Journal of a Wildman

I had to ponder on this overnite. So we need a moment of overload to break through the dam? I don’t know how many “grand moments” like that I could stand!

I’ll respond to the rest of your message separately. Thank you, jim

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I had a crash yesterday of a different type…

I was descending a flight of stairs and I didn’t grip the handrail tightly enough. Halfway down, my right knee gives out and I tumble to the bottom. I land on my knees and right shoulder, none of which needed that punishment!

Today my body aches are greater than ever, but I broke no bones. This deterioration of my muscles and joints is due to Merck’s corporate greed, and they’ll never pay the price.

I’m walking like a 90 year old today, and I hate what I’ve become. My years of senior leisure that I had anticipated so long, instead will be years of torture. I expect to die by years end. What a relief that will be. Jim


All our life we did so much for a healthy best ager and a comfortable senior life. Every time in the gym, every walk, hike, biking…

And than kicked off by a useless brachial inhuman murder medication…

It have been a useless treatment. For me with 59 like @Akiyah much to early to treat a prostate with this last resort murder medication. And for the devil me as a biologist and @Akiyah as a doctor of medicine. Both used to look for background information before using anything.

For you dear @JimWildman with 64 more in the proscar age range but the worst of 1000 other non brachial alternatives.

Even a surgery is not so brachial than chemical castration with the poison.

@Grey_baron treated for prostate problems with 21 from a criminal and totally insane military doctor and getting very severe pfs is the worst case of us all. Because he didn’t do it for cosmetic reason , he trusted a criminal doctor for a medical reason. He was hidden as a very severe case. Nobody knows, he is still alive or not.

So this brachial one time off the market chemical castration caught us in our senior lifes and destroyed us totally. We have no power to fight this horrible disease anymore. I think no fun too.

It’s a very awful final of a good and healthy life. Hope once Merck gets an atomic :bomb:

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Never mind!

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  • “… I’ve had a fungal big toe nail and it’s gradually rotted away over the last 6 years, it’s no longer painful and is starting to re attach to the bed…” *

I didn’t want to hijack the other conversation, so I’ve moved this here…

Have you had success curing the fungus using ointments, etc.? Or is this improvement a natural occurrence?

I never had fungal nails before, and no OTC solution has helped. Thanks, Jim

Fungal nail is not uncommon. Treatments for this are generally 5aris. Nothing has helped, This side is common in diabetes. I expect your general nail health is not good, ridged and fragile. Omad is the only thing that has helped which is also recommended by some in the medical world as an alternative Treatment for insulin resistance .

Hope this helps

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@LazarusRy. Yes, my nails are ridged and brittle. I never considered PFS as a cause!

Did I interpret right, OMAD is one meal a day? That actually helps? Literally, one meal each day? I have some research to do, I guess! Thanks, Jim

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Nothing has helped this was suggested by someone that’s been in pfs since 2003 he’s extremely knowledgeable. I’ve been on it over 40 days and I am starting to see some minor positive changes… if anything it helps with the volatility of moods, irritability, etc as the digestive system gets rest. It’s not calorific restrictive.

There is lots of science behind this, and in the absence of a treatment its as safe as it gets

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The last few days have been a debilitating trial. Despite my emotional anhedonia, I have been seething with anger: how is that possible?

I worked 50 hard years towards the day I could retire and enjoy my final years. But there is no joy in Mudville tonight. My dreams are dashed.

This has exhausted me. I can’t foresee improvements, and don’t want to be on the battlefield any longer. I tire of this miserable life.

I know I’m not alone in this. But, my body tells me it’s time to give up. Jim


Dear Jim,

my real thoughts about ending up I can’t write here. Because the young ones need hope to live on with this shit.

I feel miserable as you.

The windows of normal feeling disappeared totally over the day. Only In the evening I can watch videos, eat junk and drink beer and can cope for some hours. For that I m fat now, with an unhealthy big belly. But it doesn’t care me anymore.

It’s my second summer with this shit.

My muscles going on to atrophy, my joints and bends are injured after every walk or action. My eyes are permanent dry and burning. The dark cycles under my eyes become really dark. Anhedonia, unbelievable hate and regret eats me in every second of being awake.

Last spring and summer were very cold and cloudy. It was a present for me. This spring is already hot and sunny weather.

A torture for a sick old man. Stuffed with that all. Sitting on the Terrasse or in the garden feels total unreal. Having breakfast outside or in a cafe feels total unreal. I stand up at midday and I have my breakfast in a gas station cafe outside or at McDonald’s Drive in. It’sonly Science fiction not real anymore I can’t swim in the lake because of my eyes, I can’t cope the crowd. I can’t make bicycle tours anymore. Nothing. What have we done???

So sorry Jim,

that I write no positive things to you, but I can’t do that without lying. Game over. We live a torture existing. No natural disease lobotomize human beings.

The only thing, we know each other here on the forum and we suffer not total alone.

Giving love and peace to each other!


I wrote the above nearly two weeks ago, and have slogged through the days since. Each morning I’m surprised to awaken to face another day; I genuinely go to bed nightly expecting my body to “give up the ghost.”

I’m exhausted, I’m old, I’m without hope for a cure in my lifetime. I walk through my house holding onto walls and furniture so I don’t fall down.

I’ve read what’s happening to our friend @LazarusRy and wish I had ten percent of his strength and bravery. His life is torture and still, he writes here to encourage others.

My friend @Exsexgod is like me, older and thrown away by society because we have nothing to offer in our current state of health. Unlike me, he is quick and constant in telling the world what this poison from merck has taken from him. For that he is told to shut up, even by fellow members of this group! How do you dare deny a dying man the right to tell his story! Keep going, Herr M.

That’s all I have strength for tonight. We old age members get little feedback or encouragement in this young men’s club. But, I’m here until I’m “not here” any longer. Love and respect your fellow members. Jim


Dear Jim…

it’s a hot spring this year. Sun burns down over Europe. All the years of my life as a Privatier I spent the whole day on my little plastic boat in the middle of our lake and enjoyed the sun. I cooled down by swimming, I drove the boat with my arms like Delphin style. In the midday sun I had an old wheat shirt on board to protect my skin a headband for my face and an Ibiza towel for my legs.

I need water and I have been living in the water like a dolphin the entire summer every year of my life. Even as a student I enjoyed every afternoon on a nudist lake.

Now I can’t enjoy the sun anymore. I can’t swim because of my dry eyes. I have no emotion anymore to buy a new boat for me and my daughter. I fear the crowd of youngster’s with their music boxes.

Like you dear @JimWildman I was so excited to live my senior years as a brown tinned body fit best ager in his white Sumner clothes. With blond hair and tinned face like a late surfer boy and women’s man.

Now we forgotten best agers sitting inside our house waiting for the end of our torture and anhedonia. You are in the middle end sixties already. I could live more than a decade in this anhedonic state.

My fucking killer urologist died. His fucking college wrot my layer I have been informed of the risks. What a human devil. What a criminal!

Fucked down with an archaic castration medication. I have been a foul to trust in backdoor fricklers instead of getting a second opinion from a serious urologist.


Don’t condemn yourself for that, most of us probably had fin prescribed by serious, well-regarded urologists. Most times, they are in the dark about PFS.

I do condemn them when, faced with a suffering PFS patient, they refuse to acknowledge even the possibility of this being a life-altering poison! Jim


Dear Jim

sitting here totally enabled from the rest of the world, even good friends give up the contact to me and ask me to call for professional help.

So I phantazise about the past. And play the game a thousand times and do the right thing a thousand times:

And I ask another urologist for a second opinion. Or ask my urologist for permanent side effects. Or check the internet. Otherwise I would sit here without any thoughts.

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May I ask a noncritical question? Why do you edit your posts so often?

I awoke this am to read your prior entry, and it’s showing 4 edits already! Color me curious… Jim


Yes Jim, I’m a Privatier since 2003. Only a short period I lived together with the mother of my child. The rest of the 15 years I have been living alone. Not one day in all this years, I think not one day in my entire live was boring.
I enjoyed every minute. With a nice breakfast with spoky carnival music or french coffee house music. Did my office schedules in the morning. Made my bicycle tour driving with my car and bike on the back to the wonderful Netherlands, as I told lived the whole summer from May till October as a dolphin in our lake, was a walker and hiker in the wintertime. Weekends with my little daughter. Saw some friends over the weeks. Had some affairs over the years. Visited my macrobiotic guru when I was to fat and walked through the black forest, after that through the french Vosges based in a ferme auberge. Sometimes when I was randy, I visited a clinic or sm studio with woundeful nurses, working for free for their own. I loved my life. I traveled through California and New Zealand, entire Europe, studied in the wild Berlin years, when the wall fell down. Traveling to Amsterdam in 2 hours. At least I had a stunning girlfriend and we had a wild on off relationship. Planned was a happy ending as a patch work family.

I have lived a funny privileged live from the many of my parents in the house of my grandma. I have been an epicurist all my life.

But I let the life run. I was the lucky one without fear. But the trauma of my dominant mother still working inside and I throated the poison. I have been supercritical all my life. Even my house I tested of asbestos and chemicals. And than I walked into the catastrophe.

After the crash I lost everything I was. All my friends, sexuality, hobbies, everything.

So this chatting with you is all left to me. And I want to write so much that I edit my posts. I don’t want to bore you with the same thoughts every day. So I write, than I delete, than I refresh the deleted post, than I edit. I’m empty, no fun, no hobby, no friends anymore, the fucking handy is the last thing in my life.

That’s the reason, why I edit my posts so much.


…and you know from yourself with the hormones everything is gone away. Like in the former east block they destroyed classical quarters of historical buildings and build up Beton bunker architecture. Dead areas.

Finasterid did that with us. Now as sitting in the chair zombies.


Sorry I’ve been late exsexgod.


This has been a bad week. I have ideas I wish to pursue, theories to research…and not a spot of energy. Dead tired.

I’ll know I’ve lost when I no longer care about continuing. I’m trying, I really am. I don’t want to be seen as a whiner, I try to remain upbeat. But I tire of the battle.

“Absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.”

The lyrics to my favorite song are on a loop in my mind:

Lord, I feel like going home
I’ve tried and I failed,
And I’m tired and weary
Everything I’ve done is wrong
And I feel like going home
Lord, I tried to see it through
But it was too much for me
Now I’m coming home to you
Yeah, I feel like going home
Clouded skies are closing in
And not a friend around to help me
Of all the places I’ve been
Lord, I feel like going home
Lord, I feel like going home…*

If you’ve taken time to read this, thank you. Jim


Hang in there Jim