"I've always been very sexual, and that's as true now as ever maybe even more so. When you're grappling with terminal cancer, your tactile experiences are generally traumatic there's so much pricking and slicing, probing and scanning, to say nothing of the poisons being pumped into your body and after a while it's tempting to just mentally detach. There have been times in the past few years"
"Before my diagnosis, Jess and I would often have sex more than once a day, and it would be easy for her to resent how much that part of our lives has changed, but she's never made me feel like I've let her down when my body refuses to cooperate. We've both had to navigate me using feeding and draining tubes, to adjust to me being skeletal, then bloated, then skeletal again"
Jess's casual caresses and playful squeezes reaffirm the narrator's humanity amid invasive cancer treatments. Medical procedures create traumatic tactile experiences and prompt mental detachment at times. The narrator's sexual desire remains strong despite physical decline, feeding and draining tubes, and fluctuating body shape. Jess expresses open attraction, adapts without resentment, and finds ways to provide pleasure when intercourse is impossible. The couple experiments with new sexual practices, uses toys, and employs humor and sensual play to restore arousal. Sexual intimacy functions as emotional relief and a private form of healing during an incurable illness.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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