Friday 7th September 2012 – No.4

Hello friends and readers.

Welcome to Cancer Weekly No.4  Better late than never. I hope you weren’t worried I’d kicked the bucket.

The good news is the catheter, which was the diameter of a drainpipe, has been removed and I no longer go everywhere looking like Dr Phibes with a bag of urine strapped to my leg. It also means I can pass through airport security without problems regarding fluids.

After nearly 3 weeks of that attachment I now enjoy my new freedom of movement but am engaged in a fight to control temporary incontinence. I find myself in the privileged position of being able to choose (or try to) between farting with or without wetting my pants at the same time. It’s all to do with the coordination between the Clacker Valve* and the bladder sphincter. In order to make this matter less messy whilst trying to regain control of the pelvic floor, I am armed with a box of Discreet Male Protective Pads (nappies) that I stick in the gusset of my newly purchased, large-size Y fronts. On the outside of the box it says “Now with new more masculine pack design”.

The adhesive strip on the nappies takes a bit of getting used to. On a couple of attempts I have managed to stick it to the end of my nob causing considerable pain in removal. I wonder why the glue has to be that strong? They are made in Sweden by masochists. However, although I could do without all this I do like to think that wearing a nappy makes me look younger.

Our fashion correspondent, nurse Xteen, says that Gucci’s marketing line for their spring 2013 collection will be “If you’re rich take the piss”.  Assuming the the urinary leg bag will not be in their collection, the Daily Twit design team have come up with a range of their own. If you know anyone with enough dosh to pay for an ad in Vogue it could be rather fun? A must for the glitterati fashionistas.

Walking down Mare St. the other day I saw a young man holding a sign made from a cereal packet saying “FREE PRAYER” (aren’t they all?). He asked how I was so I told him and he put his hand on my shoulder whilst his attractive assistant held my arm and he offered a first class prayer to God to bring me strength and good health. It was a strangely moving experience unhindered by any other agenda. I came away very happy. As I left tearfully he told me that during my healing process God may reveal himself to me. I rather hope he does. That evening I went to see the Pretty Things in the Eel Pie club and as I watched these old rockers I wondered how their prostates were. My friend Dr. Manic gave me a powerful Buddhist chant that I have to repeat, nam my-oho renge kyo!

Although returning to work is something for the future, with Loo Loo’s camera and direction we have made a number of films illustrating additional uses for the portable wee wee bag. One or 2 are not to everyone’s taste so maybe I’ll put them on Vimeo rather than in an attachment. I hope that in future they will be seen as educational and form part of a blockbuster show of cancer art and entertainment. I have also discovered that the discs of my PET and MRI scans contain some really great hidden images. With the right software these can be viewed in 3D. I’m hoping to meet the head of imaging dept at the hospital who has expressed interest in working with an artist. I’ll have to see if I can find one.

The next episode in this exciting drama occurs on 14^th Sept when I go to see the specialist team at UCLH for biopsy results, pathology report and the plan for future treatment. I have learnt through my previous experience of these meetings that a stiff upper lip could is useful. However, I’m having a Macmillan reflexology session beforehand so maybe by the time I get to them I’ll be cured.

Once again, many thanks to all who have added their good wishes to the great seething mass of positivity that has accrued. I am aware that candles have been lit, prayers prayed, chants chanted, offerings burnt and notes hung on trees of life. I really appreciate and believe it makes a huge difference. Also thanks for all correspondence received, much of which has been most illuminating. Dr Slim Lucas confirms my belief with the following – I hear from an informed friend that your theory about contracting cancer from Louise’s dog is very plausible one and that this is very common. Just as I suspected.

Also, just in case things downstairs don’t fully return to normal my brother in cancer Herr Heinz Krautberger has suggested I could join him in employment as a harem guard and nurse de la Hey points out that my 6 abdominal stigmata put me 2 up on Jesus.

Anyway I hope you are well wherever you are.

Love and nappies, Magnus xxx

* Thanks to doctor Davis for giving me the correct term for the anal sphincter.

Saturday May 5th 2012 – No 3

Hello again friends and readers.

Apologies for the impersonal message but the gender-bender pills have turned me into a woman and I have become short tempered and irrational. I am even wearing a dress as trousers are now most uncomfortable.

The DaVinci machine has done it’s best to get rid of this cancer and I’m sitting with my feet up minus a few bits I had last week. The operation took less than the scheduled three to four hours and my prostate which is the size of a walnut, was removed through a hole by my belly button. The same op is a lot quicker with the Jackson Pollock machine but the results tend to be less precise. Now I wait a month or so for the histology reports following biopsy of what was removed.

My stomach is shaven and dyed yellow and my penis and swollen right testicle are covered in a dark bruise. From the waist down I look like a Chinaman with a black man’s nob. I was wondering before the op about how many holes I would wake up with and it turns out to be six. Five for the instruments to go in and one for the plasticdrainage tube (like a toilet overflow which was 18 ins. long when they pulled it out) and one mystery hole.

There was much celebration in the ward as the assistant surgeon shared my delight in the return of my farting muscle which was noticably absent for a couple of days. This was followed by my first solid bowel movement which was almost white and smelt of flowers. On another occasion it could well have been ectoplasm. Finbarr reminded me of a great line from the white chapter in Moby Dick, “It’s the paleness of it that is so appauling”.

I managed to get discs of my PET and CT scans which are pretty sensational. I can scroll from the top of my head down to my feet in 350 cross-section photos. I’m also hoping to get slides of the diseased prostate as I’ve heard they are startling, coloured images. It could be an opportunity to salvage something beautiful from an ugly situation. My bruises have now matured delightfully and I hope to do some coloured self portraits. Should you care to join me in a life class I can recommend stocking up on orange, ochre, lemon yellow, Payne’s grey and several shade of aubergine

The catheter is a proper pain and has to stay there for a couple of weeks as it is also holding my urethra in place and can’t be removed until the internal stuff has healed. It’s not visible under my dress but it has been suggested that if worn on the outside it may make an interesting portable leg aquarium. Perhaps a couple of Siamese fighting fish – not Candiru.

I’ve been at Louise’s for a week and it occurred to me that it may be horrible to have a naked, bruised and scarred old man limping around her flat clutching a wee wee bag but she says it’s “lovely”. I wonder if this is a service that I can offer to a broader audience? Do let me know. I could enact scenes from Gormenghast in your own home for a small consideration. Great for dinner parties.

I read that scientific studies have proved that people who are prayed for after surgery have better results than those who are not, so if it’s not too much of a liberty perhaps I could ask those with faith to spare a minute or two. Once again, many thanks to everyone who has offered so much support and good wishes. It really helps and is a great compliment to the hard stuff.

There is no definite reason as to why one may contract cancer but in my case I’m pretty sure I got it from Louise’s dog.

Catheters akimbo

Luv Magnus xxx

Monday July 30th 2012 – No.2

Having just had a pre-op assessment and finding myself lighter to the tune of a few more pints of blood and wee wee, I am glad to be told that despite an abnormal ECG test there’s nothing wrong with me and I am the perfect candidate for surgery.

The good news is that the grandly titled Robotic Assisted Laparoscopic Radical Prostatectomy will take place on the 7^th August. The surgeon is Mr Nathan who has used this DaVinci machine before and is supposed to be quite good at it. He will operate it from a booth with hand controls like a games console. The photos of the robot show something looking like a mechanical octopus with 4 arms. 3 of them have cutting instruments and the other is a camera so with a bit of luck there should be a good film available soon. The surgical instruments enter via a number of portholes (ship ahoy!) cut in the abdomen and the snippers and tweezers are changed by the surgical assistant whilst the surgeon tries to improve his Super Mario Bros score. It all sounds rather wonderful but unfortunately I’m unlikely to see any of it.

The bad news is I’d just bought an air ticket to get me to the Weiterstadt film festival on the 9th and I can’t get my money back.

Sorting out appointments at the hospital appears to be a hit and miss affair. I’ve learnt to phone the chap who arranges all this in order to avoid delay. Once a date is made on the phone you later receive a letter of confirmation. These almost always turn up the day after you have attended the appointment. However, last week I got a letter telling me to come in on the 10^thOctober. Nobody appears to know why but it does say something for their faith in my longevity.*

The pre-existing dizzyness that has affected me for a couple of years has become worse (probably due to stress or gender-bender drugs) so I went to the Throat Nose and Ears hospital where I was given a few excercises including walking up and down stairs with my eyes closed. Doesn’t seem to help much but perhaps they think a broken leg will take my mind off other matters. I also had a tooth removed due to fracturing a root whilst chomping on all those bloody nuts and seeds. As I left the dentist my mouth was bleeding, I felt dizzy, it was pouring with rain and I reminded myself I also have cancer. Things can only get better.

One of the benefits of my condition is that I have no trouble with those horrid, happy young people that come bounding up on Mare St. hoping to sell me something or the other. When they cheerfully grin “Hey, how are you?” I reply “I’ve got cancer. How about you?” It’s cruel but it does the trick.

Many thanks to everyone who’s kept in touch and sent me all sorts of edifying advice including the beneficial effects of salvestrols, coffee enemas, vile tasting apricot kernels, slippery Elm powder, broken wall Chlorella and of course the Mediterranean Death Carrot. Do keep it up. Just the thought of them is a tonic. After the op I’ll be recuperating at Loo Loo’s place for a week or so. Visitors are welcome and I will be pleased to show my new scars and demonstrate the workings of my catheter and urinary leg bag.

I hope you are well wherever you are. Next week’s Cancer Weekly may be a bit late.

Luv Magnus x

* Arranging appointments can be a bit unpredictable. A couple of times I have received a last minute phone call telling me my appointment has been cancelled. I have also turned up for an appointment to be told it was cancelled weeks ago – “you should have received a letter you know”. Recently I successfully attended an appointment at the Pain Management Centre only to find a text on my phone that arrived whilst I was actually talking to the consultant informing me that my appointment had been cancelled and not to come in. Some appontment texts are accompanied by the information that if you (me) fail to attend it costs the NHS £137.