Thanks to all, for the warm replies.
(Jeez, I must send email to whomever runs this forum - tell 'em the text size is too small for some of us... please, pump-it-up a size-or-two - not so the bloke across the road can eavesdrop my life story, but at least so I can read it without a magnifying glass.)
Anyway, having got a phone call from the GP not long after my original post... the upshot is that I'm now clearly cured.
Only got a 66 this time. Woo-hoo! Where's the celebratory doughnuts?
So yeah, I guess I've the joys of 'some other bloke sticking his finger up my a**'' to look forward to.
(Which after not being able to pee, and the consequent tugging of the catheter on your John Thomas every time you move more than one-eighth inch, is delight indeed.) (Bring on them doughnuts again.)
It's a sound point about 'waiting is the toughest part of it' - that's something with which I can empathize, and those who're going through tough times have my genuine best wishes for 'life being as easy as it can be'.
Personally, I'm as mentioned... almost unbothered.
Never been a fan of nausea, so the thought of chemo troubles me a tad.
But everything else I'm ok with... the potential 'incontinence, inability to deliver-a-stiffy, etcetera'.
And yeah, even death. (Hell, I survived my 'Texan, redhead, lawyer' second wife. And my most recent, likely final - hell, I couldn't do that again 'twenty years younger than me' lady partner... still love her dearly, even though she eventually came to her senses and kicked-me-out.)
This of course sounds (and is) ludicrously flippant, and I'm really not trying to take-the mick or anything similar.
Seems an odd paradox... prostate cancer is a big killer, but has 15 year survival rates of 95%. Hell, the way I'm continuing to deteriorate at a relatively spritely 62, I can't imagine how decrepit I'd be at 77.
if I can't get wiped-out in a Donnie Darko-type airplane engine incident, I might have to consider 'Door #2 please, Monty' - the cancer - as a preferable alternative to 'rapidly closing in on 80'. Hell, what a thought.
If there is a serious point here, and amid the jesting and ribaldry (had to look that one up before being sure enough to use it) I've been desperately hoping such a point would arrive before I hit the 1000-word mark... it's twofold:
#1 My respect and thanks to the good people who organise and contribute to this service.
#2 Cheer-up chaps. 'It's only prostate cancer - there's a lot worse.' (Jeez, i don't know how bad that sounds, it's well-intended, supportive in a 'try to find the good among the bleak' way - love yourself and those close to you, because life can be very fragile and easily removed.)
#3 Whatever's happening to our insides, probaby the best way we can help ourselves is to learn more about the possibilities (good and bad), and to worry as little as we can.
So yeah... 66 rather than the previous 67.
I feel better already... dunno what all the fuss was about.
My hopes for swift recovery and ongoing good health to y'all.
:-)
Edited by member 24 May 2018 at 14:45
| Reason: Not specified