I booked my flight to LA. The best price I could get was with the now defunct Pan American. This wasn't altogether surprising because just three weeks earlier one of their Jumbos had plunged out of the sky onto Lockerbie in Scotland. The date of the flight was January the thirteenth. Yes you guessed it, it was a Friday. I gripped tightly onto my seat arms as we flew north out of Heathrow towards Lockerbie. About three quarters of an hour after takeoff, the guy in the next seat turned and said," we'll be ok now, we've gone past Lockerbie. It was then I realised, it was precisely a year since my operation. I told myself I'd done enough mourning over my balls and had to get on with my life now. A feeling of utter relief swept over me with that decision. As a consequence, my eight day trip to LA was interrupted by a two day jaunt to Las Vegas. I am not a gambler, but I lost all the money I took with me to the marketing capital of the world. It is truly an amazing place. I couldn't get over the "all you can eat" breakfasts for $1-99. Breakfast in the Excalibur Hotel, then the largest in the world with four thousand rooms, was entertainment itself. A buffet bar fully thirty yards long greeted the diner. Practically every type of breakfast food sat waiting to be devoured by hungry guests. It puzzled me no end to see people piling masses of food onto the small plastic tray, so that fruit intermingled with eggs and bacon and fish shared a spot with cereal as though this was the last breakfast to be had on the planet. Puzzled because you could go to the bar as many times as you liked ! Perhaps the journey to the bar was too arduous for those people, who didn't look as though exercise was their favourite pastime.
"Justification"
Once home again, I began to analyse. What could have caused my Cancerous attack? Where was I going wrong? How could I avoid it again. then it struck me. Perhaps this was poetic justice. After all, I'd been treating the opposite sex as objects of desire, rather than humans with value of their own. I decided I had to rethink my approach to that aspect of life. Irrespective of the logic of that particular conclusion, it clearly helped me to become a better person, eventually. I concluded too, that stress had been a great factor in the outbreak. There was nothing I could do for the time being, except not exacerbate the situation, by abusing my body so much with alcohol and little rest.
Glorious June
The Arbitration reconvened in June with my opponent's case being presented. I looked forward to him giving his evidence. For ten days I sat and watched him being dissected and his lies exposed, causing comical scenes of him gaping like a fish out of water, as he struggled to piece together his web of deceit. It was over before it began really. I'd been recalled to the witness box on the first morning to clarify one or two issues for the Arbitrator. Once dismissed, it was time for lunch. Next up, my opponent. After lunch, I was competely taken by surprise by being recalled again. Puzzled though I was, I took the stand and was referred to the file containing all the correspondence which had passed between the parties during the contract. A file which was supposed to be the same for all witnesses to refer to. It had been changed. There were annotations on each page, cross referring to other documents. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was quickly dismissed by the Arbitrator and rushed back to my lawyers, telling them what was afoot. We waited for a couple of hours of testimony, before my barrister demanded to see the file. It was put into evidence immediately. Our man was undone. Caught trying to cheat in a court of law. He had changed the files over during the lunch interval. Unknown to him, the Arbitrator had seen him do it. He cleverly allowed me to discover it, because had he said anything, a mistrial would have ensued. By the end of the four weeks, I knew we had won our case. The official result would come in due course. meantime, we continued to pile up debt as interest rates on our loans soared through 19%.
Waiting For Justice
Every three months I trotted off to Charing Cross for another implant. My abdomen began to resemble the surface of the moon, with all the lumps on it. The implants taking time to dissipate fully after they had stopped producing Testosterone. Dr Press was surprised that I knew I was getting low on hormones, even remarking to his students, who sometimes sat in on our consultations, how surprised he was. He hated me watching him operate, it made him nervous. So to ease his mind, I would watch him in the reflection of the light surround's metallic surface.
By the year end, there was still no result from the Arbitrator. We were due in the High Courts in London for the slander case in March 1990 for the second strand of our litigious battle. Clearly it would assist our case if we had the right result from the Arbitration beforehand. Timing, as it turned out, was impeccable.