Gentle Giant

Time to b-r-e-a-t-h-e !

2009-11-25T15:23:44Z

I've just had my third post-radiotherapy quarterly check-up and all seems to be going well, thank goodness.

My latest PSA test results revealed a value of <0.1ug/L which is excellent - so much so that my consultant greeteed me with the words I like to hear, viz "Hello Keith - this is going to be a 'trousers ON' check-up!"

Given that I started off with a Locally Advanced cancer diagnosis, it's been amazing what has been achieved in the past 18 months or so. I really do feel optimistic.

I also don't need to visit the department again for another six months, and even then I need 'only' see the Nursing Specialist (not that these angels are in any way inferior to the Great Man himself, but you know what I mean!)

The consultant explained that if my PSA value rises significantly, then I'll have to undergo a further biopsy and MRI/bone scans to assess the extent of any returning cancer. He also told me that, if cancer returns, then further radiotherapy would be out of the question - as would surgery - and that the most likely treatment would be cryotherapy. But that was in answer to my questions and not by way of being pessimistic.

So it was a good day.

I'm not gloating. I know that many out there would give anything to be given such hopeful news. I just thought it would be nice to show that it need not always be depressing and that where there's life there is hope!

Oh, and I really DO believe that if you smile it confuses the enemy!

Best wishes, folks!

Keith

What a crazy ride!

2009-10-11T12:21:17Z

Background: Prostate cancer, Gleason 7 (4+3, locally advanced, not spread to bones or nodes).

Well, here I am just 6 months after completing my R/T and still taking Casodex and a weekly dose of Tamoxifen. I sometimes wonder if I'm becoming a hypochondriac because of the plethora of small 'issues' I'm noticing and which seem likely to be side effects of my treatment, but the main thing is that I'm still feeling upbeat about things in general.

I still marvel at this. I suppose it's a consequence of actually having something real happen to me rather than worrying that something like this might happen to me. I know that others have expressed the same sentiment. I'm simply not worrying about anything right now and this fact alone continues to amaze me! In fact I sometimes think it's beter to be the patient myself than to love and care for someone else who is a patient. There's a sense of having some sort of control over things, I suppose.

I'm still waiting for my appointment to see the colorectal specialist who is going to check the cause of my bleeding 'down below', but the urologist, in his referral letter, said that he was quite sure that what I'm experiencing is merely some collateral damage caused by the R/T. It's not a problem for me so I'm not worrying about it.

I'm still unhappy about my ongoing sore breasts (which have grown a bit but not too much - yet) and the signs of a new layer of fat that I don't think I've caused by the usual over-indulgences. I think I'm going to have to live with this for the duration, but I've become a mite self-conscious I admit. My wife has been good about it and suggested that I wear a tight T-shirt beneath my shirts to help 'contain' the swelling. Oh joy.

The forum makes good reading. One or two 'sufferers' describe experiences and symptoms identical to mine. It's surprisingly uplifting to realise that I'm not alone. I do feel for those folk who are just starting off their cancer journeys, whether personally or as friends/ spouses / loved ones. I want to reach out to them all and reassure them that, as these things go, it really isn't that bad.

I realise that this is tantamount to telling a natural worrier to stop worrying, but I hope that they gain the strength that comes from realising that treatment will be excellent and the support first class.

If anybody's reading this, keep smiling! If nothing else, it confuses the enemy!!

Keith

30 Sep 09

Love thine enema ...

2009-10-11T12:05:02Z

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The postman delivered a mysterious parcel yesterday. It contained some written instructions and an innocuous looking bottle of clear fluid. Intrigued, I sat down, poured myself a cup of tea, and set about reading the paperwork.

I'd forgotten that at my last check-up my urologist had told me that he would be referring me to the colorectal specialist in order to investigate the cause of my bleeding (no more details just in case you're eating your breakfast…).

My mystery parcel turned out to be my very own DIY Enema Kit.

My drive to the hospital is a tortuous, bumpy, 20-miler. Can you see where I'm heading with this?

(Did someone mention bicycle clips?)

Yet another milestone along my amazing Prostate Cancer journey. I tell you, life has NOT been boring these past couple of years, but it has given me more causes to giggle than anything I ever experienced before my diagnosis.

Laughter is indeed the best medicine!

Keith

:-)