Two weeks on from Brachytherapy - how am I doing?

It's been a bizarre couple of weeks. Gloria took the week after my operation working from home, with the expectation that I would be too feak and weeble to look after myself. As mentioned previously, I was a bit groggy from the anaesthetic and sore from the needles, but that was it.

The second week has found me hale and hearty, with a good appetite, keen to go on long walks, no fatigue. I had one night when I was up twice in the night - too much water the evening before, methinks! Waterworks are a little slower and I'm giving them time - seem to be spending a lot of time on Twitter, on the loo. That stratagem seems to work OK and I've not been caught short. Mind you, the beach side walks are peppered with public loos so there's unlikely to be a problem round here.

Brachytherapy. One week on.

It's exactly one week since I had my brachytherapy implants of Iodine-125 radioactive seeds and I have to say that I don't feel a lot different at the moment. This may of course be the lull before the storm and Gloria is watching my every move intently, analysing me for any possible sign of outcome.
"Have you found any seeds yet?"
"Nope."
"Not even when you wee?"
"No."
"Let's look at your bruises ..." There follows an embarrassing lying on the bed with legs in the air while Gloria peers at my scrotum area with intense interest. "I can't believe you heal so quickly."
"Me neither."
"What about your poos?"
"Gloria!"
"Well, I'm just being caring. You know ... like I'm supposed to."
"Yeah, well that's lovely. Thank you. I'm all fine. I'll tell you when I'm not."
"I'm sure you will!"

Radioactive condoms?

Gloria's dedication to my comfort and pleasure knows no bounds and therefore, on a shopping expedition to Tesco, she decided to wander the condom aisle, looking for (in her words) "radioactive condoms".

The thing is this; when you've had brachytherapy for prostate cancer you have dozens of radioactive "seeds" inserted into the prostate. As you know, (well you do now) the prostate delivers the fluid in which sperm float and so, if you have sex ... when you have sex ... the fluid may possibly contain one or more of these seeds. It's not something that a lady of Gloria's delicate sensibilities wants floating up into her personal areas, not least because it could in theory do her damage.

Night on the ward

My sleep may have started at 9:30pm, but it was soon disturbed by the goings-on on the ward. Considering there were only three others in the room, they all had their own particular way of ensuring my sleep was broken. It has to be said at this point, however, that I had my own way too as I snore like a moose when asleep (certainly not when I'm awake though).

It was the music that got to me first. The opening four notes of Magic Roundabout: da-da-da-da ... da would normally follow. What's that? Oh, it's some instrumentation saying that it needs checking. The guy next to me was constantly monitored with drains in his leg and he was the most musical of all. He also had Mungo Jerry's In the Summertime which I think was the blood pressure monitor because we all had that set of notes at various times in the night.

The day of the brachytherapy operation

The morning dawned bright and clear and I was up with the lark ... well, with the alarm, actually that Gloria had set for six-thirty. I needed to be up quickly because my last chance to eat was before seven-thirty and I didn't want to faint with hunger before going down for the op at either 1pm or 3pm.

Gloria brought me tea and toast in bed - what a treat! Then we were up and about, getting some cereal down us before getting showered and putting the last things into the overnight bag. Then, the best part - a micro enema. Gloria had asked if she could administer it - absolutely not! It was a little tube of stuff with a long spout that had to be inserted right up your bum and then squeezed - and keep squeezing as you pull it out. Did that and then sat on the loo and waited. It didn't take long ... about five minutes and all of a sudden my back passage was clear and sparkly. Then it was time for a shower.

First consultation with the clinical oncologist

With all the results in, I was swiftly given an appointment to attend the oncology clinic at the local hospital. It all starts to feel very real at this point as they confirm with you your treatment decisions and make the necessary arrangements.

Once again, Gloria came with me (she's a brick) and still didn't bring her laptop. You know it's serious when she's paying attention like that! The waiting room was light and airy and there was a low buzz of activity as people wandered in and out, some carrying folders, others looking important. We waited with a few other folk - a lot of old men, unsurprisingly - and pondered the fact that cancer patients can get free parking. One wonders why particularly that group is singled out for that privilege.