Almost 7 years ago to the day, I wrote my first blog about a
journey I was attempting to undertake. It was an imaginary journey, played out
on my PC, which involved a real-time flight around the world. During that
journey I wrote about sights, scenes and incidents which occurred as I flew
from country to country, all from the safety of my comfy desk chair
(executive-style, of course). At times, it felt real as I painted the pictures
in words; so much so, that a few readers remarked that they were unsure if it
was based on a real-life trip. But no, it was all in my mind and it still
remains unfinished as, from memory, the last leg I completed was in the Middle
East before carrying on to Asia.
Last week, I found myself at the start of another journey and one which will inevitably finish either sooner or later. This one is very real and one which I can’t save and restart or switch off and leave.
Usually, when I write, I have no idea what reaches the paper until I actually read it. My mind goes into “dump” mode and all the thoughts come out, whether angry, humorous, insular or whatever. Writing was never an effort and I guess it satisfied the small creative gene inside me until photography kind of took over and writing was not so fluid but hey, I was creating, so no problem. This is hard to write. Not because of the subject, I think, but because I just don’t know how to start or, indeed, where to start. How about if I do it like in Alcoholics Anonymous? Ready …………… ?
*stands up* My name is Graham and I appear to have prostate cancer.
Note that I am Graham as, for once, Bertie can’t take my place. Normally, he is always so useful to hide behind as he protects the real me but this time I have to be that real, insecure, shy and, frankly, pretty cowardly product of Ma and Pa Huntley. That’s why this series of blogs will be more than a little interesting for me to write. I’m quite sure it’ll try and be humorous as that’s the entertainer in me but it might also be a while until some of it is seen depending on what happens and how I write it.
I’d been having a little trouble peeing for several months and figured it was my prostate. I wasn’t overly worried as I’d reached that certain age where gentlemen occasionally have problems and a slight “blocked hose” feeling was hardly a big deal, given the thyroid problems I’d had and this overwhelming sense of tiredness continually with me. Anyway, I was at the doctor for a routine thing a couple of weeks ago and mentioned this to him. He examined me (I won’t explain how – Google it!!!) and his first words were “Graham, you never do things by half, do you”. Rather hoping he was referring to the pertness of my bottom but fearing he wasn’t, I looked puzzled and he explained that my prostate was very large. We spoke about reasons and he suggested that a blood test be undertaken which checks the PSA (prostate-specific antigen) level in my blood. I left feeling a little worried but soon forgot it in the excitement of a week in Devon which commenced the following day.
He did say he was going to phone me with the results but didn’t so I spent the week thinking about it and reassuring myself that no news was good news. That lasted until 8am the Monday after we returned home when his colleague called me and told me the PSA level was far higher than it should be and they were making an immediate hospital appointment. This somewhat screwed up my Monday!
Last week, I found myself at the start of another journey and one which will inevitably finish either sooner or later. This one is very real and one which I can’t save and restart or switch off and leave.
Usually, when I write, I have no idea what reaches the paper until I actually read it. My mind goes into “dump” mode and all the thoughts come out, whether angry, humorous, insular or whatever. Writing was never an effort and I guess it satisfied the small creative gene inside me until photography kind of took over and writing was not so fluid but hey, I was creating, so no problem. This is hard to write. Not because of the subject, I think, but because I just don’t know how to start or, indeed, where to start. How about if I do it like in Alcoholics Anonymous? Ready …………… ?
*stands up* My name is Graham and I appear to have prostate cancer.
Note that I am Graham as, for once, Bertie can’t take my place. Normally, he is always so useful to hide behind as he protects the real me but this time I have to be that real, insecure, shy and, frankly, pretty cowardly product of Ma and Pa Huntley. That’s why this series of blogs will be more than a little interesting for me to write. I’m quite sure it’ll try and be humorous as that’s the entertainer in me but it might also be a while until some of it is seen depending on what happens and how I write it.
I’d been having a little trouble peeing for several months and figured it was my prostate. I wasn’t overly worried as I’d reached that certain age where gentlemen occasionally have problems and a slight “blocked hose” feeling was hardly a big deal, given the thyroid problems I’d had and this overwhelming sense of tiredness continually with me. Anyway, I was at the doctor for a routine thing a couple of weeks ago and mentioned this to him. He examined me (I won’t explain how – Google it!!!) and his first words were “Graham, you never do things by half, do you”. Rather hoping he was referring to the pertness of my bottom but fearing he wasn’t, I looked puzzled and he explained that my prostate was very large. We spoke about reasons and he suggested that a blood test be undertaken which checks the PSA (prostate-specific antigen) level in my blood. I left feeling a little worried but soon forgot it in the excitement of a week in Devon which commenced the following day.
He did say he was going to phone me with the results but didn’t so I spent the week thinking about it and reassuring myself that no news was good news. That lasted until 8am the Monday after we returned home when his colleague called me and told me the PSA level was far higher than it should be and they were making an immediate hospital appointment. This somewhat screwed up my Monday!
I was told to attend hospital the following day, 3rd
November, and this time had the privilege of an eminent consultant poking
around inside my nether regions. He told me there was a lot of lumpiness on one
side of my prostate and, when I asked if this technical term meant something
sinister, his actual words were (imagine serious expression) ‘It looks very
suspicious’. The rest of the conversation was a bit of a giveaway as he was
talking about the disease in the present tense rather than hypothetically and I
was even introduced to one of the specialist nurses they have there.
I was told they were scheduling a biopsy, an MRI scan, a bone scan and something called a flow test as these were to determine various factors like had it spread to the lymph glands or my bones? Can you see why I was starting to feel sick at this point? The biopsy sounds fairly uncomfortable and I enquired as to whether this was done under general anaesthetic? The consultant confirmed it was normally local but could do general if I preferred and then the nurse popped up with the reassuring fact that it’s not too bad as they only take 12 pieces of my prostate! It was at that point that I realised that I wasn’t too keen on her!
I left in a bit of a daze and have been ever since, I guess. Telling my family and a few close friends was hard but it is what it is. I have these tests scheduled for Saturday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday so it’s going to be a busy week next week. I’m dreading the biopsy, to be honest, but then at least we’ll know what the situation is. This waiting and, by definition, fear of the unknown, is horrendous.
I was told they were scheduling a biopsy, an MRI scan, a bone scan and something called a flow test as these were to determine various factors like had it spread to the lymph glands or my bones? Can you see why I was starting to feel sick at this point? The biopsy sounds fairly uncomfortable and I enquired as to whether this was done under general anaesthetic? The consultant confirmed it was normally local but could do general if I preferred and then the nurse popped up with the reassuring fact that it’s not too bad as they only take 12 pieces of my prostate! It was at that point that I realised that I wasn’t too keen on her!
I left in a bit of a daze and have been ever since, I guess. Telling my family and a few close friends was hard but it is what it is. I have these tests scheduled for Saturday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday so it’s going to be a busy week next week. I’m dreading the biopsy, to be honest, but then at least we’ll know what the situation is. This waiting and, by definition, fear of the unknown, is horrendous.
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