On the 4 October 2016 I was released from the San Bartolome Hospital Orihuela Spain after undergoing on the 29 September an Open Radical Prostatectomy.
A what?.........Removal of my Prostate due to prostate cancer. My goodness I am now a member of a very exclusive and unwanted club, I am a cancer survivor.
How did this happen? Why me? What did I do wrong? No it can’t be me, it happens to other people don’t it, but I’m only 64 what the hell has happened?
To answer all these question I must go back a year to November 2015, my wife and I had finally taken early retirement from the rat race of working in the UK and retired to our dream home in beautiful sunny Spain. We had owned our property since 2006 and loved coming back for longer and longer periods until our final move back here in May 2015.
Ensuring that we were legally entitled to live in Spain, and as my wife had just qualified as a UK state pensioner and me due to become one in August 2016, we went through the process of becoming legal residence, obtaining first our Padron and then our Residencia, and then finally completing the process of becoming holders of permanent SIP medical cards.
All done great we were now legally entitled to the full range of facilities available for all pensonistas (state pensioners) in Spain
Signing on with our permanent SIP cards at our local doctor’s surgery, they insisted we had full fasting blood test and was seen by the doctor as a routine for new patients.
Although we are trying to learn the language (not very successfully) we knew that when going to our local doctor’s surgery we had to employ the services of a translator, to which we did. A few day after obtaining our blood test our translator arrange for us to receive our routine blood tests result with our new doctor, my wife was already registered with this doctor who had discovered back in 2010 that she had a medical condition that required regular medication funnily enough this had not fully been discovered back in the UK but over here during a period we were temporarily living here between 2008 and 2010, at which time we were registered under the temporary reciprocal health arrangement’s.
The doctor spoke to my wife first and went through all her treatments and wanted her to have regular blood pressure checks, something that just never happened back in the UK.
Then it was my turn, through our translator ‘do you pee often at night? ‘Well to be honest I am not sure as I have always gone to the toilet frequently during the night for as long as I can remember’ I answered. ‘Do you have any pain when peeing? Or pass blood? Or have a week flow? ‘Or pee more often than you used to?’ ‘No’ I said to all questions
‘Well your PSA levels are a little high so I want to put you on some tablets to ease any flow problems and then another blood test in four months’ time and we will see how it goes’ ‘Ok but I really don’t have any problems in this area but will do what you advice’ I said.
PSA levels? What the hell are PSA levels? I used to have regular check-ups in the UK for high cholesterol but I had never heard of PSA levels before, so looked it up on the Internet. The PSA test is a blood test that measures the amount of prostate specific antigen (PSA) in your blood. ... It is normal for all men to have a small amount of PSA in their blood, and this amount rises, as you get older. A raised PSA level may suggest you have a problem with your prostate, but not necessarily cancer.
Ok that seems clear enough and seems a sensible blood test to have at 64 years of age. I took the tablets prescribed and four months later went back to my doctors after another blood test, where he told me that my PSA levels were higher than the last reading 9.7 (my first reading was 7.4) and he was going to refer me to an Urologist.
A few days later I went to Orihuela Medical Centre along with my translator and was seen by the Urologists, who again asked me all the questions that my doctor had asked and I gave the same answers, he then put on a rubber glove and indicated to me to go behind the screen I knew what was coming as just before I left the UK in May, I had had a similar examination at my UK doctors surgery. A digital rectal examination (DRE) is a type of physical examination during which a doctor or nurse inserts a finger into your rectum (back passage) to feel for abnormalities. One of the most common reasons for having a rectal examination is if a man has a suspected problem with his prostate gland, which could be a sign of prostate disease or prostate cancer. As I had had this examination back in the UK and nothing was found, I was not worried about having the DRE over here. It is uncomfortable but the feelings only last a short time afterwards.
After the examination the doctor said that he was not happy with what he could feel and advised me to have an ultrasound examination, to which I agreed to have. Again nobody found anything back in the UK so what could change in a few months, and it was better to be safe than take any risks with my health.
The ultrasound appointment came very quickly and I was sitting outside the examination room at the San Bartolome Hospital with a full bladder (which is part of the pre examination requirements) needing desperately to go to the toilet but also knowing that if I went then I would have to fill my bladder up with water again before they could carry out the examination. Although all the staff seemed very kind to me the language barrier is a problem and it seemed to me that others were going in for their appointment before me. I was in agony desperately needed to go to the toilet and thinking, if I have a prostate problem surely making me hold my toilet requirements like this cannot be good for me, however I waited patiently until it got to the stage that when the nurse next came out of the examination room I rushed to her and in front of all the other Spanish patients I said ‘pee pee now desperate’ and held my stomach, the nurse must have realized that I could not hold it any longer and immediately took me into the examination room. Ultrasound completed and after a rush to relieve myself I went home.
This was one experience I had never experienced before and after this there were many more to come.
I was given a date to go back for the results of the ultrasound, when called in and without a word being spoken I was given a box that contained (so I realized afterwards) an enema. The doctor then spoke about me having a biopsy. Hey enema, biopsy hang on I thought this seems serious now, what about the ultrasound, so I asked what the results were of the ultrasound and I was gob smacked when the doctor stated that he had not consulted the results but would look now, which he did and then said a word I was to become very familiar with he said ‘vale vale’ (pronounced valley valley) I did not know what this word meant at the time, but it means ok ok.
I said to my translator is this just a belt and braces job as the ultrasound was ok so there is no big issue, and was told well probably but over here in Spain the doctors like to be very proactive.
My next appointment was to see the anesthetist, as the biopsy was to be under anesthetic. But before going to see the anesthetist I had to have a chest X-ray, blood test, and an ECG. Taking all the required information I was asked the usual questions, weighed, and my height taken. I could not be given a date for the biopsy but was told it would be within three weeks, which was around the usual time.
As I don’t speak enough Spanish to be able to do all this myself I had engaged the services of a translator, and it was arrange that the first point of contact would be my translator.
We were now into June and my date for the biopsy was for the 10 June, however I had no idea how or when I had to use the enema so had to contact my translator to find out. The enema was yet another unpleasant experience, but had to be done.
Biopsy over and with many comments of the now infamous ‘vale vale’ I had to await the results of the biopsy.
I was given the date to return to the hospital and see the Urologist, and after the usual long wait was called in, along with my translator. The doctor spoke in Spanish and my translator said, well the good news is that they can see a tumour, ‘a tumour, what isn’t that cancer?’ I thought with my head now reeling, bloody hell this is serious stuff now. The doctor wanted me to have an MRI scan, which I subsequently had on 19 July.
An MRI scan was one of the scariest things I have ever experienced and if you suffer from claustrophobia it is very difficult to be able to complete the scan. You are contained within a tube that is not much wider than you, you cannot move, you are given headphones because of the noise levels and a panic alarm which I had to admit I almost used on several occasions but what kept me going was the fact that after this they would know where the cancer was and if contained within the actual prostate. If it were growing outside of the prostate then my prognosis would be extremely severe, so despite the awfulness of the MRI I was determined to get through it. 45 minutes later my ordeal was over ‘Vale vale’ said the operator as they gave me a copy of my scan on a DVD. This was in case I wanted a second opinion or was going to go for private treatment.
I again returned to the hospital for the results of the MRI scan, same doctor same room same long wait. The doctor again speaking through my translator said ‘the good news is we can clearly see the tumour on the top right of your prostate and it is completely contained within the prostate’. Good news indeed as I had by now finally understood that I did indeed have prostate cancer, but to be given the news and all in a foreign language via a translator is a surreal feeling. I was then told the various option open to me, but my head was reeling, all I could think was that I had just reached my 65 birthday become an old age pensioner, retired to our dream in Spain and now I had cancer, life just didn’t seem fair. Was I actually ever going to get any UK state pensions payments, how long did I have left to live; prostate cancer is one of the easier cancers to survive so it could have been much worse? Ok concentrate on what they are saying. All these thought were going through my head.
They explained the drawbacks to each and every treatment option and then the Doctor said that as I was relatively fit for my age and still relatively young for prostate cancer and they were fairly certain the cancer was completely contained within the prostate, he would recommend to have the prostate fully removed surgically. Great options chemo with all that it would entail with no guarantee of getting rid of the cancer and then having to have surgery anyway, which would be much worse and also less chance of success, or surgery with a much better chance of removal of the cancer as it was contained within the prostate. But with the chance of some incontinence afterwards and certainly no more children (not a big issue) but erectile dysfunction, which they might have drugs which would help (Viagra).
For me it was a no brainer, I went for the surgery, have it removed, get it over with, recover and then worry about the possibly side effect but at least a good chance of completely getting rid of the cancer.
I should point out that due to family history I have a real fear of hospitals so to take this option was a big big decision for me.
I asked my translator how long I would be in hospital and was told that usually overnight to two nights, great I though this sounds like I am going to have key hole surgery, this was my big mistake I should have asked the doctor and not the translator but that was my fault. But in my ignorance I went off and researched the keyhole surgery or Laparoscopic Prostate Surgery. I obtained a wonderful booklet called the Tool Kit sent to me from the UK from Prostate Cancer UK, this covered all aspect of Prostate Cancer, however as I was under the misapprehension that I was to undergo the key hole surgery I never fully appreciated just how major my operation was to be, until I awoke from my actual operation. On reflection maybe this was a good thing as at one time whilst recovering from my operation I questions the wisdom of actually opting for the surgical removal of my prostate, although as I questioned my decision, it was still despite the problem I encounter whilst in hospital, the correct decision for me.
I was given an appointment once again to see the anesthetist after obtaining another chest X-Ray, blood test and ECG and on the I went again back to the hospital and was asked the same question as previously in preparation for my operation, which I was told would be over the next few weeks.
On the 28 September I was told to report to the hospital at 6pm for admittance and my operation would be Thursday 29 September.
I spent nearly a week in hospital. My experiences whilst in hospital covered the full emotional spectrum and I am happy to talk about it on an individual basis to anybody that is considering or going to undertake the same operation as myself. However despite the language difficulties I can only say that the doctors and the nursing staff were in general exemplary and I have nothing but admiration for their care and consideration to my treatment and me.
I was released on Tuesday 4 October and now at home making what I hope is a good recovery.
In less than one year I have gone from what I thought was a completely healthy disposition to having had major surgery and am now and hopefully will live for many more years longer as a Cancer Survivor.