Prostate-cancer-cure
Father turning in to blob. Testosterone seeping out of his pores, never to return. Poison dislocating testosterone, forcing its secretion through dick – the irony is lost on him. This is what turning unmanly looks like. This is bio-feminization of man.
He tries to fight it. He rides his bike, long rides. He runs. He do handy work, manly work. He lifts heavy things. But he tires easily.
Memory getting foggy. Sweets are only thing on mind. Sugarcraving all day. He’s fattening like factory farmanimal.
Sweating like woman in menopause. Horrible to witness. Cannot endure any stress, starts sweating.
“It could have been worse” doctor said “not deathsentence” doctor said.
There must be different way. Cancer must be fought with other means. Cancer better than this? Perhaps... probably.
Not same person left after poison-injection.
Is this healthcare? Is this cure?
First do no harm?
No man left, no father left. Empty, sweating, foggy-minded blob shell is what they leave us with. Is this man my mother fell in love with. Is this man I should admire, respect?
He’s doing his best, he fights it, he don’t want to succumb, but it’s inevitable. He is changing, all of him is changing.
Other man he met sold huntingrifle due to suicidal tendencies because of side-effects of poison-injection.
It’s potentially hereditary. Is this me in thirty years. I will suicide, I will find alternative, I will ride cancer to death. I will not be blobbified by poison meds.
I will fuck my cancer ridden prostate to rectification or die trying.