When I woke up today I found I was thinking about prostate cancer treatment; not just my prostate cancer treatment, about which I must make a decision in the next few days, but prostate cancer in general. More specifically, my mind was going over the timing of that treatment and as I put on my dressing gown and headed for the stairs, the term lackadaisical came to mind, What a strange a word that is. I should look it up in the OED.
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| Prostate cancer (PCa) under a microscope |
But when I got downstairs, I remembered something else: I need to reconfigure the WiFi. Most of our devices work fine, except the printer, and I need the printer to make paper copies of the latest correspondence from the urologist.
I didn't fix the printer this yesterday, when I realized there was a problem, because my partner, CC, was using the Internet at the time. That would not have been a big deal six or seven years ago, but these days CC suffers from chronic fatigue and is cognitively impaired due to two brain haemorrhages and an insidious genetic condition. She also sleeps until nine in the morning most days and so stuff like reconfiguring the WiFi router is best done then.
Today, by the time I made my cereal and coffee and sat down to catch up on email and news, I could already hear CC getting up to go to the bathroom. When that happens I listen for her to walk back to her room because, if she is not planning to go back to sleep, she will typically call downstairs to ask for a beverage. Today she requested a ginger ale, not the usual tea or hot chocolate. I took her a glass of GA and decided to do the WiFi tomorrow.
Which was fine because I need to write down the big idea I had when I woke up this morning thinking about the days that have passed between the various stages of my prostate cancer diagnosis and treatment. The idea? Write a diary!
Yes, I know writing a diary is not an original idea. Indeed, it would be natural to expect that a human in their eighth decade, one who has been writing stuff for seven of those decades, an educated chap who for many years earned a living from his writing, would be no stranger to keeping a diary. Yet somehow I've managed to get this far without keeping track of my thoughts any actions on a daily basis.
Of course, as a true writer, an old school writer, the thought "must write a diary" was not immediately followed by the act of putting pen to paper. No, my first impulse was to tell myself I needed to buy a diary to write in. So maybe the next step on this journey is a trip to Sainsbury's. Grab an early lunch and ponder my prostate cancer treatment options. Given the stage I am at, the basic choice is between surgery to remove the prostate, or radiotherapy to
rgan-confined, grade group 3 prostate cancer
Music: Medicine Show by Big Audio Dynamite
Nutrients: Did not find a suitable diary at Sainsbury's, but picked up a nice roasted chicken.
Meds and such: Daily Pills ✔ G&T Tonic ✔ Spermidine✔ CBD ✘ Banana ✔
Terminology: OED = Oxford English Dictionary, specifically complete version, which is 1000 pages long because it details the history off all English words. You can access the basics online, but the gory details are firewalled. Today I realized my annual subscription has lapsed. It's £100 per year for Brits, which is a bloody cheek because it's only $100 for Americans. That's currently about a 25% discount. I could maybe VPN my way to paying dollars, but not today.
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