Xmas was approaching and it seemed unlikely that I would receive the results of the biopsy until the New Year; but then I received a summons to attend the Urology department at Wansbeck hospital.
With my wife in tow to share the news, we met up with the Urology nurse. My wife was hopeful it wasn’t cancer, I was convinced that it was; time to find out.
It was. “The biopsy demonstrated grade group 2, with a Gleason score of 3+4=7 with cancer in 7 out of 26 cores sampled. Perineural invasion present”.
I gave my wife a winning “told you so” glance (the news was bad, but you take marital wins where you can).
The nurse said she had wanted to bring us in and give us the results before Xmas so we didn’t have to spend the festive season worrying about whether or not I had cancer (and could instead spend it worrying about the fact that I had).
She also gave me a pile of documents regarding various treatment options and the support available; cheery reading instead of watching crap Xmas TV.
The urology nurse asked if we had any questions. I didn’t, but my wife indicated that she did. I glowed inside, no doubt she was going to ask about how best she could support me on this difficult journey. But no, it was cat related.
When we lived in Thailand I had some thyroid problems which required me to swallow a radioactive pill that would kill off part of my overactive thyroid. The doctor told me I should sleep separately from my wife and avoid our cats for three days. “Avoiding the cats” was too fraught with risk and uncertainty for my wife and I was instead banished to a hotel for three days where I lived on snacks and emptied the mini bar.
The same issue concerned her now, and she needed assurance from the nurse that I would not need to live in the garage for a couple of months.
That settled, we headed home to read up on all the treatment options.
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