Chapter 6

That our depraved conduct could be justified by our unique sexuality might be arguable among lawyers and other councils, but there is one authority to which there is no appeal!

Dad announced he had cancer!

One of the worst kind, it killed several members of the (Presidential) Carter family, and more recently Luciano Pavarotti: pancreatic cancer is almost as deadly as ALS.

Despite recent new treatment options, no one is the favorite to last much more than a year or so after the initial diagnosis because symptoms usually don't manifest until it has had time to metastasize - but there have been surviviors, so who knows?

With all the radiation treatments that will be scheduled, Glen and I are scared to stay involved with dad any longer. Besides, he's not likely to have any of THOSE desires now for quite a while!

It's amazing how we grasp at straws when the prognosis isn't good: There's a guy on TV who claims all cancers can be killed by elevating one's body chemistry to alkalosis (as opposed to acidosis). Apparently, cancer doesn't do well in alkaline environments, according to his book.

But dad is going with the radiation treatments - it's just the tight lipped silence from the doctors (who are prohibited from outright lying about dad's chances) that has us all worried.

We have all read and re-read as much as we can from the internet encyclopedias about this disease and we hold out hope that they got this early, otherwise, it's curtains!

But dad wants the rest of us to take solace in one another, to enjoy life for the precious gift that it is, and if and when he feels strong enough, he might yet surprise us, and join in!

Surprisingly, it took only about a week or so before Glen and I needed to get our rocks off - mom took a couple of months.

We have read accounts of World War II soldiers using the possibility of going to their deaths as a means to seduce females, American and foreign! It makes much more sense now because we embrace our sessions as possibly the last we will ever have. It doesn't necessarily make it greater, but there is an intensity fed by the urgency.

Dad's progress didn't look good - he was still weak as hell after three months - we didn't know if he would ever again plumb anyone's depths. But that didn't keep us from trying to get him laid.

Mom finally decided not to lose her husband to despair and practically raped dad, one night, and despite his inital reticence, he found his equipment still worked fine!

But dad had no strength left for either of us twins, so we continued to cherish our sessions with each other, dearly.

We had our own supplies of hormones by now, and we could have sex as either male or female (at will), but with dad fighting a medical battle for his life, our old docter, the man who brought us into the world and was still our OBS/GYN, warned us that medical science still has such a long way to go, so much so that it may turn out that the hormones that dad had been taking for years and years may have contributed to the causal effect of his cancer!

He reminded us that K-Y jelly, although slightly more messy, was pefectly safe after long term use. It wouldn't hurt to rely (solely) on that for lubrication. We tossed the hormones!

Of course, dad's secret got out - clinicians just blab too much - but it didn't lead to our secret being divulged.

After dad died (and we knew it was coming), the three of us all committed to one another for our future private lives. We were well cared for, financially.

Our doctor, fortunately, saw no reason to violate our privacy by writing about or otherwise divulging our special condition (perhaps he thought we still had the goods on him at our finger tips), and mom, Glen and I continued to round robin our sexual performances until she passed away of natural causes.

Glen and I are now (officially) spinsters, and perhaps only because we are twins, we still often get urges together, thankfully. I doubt that either of us would ever turn down the other, even if we were NOT in the mood!

Call us fucked up if you want, but life handed us lemons and we managed to produce a lifetime supply of lemonade - the only price we paid is: no children.

And perhaps that is for the best, too.