Let’s roll the dice

There are a variety of treatments available for prostate cancer. What is available to each patient will depend upon a number of factors including the spread of the cancer, your age and the treatments available at the NHS Trust in your area. Of course if you are rich you can “go private”,  have more options and be given fluffier pillows; but you are still going to die eventually

I was “lucky” that the cancer was likely contained within my prostate, so chemotherapy was not going to be needed. But my age was going to be a factor.

One of the possible treatments is the surgical removal of the prostate. It had been made clear to me that I was too ancient for this to be an option for me. Recovery would be long and difficult and it was very possible that my nether regions would be declared a pee and poo soaked disaster area for the rest of my life. Did not appeal.

This left me with two options.

1. Hormone treatment for up to two years, plus radiotherapy for 20 days. The hormone treatment would hinder the growth of the cancer, It would also shrivel my genitals, eliminate any interest in sex , likely grow me some cheeky man boobs and subject me to hot flushes. Menopause for men. The radiotherapy would hopefully kill the cancer, but might also damage my bladder and bowel, resulting in a temporary or permanent disruption of pee and poo processing. Fun choice.
2. I call this option “wishful thinking”; the NHS calls it “Active Surveillance”.  You are not treated, but you have regular checks to see how your cancer has progressed. If necessary, you could have some form of treatment at a later date.

Statistics indicate 10 year survival rates are similar for each option. 

After a couple of weeks reading up on the options, we returned to Wansbeck hospital to make a decision. This time we were graced by the presence of a consultant. You could tell he was a consultant because he wore an expensive suit and had a pen in his pocket. He was pleasant but did not exude warmth. I would not want him to perform my biopsy.

We discussed the options. It was clear he favoured wishful thinking. I asked what would happen if  (and when) the cancer progressed. 

“If it progressed such  that you had pain in your bones, we would put you on hormone therapy for the rest of your life.”

“Well, that’s definitely something worth looking forward to.” I replied.

He twiddled his pen.

So, I had the choice of living with the cancer growing in my body, knowing that it could never be cured and might eventually result in a life of genital shrinking, boob enhancing hormone ingestion; or I could attack the it now with (temporary) hormone therapy and radiotherapy, with the risk that the latter could cause permanent damage.

It was, for me, an easy decision. I wanted rid of the bastard.

“Let’s roll the dice and go for hormone therapy and radiotherapy”.

The consultant, trying to look supportive, gave a little smile and wrote me a prescription for hormones.

The adventure continues.