I struggled with retaining control,
keeping focused and getting the job done. Sometimes it was a success and
sometimes I went through the paces without much enthusiasm. At times I was able
to confuse my brain by changing the circumstances. Sex in the afternoon or in
the living room could be distracting enough to make me forget who I was or what
I was going through.
If I was distressed before I
went to sleep, it often carried over to the morning and that was a hopeless
time to try and have sex. These “stress attacks” would range from regrets about
things I hadn’t done, opportunities I hadn’t taken and things I wouldn’t be
able to do in the future. I woke up so tense it would have been like trying to
have sex with a driving instructor on her fourth can of Red Bull.
By
March things got better. My brain declared a détente. I no longer felt that
every twinge in my body meant I was seconds away from death. While terms were
being negotiated, there was a relaxation of the siege, and I could divert some
attention back to basic gratification. Normal relations resumed. But we were
about to face the next hurdle.
At the end of
May, a couple of weeks after my first high dose chemotherapy, my hair
disappeared almost completely from my head, and my sexual appetite went along
with it. Although Alex thought the almost total loss of pubic hair was sexy,
the fact that I looked in the mirror and saw an aged balding woman offset any
chance of being aroused by this idea. The disease had won this round. I handed
over command central once again.
June was full of
needles, doctor’s visits and pre-admission hospital tests. My mind was too full
of real life to make room for fantasies. I didn’t initiate sex all month.
But on July 12th
when I was being admitted for my stem cell transplant I suddenly felt bad that
we hadn’t had sex recently. Those feelings that I experienced in December came
flooding back. Sex was a way to feel
alive. If the transplant went horribly wrong we might never have another
chance. I wanted to pull him close again but it was too late.
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