Rum old game this one, isn't it?

It strikes me that this journey has some right ups and downs. I guess that’s the truth whether you have a major battle with PCa or even just a brief brush with it.

It’s probably not just because of the direct fear of death, though that certainly contributes along with all the questions that come as consequences and sequels, such as, ‘How well provided for are my near and dear ones?’ ‘What was the point of my life?’ What – if anything – can I do to reduce the pain / stress / harm to others if I do “pop my clogs”?’

It’s also things like how functional or otherwise will I be? And if that is less than fully functional, then for how long and to what degree, and how will that affect me, my earnings / employability, my nearest and dearest? Will I become a burden to others? Is this all going to be one major ‘cat amongst the pigeons’ for my (our) hopes and life plans?

And, post-operatively, how do I feel about my loss of ability to have normal sexual orgasms, not now having seminal vesicles or prostate? Will I get my erectile function back and how long will it take? How does that leave me feeling about my sexual identity, which after all, is one intertwined piece of my overall sense of identity?

But I remember a line I read in a book – sorry I can’t remember which book it was now and I’ve long lost the book in question anyhow. The line was, basically, that sometimes in life, you just have to feel the fear and do it anyhow.

And it dawns on me that the most frightening part of the journey, seems always to be the bit that you are currently on.

I mean, I was pretty concerned (internally), though ‘cool’ on the outside, about the results of the MRI and bone scans. Ironically, I wasn’t all that bothered about the biopsy results, not even after I was given them. I was pretty concerned about the actual surgery - for some completely illogical reason, I got a spooky feeling that I wasn’t going to come out of it. Hey, I’m still here! Then, something I read spooked me about getting the catheter out, though that was, at least for me, a real doddle. I’ve been a bit concerned – more on a pragmatic level – about if this urinary incontinence remains, just how I’ll manage it on a day-to-day basis. Hey, I’m getting that pretty much under control. Not perfect, but vastly better than it was.

And having ridden those ups and downs, strangely, I’m not overly concerned about getting the results of the pathology. Whatever those results are, whatever cards I’ve been dealt, well, I’m just going to have to get on with the next bit of the journey, aren’t I? I mean there are things that I can change, or do something about, and things I just have to accept and get on with.

The whole thing really is something of an emotional roller-coaster and I'll put my hand up and admit that I’ve been in some dark places on some days on this journey.  I’ve had a lot of support from others, very especially from my dear OH. But I am learning that really the only way is to ‘feel the fear and do it anyhow’.

And it is rather like the fear you feel as you queue up for the roller-coaster ride, isn’t it? Though, that all feels rather different afterwards when you’ve ridden it, got off, and you’re walking away from it, doesn’t it?