Last time I wrote on this subject I had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I was fortunate – the cancer had been detected early, was still localised in the prostate and was deemed to be slow growing. I was presented with 3 options: Radical Prostatectomy, Radical Radiotherapy or Active Surveillance. You might recall that I opted for the wait and see approach and I have been actively surveilling since.
That was over 12 months ago now. The method by which we are keeping an eye on things is to periodically check my PSA level for any significant fluctuations and, less frequently, rescan the area to look for any developments. I have had 4 such PSA checks and it has slightly risen each time. We are now at double the original level. Had this happened within 6 months, alarm bells would have rang and my next scan would have been brought forward as a matter of protocol. I am now due a scan in the next month or so followed by a consultation in October.
In many ways, and certainly in a physical sense, it still feels very much as-you-were. I have no symptoms beyond those that first alerted me that there might be something wrong in the first place. My life, to all intents and purposes, is very much like it was this time last year. Except it isn’t because now I have cancer and, whilst I almost certainly did have it then, I didn’t because I didn’t know I did.
The idea, the fact, that I have cancer pervades my thoughts much more than I admit to or even recognise. Everyone has been so kind and lovely about it. The people that know ask me how I am in a sort of ‘how are YOU?’ way, if that makes sense. They are so genuinely concerned I find it humbling and a little overwhelming at times. I feel like I don’t really deserve it – there are so many people in far worse situations. Then there are the people that don’t know (and this is the most confusing feeling) who obviously don’t ask after me in any such way (why would they?) and I find myself thinking, a little indignantly, ‘don’t you know that I have CANCER?’.
What do I want from these people? What do I want from anyone? I’m not really sure. If I get sympathy I bristle in one direction and if I don’t my internal nap lies the other way. I have to say that this isn’t the response to any specific enquiry as to my health – each and every one matters a lot to me – I really do feel loved and cared for and I am forever grateful to everyone of you that responded so beautifully to my last post on this. Cancer is a strange disease though, perhaps, like no other. This writing though is not about ‘cancer’, not in any abstract way that people who have not been touched by it might reference it. It is about me and it is about my cancer and, as I am finding out, that comes with very specific feelings and thoughts.
The most obvious and, perhaps, most significant thoughts are those around my mortality. I really like my life and I would rather it didn’t end prematurely (whatever that means). I have years left in me. This rather vague but compelling sense of an early demise has been heightened in recent weeks by the sudden death of my eldest brother, Ian. I say it was sudden but, in fairness, he did have a number of underlying and overlying health conditions. He only had one leg as the result of a lifetimes smoking. This habit also brought on a lung condition called Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD). Lately he had been struggling to get his breath which we now believe to be caused by heart problems. He was not, what might be described as, a well man. I still did not, and no one else – except perhaps himself, think that he was in imminent danger of death. I was away on holiday when I heard and whilst I was shocked by the suddenness of his passing, I wasn’t altogether surprised. That doesn’t make the loss any easier to take and I will be dealing with it for months to come I am sure.
As I stated earlier, I have just had my latest PSA level check and it is now double what it was a year ago. I will now have a scan to assess the spread, if any, and I will be confronted once more with a decision on whether or not to trigger a radical medical intervention. Without wishing to pre-empt the outcome of the scan, I feel much more drawn to treatment. My attitude to the disease hasn’t changed but my outlook on life has.
Ian was 67 when he died, 6 years my senior and, though he was wheelchair bound and had his life limited in many ways, he had a lot to live for and much to look forward to. I looked forward to spending more time with him despite his increasingly curmudgeonly disposition. I wanted to keep going to the football with him and I wanted to go on telling each other stories and jokes that made us both laugh so much when we were together. I hate the fact the he is now dead and all of that is over with him. If I am totally honest a little bit of me blames him for not making changes to his lifestyle earlier that might have prolonged things for him, for us. Ian always had a rather fatalistic attitude to life and death – for him it was always ‘when your time’s up, your time is up and there is nothing you can do about it’. But there were things and he didn’t do them and that makes me feel sorry and sad and a little bit resentful. I didn’t expect him to live his life for me but the lack of consideration of how others might feel after he has gone, how I might feel, grates ever so slightly.
Which brings me on to me and my situation. I try to live as healthily as I can in so many ways – I exercise regularly, I eat a healthy diet and I am (ahem) mindful of how much alcohol I drink. I want to try to do this for as long as possible. That has always been my approach – curb my worst excesses so that I can keep enjoying the things I like to do and the thing I like to do most of all is live. I am glad I have had this past year to speak with other people in the same boat as me (and there have been many) and to explore my own thoughts and feelings about what I am going through. It is now time to put my whole life first and that isn’t just about me, it includes all my family and all my friends.
I hope you like having me around because I plan to be here for a while longer. If you see me, say hello, how are you? With luck, I will be doing fine