The pre-op before brachytherapy

It was a very cold day as Gloria and I emerged from the car into the multi-storey car park and shivered. We'd taken three quarters of an hour to cross town to the hospital and now, nearly at the top of the parking building, we had to find our way to the radiology and oncology department which was in the basement.

Once there though - Gloria with her computer bag, of course - we settled down for a short wait before a briefing from an enthusiastic young nurse. She wanted to talk all about our sex life, how well I wee and poo and a raft of other conversation items that would never grace a refined dinner table. Totally unfazed, she confidently reassured us about how most problems can be solved and that the operation is all about success. Indeed, the negatives seemed mostly to be about weeing or ejaculating radioactive seeds and the appropriate responses thereto.

When the waiting ends ... and you're told the results of your biopsy

I'd been told that the results from the biopsy would take a while and so I was quite surprised to receive an appointment to see the consultant a week later. Gloria and I both put a positive spin on it which went something like this:

"They probably just want to go through the result and tell us that it needs monitoring;"
"It's going to be an all-clear - I can't have prostate cancer because I feel so great;"
"If it is prostate cancer, then it's been caught early and if treatment is needed, they'll get on with it quickly."

Visiting the urology department specialist

The invitation to visit the Urology department at my local hospital was fast-tracked. When the NHS fast-track it usually means that someone phones and tells you to get your arse over there double-quick. This was no different, although it was a letter, actually. And the appointment was a couple of days later. Yeah, no need to fret. Prostate cancer is not a fast-growing one, but nonetheless, they still had their skates on.

I went and found the Urology department, taking along my trusty minder (who shall be named Gloria, to protect the innocent). The waiting room was jam-packed with blokes of a certain age - most, to be fair, older than me. Or they looked it. Gloria and I looked at each other and she said, "Get used to this, mate."

Prostate cancer begins like this ...

You know that feeling of impending doom that comes when the sun is shining the most brightly? Well I didn't have that at all. Not a jot. My whole thing was a doctor visit to check out some irregular heartbeat which vanished straight after he put me on a 24-hour ECG and told me I would live for ever.

If it had stopped there then I'd be none the wiser and none of this would be happening ... yet. But, no. What occurred was that he said, bright and perky like, "I think we'll just take some blood tests, though. Just as a precaution." Yup - no problem. I have visions of perhaps there being thyroid issues, blood sugar levels, who knows what ... "Oh, and I'll tick the PSA one while we're at it - man of your age ... etc, etc."