My Balls Are Killing Me

Words Chris Robinson,
Pictures Andreas Hykade

 Each issue of Galaxy Brain Magazine will contain an instalment of Chris Robinson’s book, “My Balls Are Killing Me.”

You can read the first instalment HERE  

The second HERE 

The third HERE 

The fourth HERE.

The fifth HERE.

The sixth HERE.

The seventh HERE.

Chapter 12- Now to War

Mr. Pimp and Calypso on a ski lift. We see a mountain getting smaller behind them as the lift descends and finally reaches the “Cancer Lodge”

They dismount the lift and walk into the Cancer Lodge. Inside, the Lodge is like a log cabin. The staff are dressed in power blue toques, snow pants with suspenders, blue ski boots and they each wear loud, ugly wool blue sweaters with FUCK CANCER! on the front.

In the lobby are an assortment of patients. There are cyclists, football players, hockey players, musicians, artists, cooks, students, bankers, animators. In one spot, we see the profile of a black porkpie hat and a goatee.

Mr. Pimp and Calypso (who starts to flicker and dim a bit like a faulty light switch) approach the Cancer Lodge check-in. 

“Hi sir, how can I help you?”

“I have a reservation,” he says as he hands them his hospital card and a paper with Doctor Wizard Bob’s face on it.

“Thank you. Let me check the system.” He types into a computer and after a few seconds. “Ah, yes, you’ll be staying with us for nine weeks, three cycles. We have a very nice 1 ½ bedroom Chemo Cabin for you. It will feel like a home. It’s fully equipped. It has a beautiful backyard and front porch overlooking the Canal. There are many stores on sight for your various needs as well. There’s also a nearby pharmacy where you can go to collect your complimentary chemotherapy medicines. Oh…and also…I understand you expressed interest in preserving your semen.”

Calypso nods. Mr. Pimp, less so.

“Well the good news,” continues the Cabin Lodge Clerk, is that we have a special sperm bank fee coverage plan. We will arrange an appointment for you later today with the sperm doctor.”

“Here is your drug card for the various medications you’ll require to stave off some of the chemotherapy side effects. Those will be explained in your chemo class. But your cancer has a very high cure rate so there’s really nothing to worry about. Meantime, while we get your cabin ready, we just ask you to fill out your forms, then we’ll measure your height and weight.”

Mr. Pimp fills out forms.

Mr. Pimp steps on a weight scale

Mr. Pimp’s height is measured.

“So, before all the chemo sessions start, you’ll be meeting some doctors who will go over the treatment plan, then you’ll be taking 2 chemo classes with other patients. Meanwhile, if you’ll just have a seat in the lobby, someone will come to get you shortly. Please enjoy your stay.”

Mr. Pimp and Calypso take a seat in the lobby. As they feign watching the TV news channel, they overhear snippets of the goatee guy talking loudly to another patient. “I have lived most of life like a coward, never making my own decisions, always afraid of what might or might not happen. But it catches up with you eventually.”

Mr. Pimp continues looking around and spots some young kids. “Christ,” he thinks.

A lodge attendant arrives and escorts him to another room. Calypso remains in the waiting area. He looks back and sees her flickering while texting someone. Outside, red flags flap in the wind.

As he sits in the examination room, Mr. Pimp’s right hand begins to shake. Then his left hand. Then his entire upper body and soon his whole body is shaking uncontrollably throughout the room. His body feels flush and water begins to flood into the room… as the water rises, it starts to slow the shaking. Then just as the water fills the room, a door opens and a doctor enter. The room soon returns to normal and Mr. Pimp is back on the examination chair.

“Hi. I’m Doctor Circe, I’m your oncologist.”

Mr. Pimp sees Cardinal Barry fly behind them.

“No,” Doctor Circe says, “we treat cancer, not birds.” 

Doctor Circe continues to talk but Mr. Pimp barely hears. “BEP chemotherapy. Three cycles consisting on Bleomycin, Etoposide and Cisplatin. It’s highly Curable” 

“So I won’t die?” 

“Not yet,” says Doctor Circe. “The first week you’re in treatment for approximately four hours, 5 days a week. In week 2 and 3, you only have a single, approximately three-hour, session per week. 

As she speaks, Doctor Circe approaches grabs his remaining testicle like a stress ball. He lets out a scream. “Just making sure there’s no new lumps.” 

Blood test 

X-ray

Ctscan

–

Mr. Pimp gets in line at the Sperm Bank. Strangely, it looks like any old bank.  There are a few men in front of him in line. There is a half dozen tellers behind a long counter.

 Eventually, he goes to the next available teller. 

“Hi, are you making a deposit or withdrawal today?” asks the teller.

“I’d like to make a deposit.”

“Great. First, we need you to fill out these forms and make a down payment. Once the forms are filled out, bring them back to me and I’ll give you a container and have you shown to a room.”

After filling out the forms, he is shown to a room. Inside he’s surprised to find a comfortable reclining chair, a television and DVD player, assorted erotic magazines, bottled water, and complimentary candies. There’s also a washroom.”

Mr. Pimp settles into the reclining chair. As he lowers his pants and begins to pump his penis, he has visions of Calypso, but when she flickers in and out of his imaginings, he switches to Clea. After much effort, Clea’s image fades. 

Frustrated, Mr. Pimp pauses, gets up and puts a movie in the DVD player. After 1 minute, he has an orgasm, but no ejaculate. Annoyed, he gets up, goes to the washroom and urinates into a small clear plastic container. The cup overflows before he can stop. “FUCK!” he shouts.

A few minutes later, Mr. Pimp exits the room and hands the two containers in at the Sperm Bank deposit counter. “Thank you. We will let you know the results in a week”

–

Mr. Pimp and Calypso walk into Chemo Class. They are greeted at the door: “Hi, welcome to chemo class. If you could just sign the attendance sheet before you have a seat.” 

The class looks like every school room Mr. Pimp has ever been bored in. They grab a seat near the back of the room. Mr. Pimp searches the room to see who his classmates are. There are men and women, young, old. A United Nations of Cancer. He is clearly the youngest person there. Then he spots a woman he knows but can’t remember how. Their eyes meet and shrug. 

Tears fall from Calypso’s face.

Just then a couple of older guys walk to the front of the class. One is short and plump and dressed in a blue suit with a yellow shirt and matching blue plaid pants. The other wears the same outfit but is taller and thinner. “Ha, they look like Abbott and Costello,” Mr. Pimp whispers to Calypso, who has no reaction as she has no idea who they are.

 “HI everyone! Welcome to chemo class! My name is Lou and I’m here to take you through the ins and outs of your upcoming chemotherapy, go over the various scenarios about what to expect and to answer any questions you might have about your therapy.

Lou starts up the overhead projector. “First, let’s go over some of the possible side effects. Remember, everyone is different and it’s highly unlikely you’ll be affected by most of these. Bud here will go over the various side effects that are possible.”

Bud speaks rapidly, like a TV commercial pitchman: 

“Hair loss (complimentary wigs available outside the Chemo Comfort Cabin)

Sore mouth

Inflamed mucous membranes

Nausea

Fatigue

Loss of appetite

Hearing Problem

Skin Changes

Eye Changes

Changes in taste and smell

Sex and Fertility Problems

Memory changes

Thinking Changes

Organ Damage

Constipation
Diarrhea

Second cancer

Low blood cell count (this is why you must rest. If your red count is too low, you will be unable to continue your chemo treatments until they are restored to normal levels).”

“So,” concludes Lou, “that’s certainly that’s a lot to take in, but again, these are just a sample of various reported side effects from previous patients over the years and most of them are short term.”

Mr. Pimp and Calypso settle into the Chemo Cabin. It’s the night before Cycle 1 begins. He sits in his chair. A documentary about birds is on the Television. A flickering Calypso occupies a nearby sofa. No words are spoken.

Chemo Chalet – Cycle 1

He and Calypso exit the elevator on the top floor of the Chemo Cabin. The entire floor is bordered by wide windows overlooking the mountains and river. Natural light shines through the windows. The walls have wood panelling. 

They walk towards the check in. 

“Good morning, welcome to the Chemo Chalet,” says the floating winged woman dressed in powder blue snow pants and a sunshine yellow sweater. 

She places a paper band around Mr. Pimp’s left hand and then shows him to a computer where he is instructed to take a seat and to fill out a computer survey to update the doctors about his current state of mind and body. The computer is slow. As he waits for each question to appear on the screen, he surveys the Chemo Chalet waiting area. Others wait. Others sick. Others scared. A TV flickers. He looks out one of the large windows. Cardinal Barry appears. Mr. Pimp now appears in a different space. He’s standing behind a podium. A coffin rests nearby. A portrait of Cardinal Barry hangs behind and above him. Mr. Pimp looks out of the sobbing sad and scared crowd before he speaks….

“Pod 5 is ready for you,” a voice interrupts. Mr. Pimp and Calypso rise and follow the floating winged woman. As they walk, he sees a wig room and inside it an assortment of men’s and women’s wigs.

Inside the treatment area, there are six pods. The pods have six lazy boy chairs, three on each on each side, that are centred by a large window overlooking the mountainous landscape. 

Mr. Pimp is relieved to see a lazy boy chair. He almost jumps in it like an excited boy. Another winged woman approaches. They exchange greetings. She offers him a choice of port or prick. They can install a port on his arm and then not have to prick him each visit. He chooses prick. They pick an arm, warm it up. He clenches his fist as the needle pierces the vein. They bring the blue machine he remembers from the earlier surgery. They do a variety of tests. Then they bring in some IV bags, hang them to a pole and insert them into the Pimp’s arm. One bag is to keep him hydrated. The other is a first of the chemo potions.

As the therapy begins, Calypso takes his hand in hers. 

Mr. Pimp accepts but his eyes are elsewhere, surveying the other chairs. He can feel the eyes looking upon him as though he shouldn’t be there. The other people seem much older. He spots one unconscious patient. The winged women try to wake him up but fail. Eventually, they nudge him awake. 

“Heard you were out gambling last night,” says the winged woman.

“Aren’t we all” mumbles the man as he takes a swig from a nearby bottle that doesn’t appear to be water.

Then Mr. Pimp sees the woman he knows but can’t remember how. She’s starting her treatment too. He overhears snippets of conversation. She has breast cancer. She’s only just starting chemo because she had a low white cell count following her hysterectomy. Their eyes meet again and shrug. Then his eyes close. They open in Clea’s home. He sits in his lazy boy. There is lots of activity around him. Clea, Marcus and Jimmy are there. They are all smiling and enjoying themselves. Mr. Pimp tries to get up from the lazy boy to reach them, but doesn’t have the strength. He falls back into the lazy boy, deeper and deeper until the chair swallows him.

Mr. Pimp is jolted awake by a winged woman who has come to change the potion bags. 

Doctor Circe then appears. She carries a big bowl of different coloured pills. “These are for you to start taking tonight. They will help with the potion side effects.

Mr. Pimp drifts asleep. When he wakes, he overhears Calypso talking on her phone. “I just don’t know…”

A winged woman arrives to release him from the IV bags.

Bud and Lou come by with candy and vitamin drinks. “Congratulations, you’re done your first session!”

“Who’s done?” 

“You’re done,” says Bud

“I’m done?”

“No, I’m not done, you’re done,” says Bud

“Yes, so I’m done?”

“Yes, you’re done for today anyway.”

‘I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” says Mr. Pimp, exasperated. 

–

While Mr. Pimp takes a shower in the cabin, the tub fills up with scattered hairs. He pulls a large clump of a hair with his hand. His face turns to rage and he violently pulls hair after hair from his head until there is nothing left. Exhausted and scared, he collapses to his knees in the bathtub surrounded by a forest of his departed hair.

–

Mr. Pimp goes through the same chemo potion routine for the rest of the week. 4 hours each day drinking in the potions. It is boring. He mostly sleeps, while a flickering Calypso comes and goes. 

Back in the cabin, Mr. Pimp sits in his chair, devouring pills. Marcus and Jimmy come to visit. It is awkward. Calypso cooks them a big dinner. Little is said. Less is eaten. He is nauseous. The boys refuse Calypso’s offerings. Mr. Pimp half-heartedly asks them to be polite, but then throws up.  Calypso keeps pouring herself white wine. The boys leave. Mr. Pimp sits dejected in his chair.

–

“I want a baby,” cries Calypso.

Mr. Pimp’s eyes open. He’s heard a muffled sound. “What?” he asks Calypso.

“I want a baby or this just won’t happen.”

Mr. Pimp sees her mouth moving but can’t make out the words.

“Shit, I can’t hear you. I can’t hear anything.” He grabs a handful of pills and eats them.

–

A knock at the door. A giant winged woman walks in and hands him a note. “I heard that you’re not feeling well. Can you just lower your pants and roll onto your side, please?”

He does as she instructs. She then pulls out a large needle and jabs it into his ass. “OW!” he screams. “Not again!” 

The effect is immediate. He can hear again. The nausea fades. He smiles and drinks a beer

Cycle 1 comes to an end. 

Mr. Pimp gets blood work. He doesn’t even feel the needle. “That was amazing,” he tells the winged woman. “You give really good needle.”

“Thanks,” she says, confused.

“You can expect a return visit. I’ll going to tell my chemo friends too.”

–

Mr. Pimp has almost a week off until Cycle 2 begins. Doctor Circe will give him an update on his tumour markers. He is upbeat and impatient. Calypso is bored and restless. He wants to get away, alone. They decide to take a train.

Mr. Pimp and Calypso sit on the train, looking out the window. As the train starts moving, red flags flap in the strong wind. He doesn’t see them.

He sits back in the train’s lazy boy chair. He takes a sip from a beer and puts his headphone on. “We wants to be alone but we can’t be alone,” a voice sings.

Mr. Pimp’s phone rings. He hits answer and Doctor Circe flies out of the phone and sits next to him. “Your white cell count is low. We’ll need to do another test on Monday to determine if you can start Cycle 2. Make sure you just stay in your cabin and get lots of rest. The slightest cold or flu could be very bad. We’d have to hospitalize you and delay chemo.” As she returns into the phone, Mr. Pimp puts the phone away and stares out the train window. Beads of sweat form on his head.”

The weekend is a blur. They drink and party and dance. People come and go. Smoky noise.

On their last day they walk up a mountain. The weather is erratic, switching between rain and light snow. He drinks beers and wipes sweat from his forehead. A quarter of the way up the mountain path, Doctor Wizard Bob appears out of his phone. “Hi! Great news. Your marker count was 1190 before Cycle 1 started and now it’s 11. That’s really good news!” he adds before vanishing back into the phone.

Mr. Pimp can barely process what is said. Exhausted and bloated, he sits shivering on a rock, desperately trying to warm himself up. Calypso walks on.

Cycle 2

Mr. Pimp sits in a chair as they take blood. The Cancer Lodge has a blood lab right on site. “It’s like traveling first class. No more waiting. Walk in, take a seat. Needle. Blood. Band-Aid. Adieu,” he thinks to only himself.

This is the big test though. It will tell them if its count is high enough for chemo potions.

Back in his cabin, Mr. Pimp sits impatiently. He speaks to a preoccupied Calypso: “It’s almost time. Why haven’t they said anything? I do not want chemo delayed. I cannot miss chemo. No no no no. I have conditioned myself. This is day 8 of 21. This is the long week. If it was a short week I could deal with it. I cannot deal with this….no no no no…  a delay fucks everything up. November 22^nd is to be my last day. It has to be my last day. That’s when I will leave here and we return to Ogygia. That’s when we start our life for real.”

The cabin phone rings. Mr. Pimp answers. A winged woman appears. “You’re one under the limit, but we’ve gotten approval to go ahead with chemo.”

Relieved, Mr. Pimp smiles. He tells Calypso. She smiles.

The phone rings again. It’s the sperm bank. “I’m sorry but we couldn’t find anything.” 

Relieved, Mr. Pimp smiles. He says nothing to Calypso.

–

Mr. Pimp sits in the lazy boy chemo chair. A winged woman arrives to hook up the hydrate bag tube. Sometimes they add in an anti-nausea medication. Before the first chemo potion drip, they have to order the potion from the in-clinic pharmacy. A big plastic bag eventually arrives. Sometimes they are delayed because there are so many orders or they’re baking a new batch of potion. Before the nurses pick up the chemo potion bag, they have to put on special blue gowns. 

In the middle of Cycle 2, a winged woman with a business suit appears. “We need you to take a drug that will you keep your white cell count up and ensure you don’t miss any chemo potions.”

“Sure thing.”

“Well, there’s one issue,” says the winged business woman. “It costs $3000 and you just take one injection…but it’s not covered by your health care.”

Mr. Pimp’s potion bag begins to bubble and boil.

Just then, Doctor Circe arrives. “I heard that you were having temporary hearing losses. We can order you a hearing test.”

Mr. Pimp stares in disbelief at her. He does not like her. “The hearing problem was three weeks ago. It’s not a problem anymore as you can probably tell, but it’s great that you’re so on the ball in following up. I also don’t appreciate that after letting me wait for over an hour for our last appointment, you don’t even show up and instead sent an assistant. You call me with the shitty news about my white cell count, but you don’t think to mention that my marker levels were great. Actually, can we just end this?  I’d really prefer to have Doctor Wizard Bob overseeing all of this.”.

“Are you breaking up with me?” she asks with a sad face. “I’m an oncologist. This is my field of expertise. Doctor Wizard Bob is a urologist. Very different.”

“And yes, who gave me his email. Who wrote me about the results of my blood test? Who does cool magic tricks? It sure as hell isn’t you.”

She mumbles apologies, says something about paperwork and lots of patients, and vanishes.

He continues venting, this time at the winged business woman: “And now you people think that while I’m in the middle of treatment, it’s a good time to tell me about a medication that I apparently desperately need but can’t afford! What the hell is the wrong with you?

The winged business woman replies, “Oh, but there is a second option. It means multiple days of injections, that you have to do yourself. It’s a $500 savings.

“I still can’t afford it.”

There is silence.

“Oh, but wait,” says the winged business woman in the phony manner of a salesperson. “There is a third option. We can apply to the government to cover the injections. You just have to show cause, like ‘chemo would be delayed because of the low count.’

The drip bag bubbles again.

“Why wasn’t I told any of this before they started this round of chemo? Doesn’t anyone communicate here? I had to figure out the chemo schedule myself. No one even told me beforehand what the schedule was. I can’t pay for any of this…. I just don’t understand. This is supposed to be a calm, stress free place and now you’ve just completely unnerved me.

The winged business woman apologizes and flies away.

Within minutes, she returns. “Everything is okay. It’s all covered. I was thinking of a different type of chemo. My mistake.”

She raises her hand to high five Mr. Pimp.

His hand stays lowered.

A nurse arrives at the Chemo cabin. She is showing Mr. Pimp how to inject himself with a needle into his lower right abdomen area. 

–

Sitting in the lazy boy chair as yet another bag of potion is sent in for battle, Mr. Pimp closes his eyes and thinks of Calypso. Just a few more weeks and our life will start. There will be a new home, a new love. He envisions their wedding and lots of eating, drinking, dancing and merriment. His boys are there, happy. Thoughts of Clea alone momentarily interrupt his day dreams, but he quickly shakes them away.

When Mr. Pimp is not in treatment, he’s alone in the cabin, battling depression and fatigue monsters. The days are grey, rainy and cold. No one calls and the only people visiting him are Marcus and Jimmy. He’s glad to have them with him even though he has no energy  and can barely rise from his chair.

The boys become restless after a while. They argue and scream. The noise slowly penetrates Mr. Pimp. When Jimmy accidently smashes a glass, Mr. Pimp slaps Jimmy across the face. Everything goes quiet. Jimmy and his red cheek are in shock. Marcus says nothing. 

“I hate you,” says Jimmy.”

Clea arrives to take the boys home. 

Before they leave, Marcus and Jimmy embrace him. Mr. Pimp starts to cry as he holds them tighter.

“It’s okay Dad, it’s okay,” they tell him.

Cycle 2 comes to an end without any more drama. Doctor Wizard Bob appears in the cabin. “Your marker is now down from 11 to 1. That’s the normal range!

“You mean I’m clear?”

“Not quite, but pretty much. We’ll do another CT scan after you finish cycle 3 and hopefully we get the same results.”

A puff of smoke. Doctor Wizard Bob vanishes.

He calls Calypso with the news. She is overjoyed but can’t really talk at the moment.

Alone, Mr. Pimp turns on the TV.  He just mindlessly clicks past channels. Robocop comes on for a second…then another of a band performing and someone singing… “I’m so alive…. yeah…. I’m so alive.”

Mr. Pimp turns off the TV, lets his head fall back onto the chair and takes a deep breath.

Cycle 3

Mr. Pimp stabs himself in the stomach with a needle.

–

On day 1 on potion treatment, Mr. Pimp had walked by a bell that was attached to a wall in the Chemo Chalet. After asking a winged woman was it for, she told him that patients ring it on their last day of potion treatment.

–

During the final potion treatment, Soarin’ Churchyard, a bible in his hand, stops by to chat. “Hi, oh what an ordeal you’ve been through, but now you’re almost through it, almost out the other side and still standing. Do you feel closer to God now?”

“No, I feel closer to my dick.”

“But aren’t you more appreciative of life after this ordeal?”

“No, but I certainly appreciate death and magic more now.”

Soarin’ Churchyard frowns: “Well, you’ve shown great courage. You’ve survived.”

“What have I survived? We don’t survive anything. And you know…frankly…this whole stuff about cancer patients being courageous is such nonsense. I really didn’t have a choice. I got sick. I had to do whatever I was told if I wanted to get better. Most of the time I was laying on a bed or sitting in a recliner chair with a needle stuffed in my veins, filling me with lifesaving poison potions There was nothing remotely courageous or heroic about it. You do it or you die.

“Yet, you did you choose. You choose to live,” Soarin’ Churchyard replies as he moves onto the next patient.

–

Mr. Pimp had become familiar with the various winged women. Some pricked him without pain. Others were just not as good at finding a vein. But, this one was something new. He should have noticed that this one didn’t really have wings, more like stumps. She didn’t float like the others, just sort of bounced. When she stuck the needle in, there was not only pain, but he noticed that his vein started to rise until it started to look like an arch. The stumped winged woman is alarmed. “Sorry sorry sorry,” she says as she pulls it out. Then she finds another spot in his hand. There is milder pain as she hits the vein, but then blood begins to spurt everywhere. She fiddles around with the area and eventually the bleeding stops and everything is rolling smoothly again, it seems.

Hours pass and when it’s almost time to go, stumped wingless woman returns to check the bag. She looks at the machine. There’s a problem. The cistoplan potion hasn’t been dripping. The bag clamp was still on. She unclamps it and the potion begins to flow. The whole process has to start again. Mr. Pimp just sits quietly as his drip bag begins to boil.

Finally, another winged woman comes by, the needle comes out. She apologizes for the other woman. “She’s trying, but has a lot of work to do still.” She checks his blood pressure. All good. Various winged women fly by to wish him well. He thanks them for everything.

“It’s time for you to ring the bell,” one of them says.

Mr. Pimp has dreamt of this moment, of when he would grab the lever and smash the fuck out of the bell. As he approaches it, he sees a plaque with words…. He grabs the lever and goes to bang the bell, but only a weak ‘clank’ is heard. He tries again and again until eventually he manages to get a mild ‘ding’ out of it. There is faint applause from the winged women and then it’s over.

He lets go of the lever, sighs and walks out of the Chemo Chalet. hopeful that he never again sees these wonderful winged women again.

–

CTscan.

–

Mr. Pimp and Calypso are in the lobby. After checking out, he catches a glimpse of himself in the lobby mirror. The reflection shows a bloated, hairless and overweight person. He looks away in disgust.

Mr. Pimp and Calypso walk onto the ski lift. The lift goes slow and occasionally stops. Eventually, we see the ‘Cancer Lodge’ sign getting smaller behind them as they rise higher and higher and disappear over the mountain as the sun gives away to rain.

1. Non-Absorbing, written by Robert Pollard. Performed by Guided by Voices