OK. Because you asked, I will answer the question: Why did I not tell anyone? I was not ashamed. I did nothing to deserve it. I am in good shape, never smoked, no drugs. I had health insurance. I did nothing illegal. So why keep it a secret? Because I am self – employed, running my own business and bidding on competitive contracts. I did not want there to be a hint of a chance that I would lose out because someone thought I was sick and could not perform. I did not want to even give myself the chance to blame a loss of a contract on my illness. I knew that once the info was out there it was never coming back. I only let people who could help me know. I have wonderful neighbors, and one of them is very active in church. If she found out she would make sure to tell the congregation about it and ask for prayers (against my will of course). She is out. I couldn’t tell her husband. Why put him in that position? I did tell one neighbor because I needed help and he swore to take it to the grave and he had already demonstrated he was trustworthy. .
Why tell my step-mom in Florida? What is she going to do with that info? Probably just kvetch to her friends while sitting around the condo pool. She would also call and ask how I was doing. I don’t need that.
To schedule the surgery, I lied and told the people at work I was going to Florida to help out my sick mom. I told her I was on a business trip. I came back in pain, trouble walking, peeing myself every time I moved but I faked it. I walked straight and tall all the time. I never let them know. One time I was at a meeting and needed to go to the bathroom attended by a bunch of other guys. I was wearing a diaper and packing a pee pad so it took me a long time. I joked with the guys “Man! I’ve got to get that thing reamed out!” (a relatively common procedure for guys over 50). They never knew.
I truly believe that by hiding my surgery, I forced myself to recover much faster than I would have if I had allowed myself the luxury of some slack.
After one followup surgery about a year later everything worked out fine. It is done. Nobody asks me how I am doing. Nobody brings up the subject or tells me about a relative with it. Nobody asks me for advice. If by accident I hear of someone with it, I listen and offer no admission, advice, or counsel. Done. I dealt with it. It’s over. I am a Lucky Guy.