Precarity

Fifteen or so years ago, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. The biopsies revealed the tumor cells to be the slow-growing kind. After researching and consulting with experts, I opted for the “watch and wait” strategy. Last spring, my urologist informed me that the waiting period was over, and it was time to do something. A month ago — well, not quite, but almost — I had a radical prostatectomy. Believe it or not, this is an outpatient operation. You can’t drive yourself home, but you get to leave the same day. 

When I returned for my ten-day follow-up visit, the CT scan revealed some complications, which were not unheard of but unusual. My situation required an operation and a few days’ stay in hospital. When I came back a week later for my next appointment, I ended up spending one more night in the cancer center and having another procedure the following day.

I’ll spare you the clinical details and traumatic turns; suffice to say that there were a few genuinely harrowing moments along the way. The level of care I received was space-aged — robotic surgery and interventional radiology, top-notch, and consistently compassionate. 

It was never my plan to discuss this diagnosis publicly. The doc had said I’d be ready to return to seated work a week or so after the operation. Even so, I set aside a month. I thought this would allow time to catch up at my desk and even take a bit of vacation. I was finally past an exhausting year of recovering from chemo and radiation, feeling ready to jump back into a fuller teaching schedule come September. 

So much for the best laid plans. Once again. 

There is good news, and it is that I’m on the mend.

I am sore, tired, and relieved to no longer have any tubes sticking out of me. I’m ready to recuperate. My morning walk went slower than usual, but at least, I no longer look like some guy stumbling home after last call at the neighborhood dive bar. 

Even better, the initial prognosis is good. 

Mostly, I’m grateful: grateful to be back home, for the friends and neighbors who have looked after me with such care, and for having worthwhile, fulfilling work. I am hankering to be back on my bike and to get back to writing regularly. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to reflect on what matters most. I’m glad my assignment isn’t over yet and oh so thankful to be here still. 

To have the time needed to rest, recuperate, and reinvigorate, I’m postponing the start of the third trimester of my ATM® course, The Bodywise Project, and the beginning of BREATHING BETTER, the advanced program for Feldenkrais® trainees, teachers, and assistant trainers for three weeks. Once I’ve had a chance to clear my head from those three doses of anesthesia, all administered in less than a month, then we will work out new schedules and let everyone enrolled in the programs know the new plan. 

(If you were thinking about signing up and haven’t yet, you have more time to enroll. More on that soon-ish.)

If you’ve written, called, or messaged me in the past couple of weeks, I apologize for not getting back to you. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could give me a couple of weeks to get back to you.