Every Journey Begins With A Single Step...

HR-Your Chance to Be A Ladyboy For Free

2011-08-24T23:36:31Z

Copied over from another of my Blogs--

The Influence Of Appendages & Attire......

Hi Mate,

I have been there an have all the tee shirts - the hormones, the menopause symptoms and the RT - here if you need any thoughts or advice ?

Only thing that springs to mind - from bitter experience - is ask about RT to the Nipples pre hormone injections !! - Wish I had known about it - they get a bit - well ok very - sensetive lol

Cheers Mate

John

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Hi John

Just read your post on returning to my computer [LOL-can't call it the PC anymore!] after reading through the NHS booklet

'Hormone Therapy For Prostate Cancer--Your Chance to Be A Ladyboy For Free'

I did read the section on breast swelling and sensitivity and having a quick belt of RT to negate that possible eventuality but like most of the other side effects listed the wording is all 'If's','But's' &' Maybe's' and 'some men do' & 'some men don't'.

My first injection is booked for next week so I'll do some reading and thinking before then but doubt if any RT would be available at such short notice even if I wanted a blast.

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I've started this separate blog on HR so that I can garner everyone's comments,thoughts and advice in one place--this might be of help to others who find themselves in a similar situation as well.

The change from a very physically demanding job to a near life of Riley lifestyle--albeit without the money of course!--saw my already large body stack on another 50lbs over the past 5 years,so man boobs have been a long time companion for me and as long as they don't increase to an enormous size and outline a huge 'W' on the inside of my 'T' shirt or the nipples become the size of organ stops and get caught in my waist band, I'm sure that I can deal with them.

Having finally accepted that being that much overweight was reducing my life expectancy by a considerable margin and not wishing to give hernias to any members of the medical fraternity who might have the task of transporting me should I become ill,I made up my mind to lose some weight.This was around the back end of May.

By adhering to just eating more sensibly and cutting out spreads,cakes and biscuits and my beloved cheese I've said farewell so far to some 19lbs.

Not that great an achievement as when you've got plenty to lose especially around the midriff the first couple of stone are the easiest to shift but definitely a move in the right direction.

I've also said goodbye--touch wood- to having almost daily bouts of indigestion and having to chomp Rennies in between taking dollops of Peptic Liquid [the NHS version of Gavascon].

The hormone treatment will present a bit of a challenge insomuch as weight gain can be a side effect but guess I'll just have to try a little harder especially as the loss so far has made me feel better in myself despite having those rogue cells partying away inside me.

The Flushes might also be a tadge trying to deal with,especially if they similar to those endured by my wife when she was going 'through the change' a while back.

The Influence Of Appendages & Attire......

2011-08-24T15:57:50Z

Worried and fearful as to what the meeting with the Consultant would bring and after tossing and turning for what seemed an eternity,my wife eventually got up around 3am and spent the pre-dawn hours watching the hands of the clock as they relentlessy but so slowly made their repeating journey around the dial.

Tick by tick by tick.

Luckily I slept soundly and knew none of this until I made by way downstairs,refreshed and ready for the day's events, several hours later!

Shortly after the appointed time we were shown into the consultant's room where I was pleased to hear that the crossing of numerous appendages and the offering of best wishes by the good people on the Mac site [combined in no small part by the power of being properly dressed by my good lady] had helped to contain my cancer within the prostate!! Yes!!!

Despite always hoping for that announcement to say that it is a considerable relief when you are actually given it,is something of an understatement!

With shoulders no longer slouched and with chin now raised from chest I asked what would happen next.

The Main Man asked to feel around my lower abdomen to ascertain the probable amount of scar tissue that had resulted from my previous operation a decade ago.

His opinion was that Brachytherapy was not an option because of the scar tissue and that the choice for me would be either the complete removal of the gland by surgery or the course of Radiotherapy to destroy the cancer cells within the prostate.

He opined that whilst the performing of a Prostatectomy was perfectly feasible the surgeon might encounter some difficulties and or problems in getting to the prostate because of the degree of scar tissue et al that might be found after entry.

To avoid any uneccessary problems I opted for the course of Hormone Treatment by way of pills and injection over 3 months followed thereafter by a couple of months worth of radiotherapy.The follow up hormone treatment after my radiotherapy would then possibly be for a further two years or so.

So a very good day really with the slight downside that the hormone treatment could make me unliveable with for at least one week in any four!

community.macmillan.org.uk/.../[IMG]http://www.smileyvault.com/albums/userpics/11079/thumbsup.gif[/IMG][/URL]:550:550]

Would Like To See You..

2011-08-23T10:21:26Z

Telephone call received yesterday from the main man's secretary..

My standing and importance has obviously improved as usually I'm notified by post that my appointment 'at the clinic of' is at a date a couple of weeks in the future.

''Mr.Main Man would like to see you on Wednesday''

Appointment made so tomorrow is my 'This is your life' day!'

Defrosting in the microwave..

2011-08-16T23:55:21Z

Arrived scrubbed up and polished and in good time for my MRI this evening.

On replying in the negative to the questions about having any recent deposits of metal in my body or to ever having any metal objects enter my eyes, I was relieved of the Pink Floyd CD that I had bought to be played through the supplied earphones and introduced to the cylindical capsule of the MRI scanner that took up half of the scanning room.

I was instructed to lie on the scanners 'bed' which extended like a tongue from the opening of the decompression chamber type apparatus.

As soon as my head lay on the pillow,Rosa Klebb and her twin sister swiftly plonked the earphones over my ears and secured me to the bed from chest to ''down below'' with several loose fitting padded straps with velcro ends.A rubber bulb was placed in my left hand and I was told that this was a panic button for me to communicate with Rosa if I had a problem at anytime when inside the belly of the beast.As Rosa ended this advice with a barely concealed snigger I realised that this was no panic button for my benefit but an indicator to them if i needed to press it for them to increase the power of the machine to an even more unbearable level!

Only because I was disadvantaged by laying on my back were these two women able to encase me in preparation for being devoured by their electronic contraption and to complete their sadistic preparation they turned on the earphones and began to play a Robbie Williams album to me.

Being on true stiff upper lip stock I gritted my teeth and would not allow myself to show the pain that this was inflicting through my ears.

Seeing that playing Robbie Williams was having no apparent effect they then played their most dastardly card--they played my Pink Floyd 'Dark Side Of The Moon' CD to me at such a low volume that it was nigh on inaudible!.

Truly their torture techniques knew no bounds!

In the full knowledge that I was now suffering as few had suffered before, they slid me into the scanner and just as Harry Palmer was bombarded by 'White Noise' when imprisoned in a suspended metal box during his investigation of the 'Ipcress File' they began assaulting my senses with measured doses of a repetitive and monotonous pulsed noise.

Again and again 'Dong,dong,dong,dong,dong,dong' hammered into my senses as they attempted to break me but taking a leaf from Harry Palmer where he grinds a piece of metal painfully into his hand to provide his brain with a distraction from the ever more invasive white noise, I began to force the only part of my body that was not secured,my toes, hard against the metal sides of the enclosure hard enough to eventually snap the bones in each one.First the right foot and then the left but relentlessly the noise continued and all the time I was being inched further and further intside this carniverous abomination.

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Fantasy time over.

What really happened was that I Arrived scrubbed up and polished and in good time for my MRI this evening.

I was instructed to lie on the scanners 'bed' which extended like a tongue from the opening of the decompression chamber type apparatus.

Rosa the two young radiographers grabbed me from behind asked me to lie on the bed and lightly placed a couple of light bands over me and requested that I place my arms by my side and that I should keep as still as possible whilst the scanner performed it's task.

The 'Dong,dong' noise was there but only at a medium loud volume and was interspersed with periods of near silence.

It does seem to be an eternity when you are in there but in reality it's only a very small period of time.

It put me in mind of defrosting on a low setting in the microwave the way the imager comes on and 'dongs' then goes off and then drones on again.

I was soon 'spat out' by the scanner and sent merrily on my way.

Now it's a 7-10 day wait I understand--hate all this waiting--until the main man's associate deems it time to reveal all.

In The Post Today..

2011-08-15T15:02:51Z

Nothing medically to report but today my luck changed for the better!!!!

I received a letter from a Mrs. Grace Wu,a private investment wbanker

Apparently some donut with my surname instructed her to lodge $21 Million in some Chinese bank to be used for an investment in some business or other.

6 years later the Bank reported to her that the funds remained untouched and when she investigated further it turned out that the donut investor had only gone and got himself killed in a hiking accident in mainland China.

Not only that but he died intestate and now Mrs. Wu wants to do a deal with me to share these unclaimed bucks-10.5 million bucks each !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh course, to save her getting into trouble all of this must remain confidential and I mustn't tell anyone about it-not even the people on here on here!!

Now there may well be those of you reading this that will be Doubting Thomases but I know it's the genuine article for the following reasons..

The writer has a Chinese name

Her address is in Chinese characters

She's given me a real email address to contact her.

The letter has only taken 5 weeks to reach me since she wrote it.

I know that she is a real banker because she saved money when posting this letter by using a second class stamp.

There are a number of elementary spelling mistakes within the letter that only a real Chinese person when writing in another language would make and I also know for a fact that the Chinese authorities do not permit the use of spell ckeckers on any computer used in China!

Wahoooo!! I'm in the money,I'm in the money!!

The sad thing about these scam letters [And emails] is that these con people work on the numbers game-if they send out enough of this drivel there will always be some susceptable soul out there that will be suckered in and will lose their hard earned cash to these vermin.

2011.From April to August..

2011-08-14T21:37:33Z

Hi everyone--my first ever blog and blog post!!

Joining a community online for whatever reason is something I always find challenging as following the seemingly idiot proof instructions on how to register and participate in that community usually involves having to overcome several mental blocks because for some reason I often fail to see the obvious.

What is simple and staightforward for many really is very difficult for others--unless it's broken down into child like instructions and numbered as Step 1,Step 2 and so forth I always seem to make a hash of it--but I usually get there in the end and hopefully I've been successful and this blog will appear somewhere on the site and not disappear into cyberspace for all of eternity!

OK,as above having never written like this before or indeed shared my life outside my family I hope that any soul who reads this will allow a degree of latitude in the way I write and report as it's possible that my take on what has happened or will happen to me might come across as irreverent at times; if it does then please be assured that I mean no disrespect to anyone as I know that each of us have different opinions,thoughts and interpretations about everything and that we all experience and deal with illness in our own individual ways.

Since 1998 I have been taking Irbesartan 300mg for my high blood pressure as well as Bendroflumethiazide 2.5mg [a water tablet] For the past year I am also taking Bisoprolol Fumerate 2.5mg tablets.

I had major health problems some 10 years ago.I spent 12 days in Hospital after having major surgery for Diverticulis involving an Anterior Resection and a repair where the diverticuar fissures had 'burnt' through into my bladder.All was successful and no problems with those areas since.

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So,I'll begin what has only been a short journey so far and hope that fellow community members will offer advice,suggestions and information to me and others as my journey continues.

In early April 2011 I had some discomfort in my lower abdomen which I thought was a water infection.As it had persisted for several days I went to make an appointment with my GP but accepted that the Practice Nurse could deal with my complaint of a water infection.I was able to see her later that day and as a sample of my urine only showed a small degree of infection she prescribed me a weeks course of antibiotics.

The antibiotics failed to improve my discomfort so a few days after completing the course I saw my GP who proscribed a month's course of a stronger antobiotic,Doxycycline 100mg used to treat chronic prostatitis etc.

These too also failed to hit the spot so on my next visit it was time for him to snap on the latex glove and have a grope up my anus or 'back passage' for those who dislike the use of four letter words might prefer to feel the Prostate gland.

'Hmm' he replied enigmatically when asked what his digital manipulation had revealed

''it's a little rough on one side,we'll have to get some blood tests done''

A week or so later the postman delivered a letter from my Doctor's surgery requesting that I make an appointment to see the GP about the test results.

My mind drew an imaginery first tick on my long dormant 'Warning Indicator Register'

A day or so later I was siting with the GP as he read out a long list of results from the various tests on my blood that he had asked for-each one was fine so my brain got out an imaginery rubber and began erasing that imaginery tick but stopped abruptly when the Doctor read out the last result which said that my PSA was 12.5.

He explained briefly what the PSA was all about and that as for my age the reading should have been around the 4 mark,he'd refer me to a consultant and as our glorious leaders had ordianed I would be seen within a fortnight.

Asking if I had real cause for concern or whether we were still at the investigation only stage he explained to assure me that nothing concrete would be known until several more tests were conducted at the Urology Clinic at the local Hospital.

To help ease the discomfort that I was experiencing my GP presribed Fiffundox XL 400mg,a drug which relaxes the muscle of the prostate gland and bladder exit and widens the urethra.This drug is often used to relieve the symptons of benign prostatic hyperpasia [BPH]

As a result of a cancellation I attended the Urology Consultant's surgery at my local Hospital just a few days later with an appointment to be seen by an ''Associate Specialist'.

A request to supply a water sample whilst I was waiting to be seen produced nary a drip despite some concerted efforts to contract and/or relax my bits and pieces to encourage some production.

'Not to worry'' the helpful male nurse told me 'Just drop a sample into us tomorrow''

I wish he'd told me that before I had strained and contrived to achieve a sample as having ensured that I had emptied all my internal receptacles of waste prior to my appointment, trying to magic up what wasn't there was quite an unnecessary effort.As I'd also vigorously washed,lathered and scrubbed that area twixt naval and kneecap prior to possible inspection during my appointment my brain was also programmed not to release any effluent which would compromise the pristine state of the area known as 'down below'

My name was called and chaperoned by my wife whose presence on such occasions in my opinion is essential for a myriad of reasons not least because as a woman she is far more likely to retain any information that the Doctor imparts.As the male of the species we can be pretty useless on occasions such as these and the old saying that two heads are better than one is so,so,true.

After brief introductions he opened up my folder and commented that there was nothing in it apart from the basics of my name, address and doctors reasons for this referral.

I informed him of my previous operations,the resection mentioned above,a shoulder op and a knee replacement which I'd all had done through BUPA [I could afford it then as the premiums were quite reasonable,but as I got older they increased to a point beyond my means] and asked as to why my notes were so sparse.

Leaning back in his chair he informed me that

''We don't share information with them [the private sector] and they don't share it with us''

Not the best statement to hear or to inspire confidence in those who might well in the near future be the deciding factor in your longevity,especially when you believe that knowledge is everything and that forewarned is forearmed!

As there was no mention in my near empty folder of my operation for diverticular disease my word about it all was obviously not that convincing as he asked to inspect my scar for confirmation.

Seeing the faint pink line from above my naval to the top of 'Down Below' appeared to do the trick.

After feeling the degree of 'roughness' to my prostate he retired to his desk and wrote up some notes.Handing several sheets of paper to the attendant male nurse he explained that I would be sent appointments by post to attend for a prostate biopsy and renal ultrasound which the nurse would explain about and we followed the nurse from the room.

The nurse supplied me with a sterile bottle for me to deliver my sample in the following day and told me course of events that would now unfold for me.

He confirmed that my appointments were likely to be sometime after the end of July-some 4 weeks hence-asthe clinics were already booked up until then.He directed me to the nearby department which dealt with the Cystoscopy that I was required to have and I trudged off there and answered the questions on the form that I was given there,mainly basic details and medication being taken.An appointment was made for this procedure to be performed in the first week of July.

Returning home we were both not quite so cheery as we had been when we had set out but took a small degree of comfort in that although this raised PSA of 12.5 combined with the rough texture of my prostate was being taken seriously by the Urology department it was an Urology Clinic and not an Oncology Clinic and nobody was really bandying about the 'C' word.

Despite this my mind drew an imaginery second tick on my awakening 'Warning Indicator Register'.

When confronted with even the slightest possibility of having Cancer,the greatest problem for us, and for most people I should imagine, is in not knowing anything definate one way or the other for several weeks.

The most that many people know in regard to any form of cancer is that speed is often of the essence.The sooner that you inform your Doctor of your concerns than the better the chance of you sucessfully dealing with it are we are lead to believe. Realising that you are put into an extended state of limbo whilst you and many thousands of others await their turn for investigation in the system comes as a bit of a shock and does nothing to alleviate that nagging worry that settles in with you.

Another mental tick on that warning register in my mind.

Cystoscopy day dawned and I trundled down for my appoitment with the camera.I arrived early and settled down in the waiting area with a book.

Eventually I was called through and a nurse explained the procedure which I was already familiar with having had several experiences of this from my diverticular days some 10 years ago.

I was asked to remove my shorts and top and was rewarded with the opportunity to grace a standard issue gown designed for someone half my size which when squeezed into threatened to cut off the supply of blood to my arms.

My turn to enter the theatre of dreams soon arrived and I was introduced to the team which comprised a couple of cheerful nurses and doctors,all female with the excection of one male doctor who offered to provide commrntary to accompany the moving images that I could watch on the monitor as the camera investigated my bladder.

The lady doctor charged with what I saw as a daunting challenge to insert a camera the size of those that were used in outside broadcasts in the 1950's by BBC's Sportsnight into my urethra [OK,I'm exaggerating it was only half the thickness of a small knitting needle] asked if I was OK and gently feed the camera up inside my penis whilst I watched it on screen with the male doctor describing what we could all see.

Despite having had this done several times before in the past this was the first time that I had seen what the medical team were seeing and frankly it was strange to see the camera's progress inside me.

I saw the inside of my urethra and all around my bladder and was told that the dark area that I saw at the top right of the screen was the entrance to my right kidney.Everything was pink and red and looked incredibly healthy and brand new.I mentioned my previous bladder repair and the doctor obliginly moved the camera around the bladder to find the resultant healed area which also was 'as new'.

The procedure only took a few minutes and apparently there appeared to be no problems in that area.After being able to pass some water down a slightly sore urethra I was sent on my way.

One procedure down and as there were no indications of a problem I mentally removed one of those ticks.

Three weeks later and it's July 27th AKA 'Biopsy Day'.

No theatre this time but still had to insert myself into the straight-jacket restrictions of a hospital gown before being shown into a small room only large enough for the procedure table a couple of chairs,a desk and a row or three of files on several shelves.

Probably due to the smallness of the room the medical team consisted of just two people a female nurse and a white coated gentleman who regaled in the title of 'Advanced Practitioner'

I was invited to sit next to the procedure table whilst they positioned themselves in a well rehearsed manner between me and the door. Due to the size of the room making an exit after noticing the bloodstained tools used in the procedure was now nigh impossible!-Yeah,I'm exaggerating again,it was a small room but cosy and the two professinals were again very pleasant and knowledgable and were at pains to explain all that this procedure was about as well as ensure that I had taken the previously supplied antibiotics a couple of hours ago and that I had another supply of antibiotics available to take over the next three days.This was to prevent any infections which due to the nature and locality of the procedure could cause a slim chance of a problem and if in the one or so case in a hundred happened how I was to get myself down to A & E post haste to be treated.

Explanations over I was invited to ask any questions that I had and then it wa s up on the couch and into a foetal like posistion.

The 'AP' continued to talk to me and explain what he was doing and when the 'clicks' would be heard which were the taking of the ten samples required.

This is a more unpleasant experience than having a cystoscopy not the least in that it is out of sight and so out of your control and is a more invasive intrusion into what is an area more private and personal than your genitalia are.

Although unpleasant and uncomfortable it is not overly painful but you are quite relieved when 'click' number 10 is reached and the last sample taken and the truncheon size probe [yep another attempt at humour!] small probe removed.

A quick mop up with a dollop of tissue and its off home.My bottom feels a little sore for an hour or so and it'sa relief when inspecting the pan after your next bowel evacuation that it has not been accompanied by several pints of blood.

Procedure 2 completed but I'm not inclined to remove another tick just yet.

6 days later and August 2nd,Trans Rectal Ultrasound day.

Surprisingly I'm was more apprehensive of this session than I was of the Biopsy as the last time I had one of these my bladder was full to bursting point and I sat crossing and uncrossing my legs praying that I would be called in for the examination before I had to go to the loo which would mean another session of imbibing copious amounts of water and another wait.

This time I follow the suggestions to have a 'Comfortably' full bladder and present myself at the correct time and within just a few minutes I'm called in, smothered in copious dollops of gel and ultrasounded.I'm then shown to the loo where the funnel topped measuring device is waiting for me. A very pleasant minute or so of very pleasurable expulsion later I'm again sat waiting my recall for the 'after' section of the Ultrasound investigation.

I enquire as to what the ultrasoundist has discovered and am told that there is a retention of water in the amount of some 180cc remaining in my bladder after I've voided.Not so good and probably explains the uncomfortable feelings that I've had more or less all the time for the past few months.

Third and last of the procedures completed and I think that I should add another tick to my Warning Indicator Register which I'm now thinking of renaming to the 'Have I,Haven't I' list.

Its August 10th and I've an appointment with my 'Associate Specialist' in the Urology department.

My wife and I arrive in good time but find the small waiting room full of unsmiling faces as many others await their fate.

''There's another waiting room just round here'' a smiling nurse informs us and shows us to it.We're the only ones there so we're spoilt for choice with 6 available chairs and settle down a little apprehensively for my name to be called.

Glancing up as nurses pass by the open door in case they're looking for us as we're not in the 'real' waiting room,I notice the sign on the door of the room ..'Quiet Room'--hope that's not an omen.

Name is called and we go into the AS's consulting room.An Urology nurse is sat on the examination couch by the door through which we entered.Ominous is the word which springs to mind.

The AS is seated at his desk and we sit facing him as he shuffles some papers and then briefly refers to them.

After the pleasantries are exchanged he looks again at hispaperwork and speaks those words that no one wants to hear.

''Your biopsy results how that you have cancer'' he pauses for the words to register and then continues,

''Of the 10 specimens taken,8 were positive for cancer''

No matter how much you suspected that this might be the verdict,you are not prepared at all for hearing this news and it takes a second to fully realise that it is your health and your life to which these statements apply.

I gather my thoughts a little and ask what is next and am told that next it's an MRI scan to see whether the cancer is contained within the prostate or whether they've set up camp elsewhere inside me.

I'm told that the Urology nurse will explain everything to my wife and I so we leave his room with her and are soon ensconced in her office.

She is a well informed and helpful person with a friendly and kind way of explaining exactly where I'm at with a Gleason score of 7 and takes us through the booklet on Prostate Cancer.I'm made aware of all the scenarios that I am possibly about to encounter in the very near future most of which will be dependant on the results from an MRI scan.

She phones down to the MRI department to confirm that they are open and that someone is available to make an appointment for me and gives me the doctors filled in form requesting the scan for me to hand in there.

With slightly leaden steps I make my way to the MRI department and it's only when I hand over the form that I register the word 'PRIORITY' stamped on the right hand side in large red letters.

I muse that stamping this as 'PRIORITY' after taking some months to get to this point is somewhat akin to bolting the stable door after the horse has escaped!

An appointment for the scan that will determine my future is made for 6 days time-thank goodness that 'Priority' stamp was on the appointment request!

So that's where I am-eagerly ticking off the hours until next Tuesday evening.

I'll update then.

PS More a novel than a Blog-LOL.