At the age of 58, I went to see my urologist for a prescription refill. Before filling it, he told me he wanted to check my prostate. When the exam was over, he said, “I’m very sorry to tell you this, but I felt a suspicious lump, and we need to schedule you for a biopsy.” I left the office terrified.
A month and many sleepless nights later, my biopsy confirmed I had prostate cancer. After much deliberation and prayer, I went to the University of California, San Francisco Medical Center to have my prostate removed via robotic surgery.
The first indignation to face after surgery was the loss of urinary control. I was leaking through my diaper and wetting my clothing a minimum of three times a day, so I refused to leave the house. I was also coping with the second distressing effect of prostate surgery--the loss of erectile functioning, commonly referred to as ED. After a month of living in diapers and coping with ED, I came to the conclusion that surgery had ruined my life forever. I sank into a deep and dark depression.