Autoerection

Wednesday, 16th August 2023, Part 1

Warning: Language and themes not for the feint of heart.

Imagine the scene. You’re sitting in the office of a Senior Nurse Practitioner. You’re with a woman, who’s come along for support. She’s neither your girlfriend nor your wife. The subject is cancer. Serious stuff. The Nurse, he’s older than me, is larger than life, funny, personable, with a touch of Paul O’Grady. We have established an excellent rapport, doing what in the old days was called banter, now-a-days is called political incorrectness. For example, we were talking about my multiple blood tests and venesections (a pint of blood is removed and discarded every two weeks in order to effectively thin the blood, the carrier liquid is reproduced by the body quicker than the blood cells) ‘I haven’t had so many pricks in me since Boarding School,’ I said … Guffaws all round.

That was a joke. Despite going to an all-male ‘70’s British Public School, I didn’t ….. why do I feel I have to justify myself???

The context of prostate cancer (outside of it killing you) is testosterone blockers and the effect they have on the body. Specifically, on sexuality. Not a subject that most human being are comfortable discussing in company. Not without a drink, anyway. I am at ease.

The nurse, let’s call him Nick, at ease with a spade being called a spade, funny and visual with his gestures. A clenched fist at the end of a quickly rising forearm, pivoting at the elbow, leaves no room for doubt that the topic of conversation is erections. Or lack of them. ED in the technical parlance. Erectile Dysfunction. I have no idea if my erectile is dysfunctional or just absent in that I haven’t had one since April. The thoughts are, ahem, still there, the eyes still appreciate, but not to any degree that might have caused a stirring. So, I haven’t tried to Awaken the Giant Within, as Anthony Bourdain would say. (He wouldn’t, he was a chef. Anthony Robbins.) Absence of activity might well be the same as inability of activity. Maybe I should give it a go.

And here’s where it became awkward / funny / bizarre, all of the above. Nick turned to my companion and started to talk about how the lady can, er, help and contribute to the rehabilitation of the libido.

‘It’s not that sort of relationship,’ she said.

Former Royal Navy, former girlfriend of mine, not easily fazed and certainly not by talk of elections. Elections? God bless autocorrect. Correction Defections.) Erections.

Nick, unfazed too, continues as if she hadn’t spoken. He has obviously taken one look at the two of us, the ease with which we exist in each others’ company, the familiarity, and made his own decisions. Nick continued with his married couples’ advice on sexual rehabilitation. She smiled politely. And, did I mention we’re not married? Not even girlfriend / boyfriend?

Now, here’s the thing.

I wish we were.

Real life doesn’t stop because of cancer.