Are you sitting comfortably, you might not be by the end of this blog, but I genuinely believe that blokes need to talk about these things. I was listening to BBC Radio London this morning. A guest on the morning show was saying she'd directly saved four lives through her work raising breast cancer awareness. That is a great thing and I am proud to say that this series of blogs has saved the lives of six people, who have taken the trouble to get in touch and tell me that it inspired them to get checked out, and the checks uncovered symptoms that required treatment. They will not be joining the 12,000 men a year killed by prostate cancer, making it the second biggest killer. I've been saving sharing this story until now, but at The False Dots gig at the Dublin Castle on the 21st, a stranger came up to me, introduced himself and his wife. They were from up North. They had come down specially to see The False Dots. Why, eight years ago, he'd read my blog, had a PSA test and found he had prostate cancer. It hadn't spread, but he had to have it removed. The Doctors told him that it had been caught just in time. They thought they'd 'got it all' but weren't sure. After five years, with a zero PSA reading, he was declared clear. They fancied a shopping trip in London and decided to watch the band and say thank you. He then said "Can I buy you a pint, I can't really ever repay you, but its the least I can do". He then said "It was great seeing you up onsateg doing your music, life goes on, doesn't it?".
We had a pint, discussed football, music and life for ten minutes. Although we only spoke for ten minutes, he felt like a brother. Just before he left, he went to the loo, his wife turned to me and said "You don't know what it means to me that he read your blog and had that test, the thought he wouldn't have seen his Grandaughter is too horrible to contemplate". She then said that he was doing a lot of work in his home town with a Prostate group and often pointed people at my blog. When he left, we gave each other a hug and wished each other luck.
Eight years he's been clear. Dull and boring. Not words that will excite you, set your heart racing or make you lie back with a cup of tea and think "Thank you Lord" (or other expressions of gratefulness as appropriate as to your beliefs). However, when you have had surgery for cancer and you are having your annual review, the the duller and more boring it is, the better. In August 2023, I had surgery to remove a cancerous prostate. At the time, I felt like my world was ending. The side effects of my operation are infertility (100% guaranteed as the seminal vessels are removed), incontinence (maybe for about 50% of men in the first six months, dropping to 10-15% after a couple of years) and erectile dysfunction (50-60% of men). I had nerve sparing techniques that markedly improve the outcomes with regards to contenince and erectile function. These technioques were only available if you went private at the time, although I believe that NHS trials are now underway. I found the prospect daunting. My outcome was pretty good. I am continent, I was almost immediately, and have a degree of sexual function, which is markedly improved with cialis. I have days when the cup is half empty and days when the cup is half full.
It took me a week to fully process this meeting. We'd just finished our gig and I was buzzing. I was elated to hear his story. I never really think of myself as one of the good guys, but for a moment, I felt that God had put me here for a purpose and I was living up to his plan. I don't want to come over all religious, but it is the only way I can describe that feeling. The guy wasn't slushy or sentimental. He was a proper bloke, who just felt saying thank you was important. But afterwards, in a sober, quiet moment, I realised that it wasn't meeting him that really made an impression. It was his wife's words "the thought he wouldn't have seen his Grandaughter is too horrible to contemplate". When people have said to me "I can't bear the idea of not being a whole man", I've always struggled to find the words to give a serious response, which might persuade someone that it will be OK. She didn't have to say anything, but in one sentence she cut through all of the waffle, bullshit and everything else. For that I will be eternally grateful. His Grandaughter is two. I never knew any of my Grandparents. I always felt robbed and a tad resentful. All of my siblings were born before my maternal grandmother passed away. They all have memories and would talk in hallowed terms of 'Nana'. There is a little two year old girl, who will know her Grandad, because eight years ago he read my Cancer blog and got a PSA test.
We don't always realise our value and worth to those we love. Life isn't perfect, we are not perfect, but when we go, we leave a massive hole in the lives of people we love. A hole that cannot be filled because each of us is unique. So if you are over 50 and especially if you are deemed at risk (close blood relatives have had prostate cancer), please consider a PSA test. It ain't perfect, but six people have read my blog and caught the bastard disease before it spread, so it is not a waste of time. Just consider, in sixty odd years time, when I am long gone, a lady may just be telling her grandkids tales of how she spent time with her lovely grandad and how much she loved him. Why? Because he had a PSA test.
It's not been fun for me. But that short chat on the 21st made me realise that the cup isn not half full, it is overflowing, but with a very different brew to the one I thought I ordered at the bar.
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