“The Cancer Stick (For Those Diagnosed With Cancer), Aspen Wood, Arizona” 57 inches tall, (c) Stu Jenks 2020.
Price: $250, shipping included in the price. Simply contact me via my email address at stujenks@gmail.com or Facebook message me, if you would like to purchase one of my pieces. Payments can be made with Paypal, Venmo or credit card with Square. All pieces are signed with its title, and can be hung from the wall. Love y'all, Stu.
"My wife Alexa hates this piece but I don’t blame her. I have prostate cancer. It hasn’t spread to my bones but it needs to come out. She frightened that her husband will die sooner rather than later. I am too, but it is what it is. I might have already had the surgery by the time this piece goes up on the StuBlog. Pray hard that everything down there continues to work, that they can save one of the big nerves, and that Alexa and I are OK. I’m not big on prayers of intersession but at times like this, I’ll make an exception."
The above paragraph was written in early April of 2020, a month after I made this piece. On April 28th I had radical prostatectomy surgery, during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. I'll get to the specifics of my surgery later when I write about my doctors, but today I just want to talk about what it's like to be diagnosed with cancer.
It sucked.
My prostate cancer, by the time we found it, was very advanced. Gleeson score of 8. Major fears that it had spread to my bones and lymph nodes. Many worries that I would be incontinent and/or sexually impotent. That second visit with Dr. Levin after the biopsy, when he told me what I had was just horrible. The sad look on his kind face. The need to move quickly on this, he said. The feeling of all the blood leaving my face when he said it was bad.
This stick isn't about just me, but goes out to all who have had to face the fear of life-ending cancer. My father and my sister died of cancer, Dad from an odd interstitial rib muscle cancer, Pamela from breast cancer. I was there for both of them as they died, but I didn't know what it felt like until I knew what it felt like.
To those of you out there who are fighting cancer, or who have recovered from cancer, or who simply live with cancer, this stick is for you. For me. For us.
P.S. Almost a year post-surgery, I'm doing pretty much OK. My PSA, which should be 0.01 is 0.14, which isn't great. We will keep an eye on that. It means there is still a tiny bit of cancer down there, but my lymph nodes have been removed so it won't spread and maybe at some point, in a year or two, I might need a touch of radiation. And best of all, I pee just fine and Mr. Happy is still happy.
P.P.S.: During April, May and June of 2020, when my recovery was at times both painful and scary, many friends brought food and love and kindness to me, both IRL and on Facebook. I truly can't thank you enough. You know who you are.
#cancerstick, #cancer, #stujenks, #extendedfamilyseries.