My Ball is…Missing 

Before I start the barage of information in this post, I need to thank people. I need to thank everyone who has sent me messages of support. Thank you to everyone that has helped me out this week with scheduling for work, for the kids, and for helping me feel less anxious. Thank you to the doctors and nurses at university of Vermont Medical Center for taking good care of me. Most importantly, thank you to my wife, who was by my side up until she couldn’t be, and then again right when I woke up. I wouldn’t be able to get through this as well as I am without her with me. Alaina, you da bomb, babe.

I am home resting from my surgery. The doctors have me on a low level narcotic for pain. I hate narcotics. I hate them so much. When  I broke my hand a few years back, I  refused to take them (even after the Dr.’s rebroke it to set it in place.) Its hard to think clearly with a dull fog around you. Looking at the stitched up incision on my groin though,  I have agreed to take my medicine until at least tomorrow night. Also, looking at the incision I can’t help but notice the fact that I look like I haven’t hit puberty yet. 


This has been one of the weirdest days of my life. Last night kicked it  off with no eating or drinking after midnight. Being so tired from not sleeping well this week, I collapsed in the bed at 9:30. So when I woke up this morning at 3:30, arrived at the hospital at 6:00, and finally woke up from the anesthesia at 10:00, I had not drank or eaten and I needed some goddamn coffee. In fact, the first thing I said to Alaina (which I barely remember) was “Hey lady, I need a fucking coffee.” 

Before I was put under, I was carefully examined by a number of nurses. They all asked the exact same set of questions. I understand they want to be thorough, but after answering for the 11th time, “Yes, I am having my left testicle removed.” I almost wish they told me I was wrong.



Staying positive was key to not freaking the hell out right before they wheeled me into the OR. It helped too. I went in with a BP of 126/84 (stellar from what I’ve been told). I’ve seen enough episodes of Greys Anatomy to know what an OR looks like, but actually seeing the tables and instruments up close made my anxiety boil up. As soon as I was on the operating room table, my positivity wained. Thoughts of death, darkness and infinity played roulette in my mind. I was about to leave my unconscious body in the hands of people I barley knew and trust that they wouldn’t kill me by accident. The last thing I remember thinking as I met the Doctor’s eyes was how much I love my life. The ups, the downs. Every single fucked up turn it can take. I love it. I love my children and my wife and if I don’t get to experience life with them again, I’m going to be fucking pissed. 

And then blackness…I think. 

Blackness like coffee. Coffee that I so desperately wanted as soon as I regained consciousness. From somewhere in my mind I could hear my voice. It felt like I wasn’t attached to it. Like I was waiting down a hall listening to myself talk. I was trying to tell a joke to he nurse about cannibalism. Then I was telling her all about the ocean at Gold Bluffs and how I wanted to go back. And how I really needed some coffee. All the while my voice was slowly starting to match up with my mind. She made a deal with me. If I drank some ginger ale and stopped swearing, she would get me some coffee. 

That was the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. 
Slowly I was opening and closing my eyes. Each time I did something was different. For the longest time I couldn’t decide where I was or what I was doing. I felt like I had been on an all night bender. At one point, I opened my eyes and saw my wife standing over me. Then, my wife and my mother. Then, my mother and my father. Before I had gone in, I had only expected to see Alaina by my side. It was comforting having my parents there though. Strange places are more familiar when shared with people who love you.


The rest of the day I have been in and out of sleeping. Urinating with  gauze surrounding my dick was an odd adventure. Now that it’s around 8pm, I’m fully out of the anasthesia and able to walk with out much help. I’m expecting to be  in bed for the next 2 days…shit.

Time for the question that’s been on your mind. Yes, I did touch it. One testicle in my body feels very weird. 

The doctors had told Alaina that it was in fact a cancerous tumor on my testicle. Within the next two weeks I will be seeing my doctor again. From there, we’ll be able to see if he was able to takd it all out. If it had spread, I will need chemo. There is a 25% chance that it spread. 

I’m confident that no matter what, I will beat this.

Thank god for modern medicine.
-AF 

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