Is it a phantom pain?
People who get their limbs chopped off experience ghost pains where their extremities used to be.
The funny thing is, I don't necessarily miss you. You were just always there, like the nails on my fingers, the scar on my hand, the tiny mole under my lip. You enjoyed attention every now and again... being tugged...being kissed...being licked.
It all happened so fucking fast. I found out the news, you were sick, you hadn't been yourself in a while and I hadn't noticed. The tumor spread and destroyed you. I lost you without even realizing it.
Surgery. A radical inguinal orchiectomy. WTF!
That should take care of everything. If shit has spread, well, one thing at a time.
I went to visit a friend at a bar and after several soothing whiskey gingers I told him my plight. I asked him if he had been with guys who had lost you. He said yes. Was this weird? No. It's totally fine. No big deal.
That night I promised myself all the things I wouldn't do if I could come out of it ok. I wouldn't do any more crazy drugs, no more white powder, no more multicolored pills, nothing ever again (I rolled last friday...woops!). Just let it be ok. I could grapple with the fact that I was going to lose you. There was no way out, really. But please, please, I didn't want to lose my hair. If I had, I would have flipped the fuck out.
I should've stayed in that bar for one more drink.
Days later, let the procedure begin. Scalpel. Yes. I'm making the incision. Let me reach in and scoop it out. Feeling around. There it is. Let's take it out. Got it! Now let's sow him up.
I woke up and you were gone. It seemed like it had all been a bad dream. Don't worry, we got it in time. You won't need any further treatment. Just routine checkups. The cancer is gone.
What a relief! No chemo!
I would have to have a brief recovery period but I could soon put it all behind me. Get up and brush myself off. Wait for the scar to heal. Just another battle wound. So happy to be alive.
Over a year later...
I rarely ever think about you. But it turns out I do. I think about you when I notice it's easier to cross my legs. I think about you when I undress. When I'm in the shower...I have to make sure your partner is ok (God, I'm so paranoid now of every little pain or weird sensation down there!). I don't really do trimming in that area because it will just make it more obvious you're no longer there and it would make me miss you.
You know, I really wish I would've taken some pictures. Pictures from before. Hot ones. In commemoration of you. I think it might have helped me deal with your loss.
This is the only picture I have after you were taken away. I think it's a week after.
I had trouble walking for a while.
I am left with just a scar.