken alcohol out of my life, I have not had the opportunity to make bad decisions without thought. There has been a plethora of self reflecting and it’s quite easy to realize that without the booze, I don’t put myself in situations where I implode, where I make things as bad as they possibly can be. Although, I’m giving up drinking for the year, I think that if I can keep finding other ways to express myself without having to take the path that results in more self harm, that eventually I will have a drink or two with friends in the future. My change of heart has to be true and validated; it has to mean something to me internally and emotionally for it to matter. As of now though, alcohol being removed as an escape from reality has made dealing with reality actually easier. Sure, we can laugh and read the hundreds of stories I have where alcohol has been involved and they are usually entertaining (or full of sighs, facepalms, and eyerolls) but, you know what? I don’t have to be entertaining to everyone all the goddamn time. Time to let others that are figuring their shit out come forward with bad decisions and questionable actions, so we can read, discuss, reflect and get them going on a better path too.

Somehow, some way, I would love to speak to Carole again. Knowing clearly it is on me, I’ve had plenty of time to draft the apology I am capable of and one she definitely is deserving of. Hopefully someday soon I’ll get the courage to reach out and make peace with another drunk fuck up.