The Best Gift Ever

When you are sick, you get lots of gifts. My small room is overflowing with the physical manifestations of the generosity of my friends.

There are thousands of pages of books ranging from things I actually want to read (like the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, among many other things) to ironically donated over the top new age self help books. I love to read, so I’m super happy about my new library.

Some good books, Some other books
Some good books, Some other books

There are a few crystals on my windowsill… how Colorado. I’m not one to scoff at the supernatural power of rocks -oh wait, yes I totally am, it’s literally one of my favorite trolls on my Phish message board, but in times like these I will take what I can get when it comes to promises of healing energy.

I think this one wards of placebo energies
I think this one wards of placebo energies

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That Time When my Semen was on Everybody’s Mind

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 It takes a village…

One of the first questions that blurted out of my mouth after my doctor finished telling me I had Leukemia was: “Will I still be able to live a normal life? Can I have kids in the future if I choose to?”

He said “of course you can and I hope you do!”…he must be of my school of thought in that this would would be a far better place if there were several genetic copies of me running around. Basically I owe it to society to procreate, for the common good.

He also mentioned that chemo is going to absolutely nuke my sperm generators… my very own personal “deflate gate” (sorry if you are reading this after Superbowl XLIX and this term means absolutely nothing to you anymore, deal with it). This is where my awesome oncology social workers get to shine!

We got to work immediately. The team consisted of a gorgeous  young RN, my breathtaking social worker, an absolutely stunning endocrinologist and me. The three intimidatingly good looking, talented women stood around me in positions of authority and we discussed the logistics of how many times I could masturbate into how many plastic cups over a certain period of time. Look, I’m not trying to sound like a pig or turn this into a Penthouse Forum or anything, but  it was one of the more surreal moments of my life. It was basically the plot of a porn movie that was written by a 12-year old boy (aren’t they all kind of like that?). And no, I absolutely never made any jokes about “needing a little help” or anything, because A.) I have an amazing girlfriend who is all I will ever need in this regard B.) I have to work with these women, C.) I’m not a pig and D.) talk about low hanging joke fruit… about as low hanging as my fruit will be after chemo.. wah wah waaaaah.

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