If you’re laughing, good—keep reading, you might be the one who needs to hear this
If you could have a meaningful, positive impact on just one person, would that be worth a little embarrassment?
That’s the question I asked myself before writing this.
And here’s my answer:
My penis works again—because I had the courage to ask for help.
I’m risking some embarrassment in front of about 5,000 people. But I’m doing it to help one person. Just one.
And honestly? That’s a trade I’m proud to make—especially because I already had the hard conversations with my friends and family. I know I’m not alone.
But here’s where it gets interesting: if ten of us told our stories, this wouldn’t just add up—it would multiply.
That kind of openness? It spreads. Exponentially.
The Story
I wasn’t prepared for the aftermath of having my prostate removed in 2018. No one explained what life without a prostate would really mean—not in the way I needed to hear it.
And for many men, that life includes a penis that doesn’t function quite the same anymore.
It’s easy to downplay, but I won’t. It’s a big deal—to most men, and definitely to me.
After dealing with a non-functioning penis for more than five years, and starting to feel the weight of aging in other ways too, I turned to my doctors.
They ran every test insurance would cover.
But when it came to doing something that might actually help me?
Silence. Discomfort. No answers.
It was as if they’d never been taught how to talk about it—or help with it.
Eventually, I got desperate enough to do what so many refuse to do:
I talked about it. I kept talking about it. I told people what I was experiencing until someone finally thought to send me to a chiropractor.
That led me—by luck or grace—to Aligned Modern Health, an integrated wellness provider. And everything changed.
The Moment That Changed Everything
A few months ago, I walked into their office for an adjustment and was able to say the words I never thought I’d say again:
“My penis works.”
And I wanted to thank them. All of them.
(If they consent, I’ll thank them by name. They deserve it.)
My care team was incredible. They spoke to me with language that made sense, without medical jargon or judgment. They asked good questions, listened fully, and made sure I understood every step. If I didn’t, they slowed down and tried again—until I did.
They created the safest, most supportive medical environment I’ve ever experienced.
Then, a new acupuncturist joined the team. He poked places I didn’t think had anything to do with erectile function and told me, calmly and confidently, “I can help.”
By that point, I trusted the team enough to try it—even though it felt unconventional.
And you know what?
It started to work. Within weeks, there was progress.
After about a year?
At 61 years old, I have what I’d call a perfectly respectable, functioning penis.
And I didn’t get there through silence.
Why I’m Telling You This
This would never have happened if I followed my father’s example—stoic, quiet, proud.
We learned too late that he’d been having microstrokes. He knew something was wrong, but he kept it to himself. It crept up slowly, and he downplayed it until there was no more time to fix it.
He died with things unsaid. With symptoms unspoken.
I believe if he could speak to us now, he’d say:
Don’t suffer in silence like I did.
So if 5,000 of you want to laugh, go ahead. Hell, please share it—because I’m doing this for the one person out there who finds the courage, after reading this, to speak up. To talk to someone. To describe what they’re feeling until they’re heard.
The right medical professional can handle it.
They will not be squeamish.
They will not get PTSD from your story.
But they might be able to help you.
Say something.
Make them listen.
That’s how it starts.
There’s much more to this story. If there’s interest, I’ll share what I’ve come to understand about my journey.