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Superman Lost

“I’m just trying to climb up nine hills in seven short days,

sing a hymn for my soul”

Dateline:   Krypton

I was,


No more, though.


I don’t know who I am.

Superman, lost.

“I saw myself today, I’ve smiled and looked away”

I am writing this, so you don’t.

Have to.

If I can manage to be brutally honest here, bare bones stuff, stuff only your mind and soul knows, if I can lay it out raw and natural, maybe, just maybe it will save your life.

Save your freakin’ life.

This is man to man, ladies, read it and then hand it to the man you love, the men you love if you are married, your father is still alive, and your son is sitting on the couch playing video games.

Brother, if you are like me, you are a jerk.


A card carrying member of Jerkhood.

I’m Jerk King.   King of jerks.

I may not look like much, but trust me, don’t matter who or what you are, I’ll eat you up.   Eat you alive.   Pittooey”¦you gone.   A ball of mud in the dust.

At one time or another:

Broke both arms.

Broke both legs.

Dislocated one ankle.

Broke 8 of 10 fingers.

Nose”¦broke 3 times.

Been stabbed”¦twice.

Beaten with a baseball bat, hair sliced off with a switchblade and dumped into a restaurant dumpster”¦I was 12.

Drinking a milkshake got picked up from behind and tossed through the Dairy Bar’s plate glass window.

Rode a chopped 650cc Triumph Bonneville 50mph into the back of a car once.

Chased Bigfoot through the wilderness of West Virginia 6 weeks to the day after having a hip replaced”¦monster hunting on a cane.

None of it ever stopped me.

Paused me some, but never came close to stopping me.


I’m stopped now.

Stopped.   Parking brake on.   Wheels turned to the curb.

I have prostate cancer.

Being treated for prostate cancer.

And my ass is being kicked.

“”¦saddened by my visible life

sorrow cut me like a knife”¦”

You think you tough.

You ain’t squat.

My head is looking at my body and saying, “What the hell.”

I pee, every 25 minutes.


And night.

It is fire and water.   Sometimes the flames within from wherever pee comes from, shoots up my spine, circles the inside of my head several times and makes my NOSE RUN.

Normal, I’m told, side effect, I’m told, only be like that, a few weeks, I’m told.

I bleed through parts of me that have never bled outside of me before.   Scares the hell out of me, I’m used to my own blood, have seen it in a variety of settings, but never,

down there.

Down there is sacred, and frankly, pretty much a mystery, I know how things work, never thought, or wanted to know, why they did what they do.

I take the Private part, of Private Parts, seriously.

I am so tired, that sleeping, tires me out.

When I walk forward something has a hold of my backbone and is pulling me backwards.

Yawning, makes me nap.

I have fallen asleep, peeing.   And I was standing up.

My body, isn’t me, anymore.   And it doesn’t seem to care, who I am.

I think the same.

I talk the same.

But I am not close, to being the same.

Superman, lost.

“no doubt, no self-control, not a reason to cry

I feel like empty rain, through an empty sky”

In all of this, I have only broken down once.

None of the other injuries, broken bones, attacks, none of those ever lead to breakdowns.   I was a little scared in West Virginia when a bear and her cubs walked by us late one night.

Scared because I knew that if she attacked, only the slowest person was going to have a problem.

And I was the only one on a cane.

But I never broke.

Until today.

This morning..

This morning in my bathroom when I pulled the Depends on.

This morning as I stood looking at myself, in a diaper.

A diaper.

Couldn’t take it, starting crying like a baby, why not, had the diaper on.

I have Chernobyl, in my private parts.

I dream at night of going to the bathroom only to open my eyes and find myself standing in the bathroom.

I can go anywhere on the planet as long as it is within 24 minutes of a toilet.

No tears.

Myself in the mirror, in a diaper, pretty much the end of the man-line.

And don’t you dare tear up for me.



I did this to myself.



And I.

Because, I was Superman.   Baddest SOB I knew.   Nothing, not a damn thing was going to stop me.   Nothing.   Just keep me in the game doc, keep me in the game”¦got a family to take care of, kids needing food, kids needing college, banks needing the mortgage, credit cards needing payments, and on and on and on.

Retirement”¦formula says I’ll be fine, just have to come up with a couple of million dollars in the 401K.

Problem, don’t make near that”¦work harder, longer.

Expenses”¦gas”¦used to be this, now that, tomorrow more, next week even crazier”¦work harder, longer.

Taxes”¦yeah, got   a refund….oops”¦refund of my own money is taxable”¦$700 bucks to the accountant to figure it out”¦owe more”¦work harder, longer.   Pay more per sweat dollars than most Fortune 500 companies, some pay none, means I pay more”¦work harder, even longer.

Lost time, means lost ground.   A career in quicksand.

Bandage me up.

Pill me up.

Shoot me up.

Good as new.




A physical, I’m asked, next year, I tell, next year turns into 5 years, 5 years turns into, never.

If I’m breathing, I’m okay.

If I’m working, I’m okay.

If, I wake up, I’m okay.

Comes next, never any time, for, now.   Just next, no now.

I am,


You too, Superman.

You too,


“”¦so sing a hymn for my soul”¦”

You want blood and fire coming out your Pee-Pee.

Keep doing what I did.

You want to have to take a nap to rest up from the nap that exhausted you.

Keep doing what I did.

You want to pull on a diaper and face your wife.

Keep doing what I did.

You want to make your children cry.

Keep doing what I did.

Let me cut to the chase.   I may have just killed myself, I just ain’t dead yet.

90% survival rate, I’m told, maybe 95%, I’m told, got a nuclear reactor in my ass, I’m told, should work, I’m told, should kill the cancer, I’m told.

If not, the cancer will kill me.

Now you’re told.

From all I’ve been told, some of which I have listened to, some of which I haven’t, this Prostate Cancer stuff is not something that happens overnight.

Takes awhile this stuff.

Lurks, there in your Prostate.

Symptoms come slowly, can be over looked, can be explained away, drank too much, ate the wrong thing, got to give up the hot peppers.

But because it is a slow little demon, it makes it a catchable little sucker.

If you go to the doc on a regular basis and get checked.

Yeah it means a needle….boohoo.

Yeah it means a finger up your butt”¦boohoo.


I’m not sure but I’m betting death is going to be a lot more uncomfortable.

Death is the end of days up your butt.

I want to take the time here to apologize.

To my family.

To anyone who loves me.

I thought I was doing it right, doing what was best, staying in the game no matter what, looking out for you, not me.

Forgive me.

I’m sorry.

I was selfish.   Looking out for ME, it seems, is the best way to look out for you.

You the reader out there.

You the reader with a husband.

You can only take care of your loved ones if you are there for your loved ones.

Get yourself to the doctors….EVERY FREAKIN’ YEAR.

Work like a maniac.

Fish like a maniac.

But be a maniac about your health.

I’m Superman, in diapers.

The Kryptonite, it seems, was me.

Not about, tall buildings.

Not about, speeding bullets.

Not about, locomotives.

Nor birds, or planes.

I know now, Superman is about, Super Man.

Being a super man, to those you love.

For them.

For yourself.

Otherwise, one day, you will trade in your cape,

for diapers.

And become, like me”¦



“”¦stand by me as I grow.”

Hymn 4 My Soul

Joe Cocker