Personal Health News – Content Warning: references to prostate cancer and cancer treatments.
So another thing you might not know…
In the late summer of 2018, my GP recommended that I start having Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) blood tests. I was 53 and so obviously this was just a helpful thing to do to keep an eye on my health, given that my father had recently been diagnosed with prostate cancer. Obviously I didn’t have prostate cancer, I was in my early fifties and not experiencing any dramatic symptoms. Well, sod “obviously”, because after getting a relatively (but not scarily) high PSA reading, I had an MRI and a biopsy and the diagnosis was confirmed in the October.
I was fine. I’m still fine.
I went on to “active surveillance” which meant regular PSA tests (it’s moved up and down between 4 and 9 in that time), an MRI every other year and if there hadn’t been an NHS-busting pandemic, I’d have had another biopsy earlier than I did last year. I stayed in touch with the local Urology department (who are amazing, of course) and we continued to have conversations about the right treatment and the right timing.
The diagnosis came when we were at a point in our “fertility journey” where losing my ability to produce the required genetic material would have been annoying. And we didn’t know then that it would take until 2025 to produce our bundle of joy. So I probably stretched the qualification criteria for remaining on active surveillance – ie if we hadn’t been doing IVF, I would have had treatment sooner, but all the tests showed no cause for alarm and, as the urology nurse said when we told her Laura was pregnant, “the gamble paid off”.
I’m not necessarily recommending following my path here, but I want you to know that it wasn’t a standard path and remind you that its worth exploring all options. But that’s only possible if you keep talking sensibly to the professionals. If we already had Nuggy and I got the same diagnosis today that I got in 2018, I would be having treatment as soon as I could.
I only had one tricky conversation about the timeline, when I was allotted an antipodean surgical registrar for one of my catch-up appointments. He clearly thought I was being overly complacent and delivered the classic line “You’ve got cancer, mate!”, a phrase that I’ve adapted for my own use ever since when Laura was asking me about anything I wanted to get out of.
So later today I’m having a planning session at the RSCH Cancer Centre to prepare for radiotherapy (SABR) – I’ll share details as I feel appropriate here, but do get in touch if, as they say, you were affected by anything in this blogpost.
The preparation video they sent me is a hoot, with helpful diagrams of the human male urogenital system and how to pee in a urinal. I’ve never self-administered an enema before, so don’t say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
Oh and please put me in the “not a battle” category and refrain from military/conflict metaphors with me, I’m grateful for your encouragement (and prayers, prayers are OK!) if you want to share. And I know it’s hard because it’s still the mainstream way of thinking about cancer particularly, but I haven’t found it helpful for me.
My attitude has always been that I have a disease, science knows what to do, thank God for science.
People who have a prostate! Have a look at the current guidelines from the NHS. If you’re as old as I was when diagnosed and have a history of this stuff in your family – get tested and get help when you need it, please.
Perfect Path 