Prostate Cancer: Maybe?

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The photo is of the Tees Transporter bridge, taken in August 2012 on a cloudy day. One of my favourite bridges.

I’ve known about prostate cancer for a long time. Back in the early nineties, my father died of cancer, it started with prostate cancer.

According to the prostatecanceruk.org website, I have a greater than normal chance of getting it. The page you land on has a risk checker, it might be worth taking it.

Last week I was in Liverpool to keep my 96-year-old mother company, while my sister went for a long weekend in Iceland.

I drank a large quantity of beer with my friend John. John is one of my oldest friends, we spend hours sitting in interesting pubs, putting the world to rights, reminiscing, talking about the many things that interest us.

I always try to stop drinking fluids sometime before I go to bed, so I don’t have to get up during the night for a pee. I very rarely need to get up at night to go to the toilet, even when drinking large quantities of real ale.

But a number of times during the nights I was in Liverpool, I felt the need to go. When I went, not much came out. During the day I was going to the toilet normally.

A change in behaviour, which could indicate prostate cancer.

Maybe it’s the beer, I thought.

Last Monday I came home, but the problem did not go away. I spoke to my wife about it yesterday evening and decided to talk to my GP as soon as possible today.

The upshot of that talk is that I have a PSA test next Tuesday. I’ve had two blood tests recently, in both cases the results were back the next day. So next Wednesday is either a good or a bad day. Not long to wait.

I also have intermittent pain in my lower back, I didn’t know that this could also be a symptom. The back pain always seemed to occur when I was carrying a large rucksack on my back, I assumed that it was caused by carrying it. I thought, at 69, maybe I’m a bit too old to be carrying a large rucksack.

So, I have a meeting with a MSK (Muscular Skeletal) specialist a week next Wednesday.

Things seem to be happening quickly.

One problem is who do you tell. My wife knows. My friend John knows.

My mum, sister (sorry Alison) and brother don’t know yet. This is because my mother lives with my sister, and because of her age, I don’t want to worry her at this point. If the news is bad, I’ll be straight over to Liverpool to tell them. John’s hoping not to see me for a bevvy next week!

The next post about my Prostate Cancer is here.

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