Tag Archives: prostate

Man is Man are women

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In memory of our friend Rosemary: mementoes in the church hall

Have been looking back again – well, glancing back. Discovered a Lenton Priory of Cluniac monks founded around the 12th century in the Nottingham area. Also a connection with Buckinghamshire, and there are a Scottish branch of Lentons from the Peebles area. I wouldn’t mind a Scottish connection, but the furthest back I can reasonably go is still Peterborough-Northamptonshire and the 17th century. All those agricultural labourers.

Back in the 21st century, and time keeps slipping by, far too quickly for the most part. In 16 years I shall be 80. How scary is that? I shall have to make the most of the present day. Last night spent three hours of it watching Man is Man by Brecht at the Playhouse. Fascinating stuff, beautifully put together on the whole,and yet an audience of only about 60. I can only put it down to having no-one famous from TV in the cast. Is that all people want nowadays: either famous-from-television or high culture like Shakespeare, ballet and opera? There doesn’t seem much room for cutting-edge theatre – even cutting-edge theatre that’s over half a century old. The cast was entirely female, as it happens – the kind of joke Brecht would have enjoyed. At least I imagine he would: I have my own image of him.

Earlier in the day I had some blood removed from my arm – part for the hospital to test my PSA level, and part for a research group looking at prostate cancer. For them I also had to fill in a lengthy questionnaire packed with unanswerable questions like “How many x-rays have you had, and how old were you when you had the first?” Really! I also discovered I didn’t know what hardly any of my relatives died of. Even my mother… On the way home I kept giving way to other traffic and stopped for a woman crossing the road very slowly. Got a very pleasant feeling from being in harmony with my fellow-humans. Am I cracking up?

We had seven at Tuesday Group, which is a nice number. I revealed a little of the research I had done on the Amalekites and Dot revealed her cooking expertise again. The latter was probably  – and quite rightly – appreciated more. She has been quite busy in the educational world this week. On Monday she spent a whole day on Philosophy at a Norwich school, while my contribution to the day was yet another loss at chess. Sunday was a good day: controversial sermon by Howard in the morning, followed by enthusiastic discussion about self-esteem and the nature of sin. Some frightening ideas on the latter (not from Howard). In the evening we went to an Ambient Wonder social event at the Workshop cafe-bar on Earlham Road which turned out to involve a certain amount of planning, which I was unable to put a stop to. Good time, though.

One thing I forgot to mention: yesterday a guy from the Statistics Office called and interviewed us for about 20 minutes about our lives, work, health and so on. Part of a random survey. Very pleasant guy – just right for the job. Today I finished The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry, which is a beautifully written and poignant book which left me once again despairing at what my fellow human beings do to each other. Same sort of feeling from Dances with Wolves, which we watched a few nights ago. The Guardian typically described Barry’s book as an attack on the Roman Catholic Church in Ireland, but it’s actually a revelation of what happens when small-minded people get power they shouldn’t have. And there are too many small-minded people about.

30 August 2008

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This is the other Amy, daughter of the other Vicky, our friend at church. The picture was taken at Mangreen Hall nearly three weeks ago. Now we’re on the brink of the big event at Dunston Hall – our ruby wedding anniversary celebration tomorrow. Yesterday and today have been warm, and it should be warm tomorrow, but thunderstorms are forecast. Well, at least it will give us an atmosphere. I think we’re almost ready.

Yesterday Dot and I went into the city and had lunch at Caffe Italia before buying some chocolates as prizes for tomorrow’s quiz. Then I went home, via the Cathedral, and Dot stayed in the city for a while. I then returned the courtesy car and retrieved ours – without dents – from the Rackheath garage where it had been languishing for a couple of weeks. Got it home without incident, just in time to let Dot in.

Today Dot went to Park Farm, and I paid in some cheques and visited the Cathedral again. I have now finished my prostate account – or at least brought it up to date. Nearly 12,000 words, and 30 pages of A4. Dot has started to read it.

26 June 2008

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Our new next-door neighbours have moved in. Three large pantechnicons arrived mid-morning yesterday from Lincolnshire and spent most of the day unloading. Two of them then stayed overnight and finished unloading this morning. They left around midday, while I was in the city, paying in some cheques. The street seemed strangely bright.

Mary, the new neighbour, had warned everyone what was going to happen, and police no-parking cones were installed the previous night. We were a bit worried because Dot had arranged for our carpet to be cleaned that afternoon, but in the event it wasn’t a problem. The carpet-cleaning van got into the drive, and the operation went smoothly.

My visit to the city today was the most adventurous I’ve been, though I have been for a short walk every day this week. I’m feeling quite good, but the catheter is uncomfortable. It’s difficult to find an easy position to sit in for any length of time. And it’s strange how vulnerable you feel. What if someone punches me in the stomach? Never mind that no-one has ever punched me in the stomach – the fact that you know you’re very weak there is never far from your mind. You can sympathise with people who are always vulnerable and have to live life like that.

While I was in the city, Dot has been to see her aunt in Hethersett and paid her monthly visit to Park Farm. Phil is due round this afternoon to tell me about his day in Coventry yesterday, when he attended a meeting at The Langleys. Apparently he had a very good return journey and was able to see much of the Euro 2008 semi-final between Germany and Turkey. Turkey were all over Germany; so of course Germany won, 3-2. Euro 2008 is like that. Dot and I have been watching a bit of Wimbledon too. Natalie Dechy deserved to beat the number one seed, so of course she didn’t.

On Tuesday Dot took the MX5 up to be serviced: it passed with no trouble, which is hardly surprising in view of its low mileage. In the evening our Tuesday Group was bring-and-share, and the six of us had a great time: an exceptional feeling of togetherness. I felt pretty good during it all, but of course tired afterwards. I’m reading a couple of books: one by Umberto Eco which is beautifully written and unusual – about a man who loses all his personal memories, but can remember the plots of books. The other is a criticism of the emergent church which has huge holes in it but also some points I haven’t made my mind up about yet. Lucy also sent me an Amy Carmichael book which I have barely started. And I thought I would have loads of spare time! I got out about a dozen videos out of the garage to watch in bed, but so far I’ve only seen a selection of Hancock episodes, which are certainly cheering.

The district nurse came to see me on Tuesday as planned, and removed the dressing from my drain wound, which seems to have healed well. The operation scar also seems fine, and my general functioning down there seems to be sorting itself out. Roll on Sunday, when the catheter is removed. That will seem a huge step in the recovery process.

The weather this week has been quite summery (apart from some brisk winds), which has been good for me, because it means I can go for walks and enjoy long bright days. Hard to believe that the nights are already drawing in – in fact I think I shall refuse to accept it. I’ve written a couple more poems based on the hospital experience, making about five in all, I think. They probably need a bit more work, but two or three of them are quite reasonable.

21 June 2008

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Another picture from Winterton, this time me on my last excursion before the operation, when we walked in the valley that leads down to Hemsby. Dot was the photographer. She has just gone out to the cinema to see Sex and the City. I would also quite like to see it, but I don’t feel up to it yet – not quite at ease outside, though the catheter seems to be working OK. I was extremely annoyed this morning to get a letter saying it would be taken out on July 5 – a week later than anticipated. I have already put in a phone call, but of course there’s no-one there on a Saturday, or if they are, they aren’t responding. When I can get hold of someone I shall try and get it taken out next weekend, which is what the consultant said. It’s a bit of a drag being attached to it all the time.

Other than that, things seem to be going well. I’ve been feeling quite strong, though I had to lie down yesterday afternoon while Dot went to Blakeney to meet the Evetts and friends, who are having the annual reunion there. Sad to have to miss it, but all being well, we’ll be back next year!

Have done quite a bit of reading, plus catching up with e-mails and old newspapers. Tomorrow, if I feel OK, we may go over to Poringland to see the Walpoles, who are in temporary residence at the Robinsons’.

19 June 2008

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A longer gap than I’d anticipated. My operation – a radical prostatectomy and hernia repair – took place on June 9, and the first three days afterwards were pretty unpleasant. I was in quite a bit of pain from trapped wind, for which they gave me morphine, which in turn gave me extremely unpleasant sensations, distorting reality and slowing down time. Yes, it really happens – or possibly doesn’t really happen, but you think it does, so effectively it does. Maybe it speeds up your brain. Sounds harmless, but it’s very frightening. Shutting your eyes doesn’t help.

By late Friday, however, that was going away, and then it was a gradual struggle to get my temperature down (I was fighting some kind of low-grade infection) and everything back to operating normally. Eventually it happened, though I wouldn’t say my bowels are quite right yet, and of course I have to wear a catheter for a couple of weeks. (This blog is not for people with weak stomachs.) Dot brought me home yesterday at around 11am. I have been told not to do too much – an instruction I am happy to comply with without argument.

While I was in hospital Dot visited twice a day: in the early days this was a life-saver. I also got many, many other visitors. On the Sunday – Father’s Day – my son David drove over to see me as a surprise, which was fantastic, because I was just beginning to feel like something approaching normal. He brought me a book he had been reading – House of Suns, by Alastair Reynolds, which I consumed over the next three otherwise boring days. I can thoroughly recommend this for reading in hospital when feeling and getting better: it’s a great science fiction story and compulsive, easily overcoming peripheral distractions.

While I was in hospital I wrote a few poems (or parts of poems) which I’m hopeful about. I was in a bed with a view across the fields and lots of sky. Five other men in the room: two of them were there when I arrived and still there when I left. Lots of good old Norfolk tradition in there which I hope to write about in due course.

From the outside, hospital looks full of things you want to avoid at all costs: tubes attached to your limbs and torso, frequent injections and blood-taking, catheters, wound-drains – all invasive of your body. When you’re in there, none of that is very significant and you hardly notice the very minor discomfort involved. Presumably this is because something much bigger is happening to you and you have no control over it. You have to just let it happen. Other than the pain and the alienation (see first paragraph), it’s not so unpleasant. Just tedious. One of the worst things is waiting for doctors and nurses to do things: something more important almost always intervenes. A new understanding of the word “patient” has become very clear to me.

I was very fortunate to be in hospital at this time of year, when the days are extremely long. It was not really getting dark till well after 10pm, and the sky was brightening at 3.30am. It was intriguing to watch the changes in the weather. Almost every morning dawned bright and promising, and almost every time rain came later, usually around mid-afternoon after the clouds had gradually gathered. Yesterday as I left it was very windy and spotting with rain – not like flaming June at all. Went out in the garden just now and it’s not exactly sun-drenched, though it’s dry and easily bearable without a coat.

The Walpoles from Canada have landed in England, and we hope to see them at the weekend. Not going too well for them so far, Pete’s GPS has been broken, and one of their suitcases was lost in transit.

The picture above was taken on Winterton beach earlier this month.

8 June 2008

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Dot seen through the remains of a building at Winterton, where we went for a shortish walk this afternoon. Today brought a more than welcome change in the weather, which had been grim all week. The sun came out, and it was warm, with a fresh breeze from the north. We walked out to the beach and then into the valley and back along the dunes.

Enjoyed this morning’s service, where I preached about faith, with special reference to people having their prostate out (!) Used two of my favourite three biblical passages, Job 19: 25-27 and Daniel 3: 17,18.

Yesterday was pretty wet, and I did not venture out, but I did manage to write a piece for my website, among other things. I thought today would be my last chance for a while to go for a walk. On Friday evening we had dinner at Dunston Hall, which was good without being outstanding. Very enjoyable, though, and some good wine. Company excellent (Dot).

Just back from church, where seven of our friends met with us to pray for me and my operation tomorrow. Felt inspiring just to be there, and now feel confident that all will be well. Many others have also said they’ll be praying and thinking of me.

This will probably be the last entry for a while. Should be out of hospital by next weekend, but not sure I’ll be feeling up to writing a blog. We’ll see. June was never my favourite month.

3 June 2008

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Dangerous threesome in typical pose on the Whipsnade train: Dot and Oliver pose for the camera while Amy is suddenly interested in something else entirely. I was minding the buggy while the train set off on its 20-minute journey and the rain started to fall after what had up to then been a very pleasant day. Well, it continued to be pleasant: it just became wet.

Yesterday I went for my cystoscopy, with results that turned out to be “normal” – or as normal as you can be with a camera in your bladder. Uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. He was in and out so quickly that it was hard to see how he could be so sure. Still, ours not to reason why; ours but to do, and hopefully stay alive. Halfway through the afternoon I got a call from the hospital telling me my operation is scheduled for next Monday, which came as a bit of a shock. Interesting how you can be quite blasé about having your prostate out in three weeks’ time, but be reduced to a quivering wreck when told it will be next week. Fortunately Diane, who is giving me some spiritual healing, turned up at just that point, so I had to sit down and relax. Hard to turn my mind off, though. I was working out what would have to be cancelled, who I’d have to tell, what I needed to sort out and so on. In fact if all goes well having it next week will be ideal, because I should be recovered in time for most of the summer events.

I e-mailed the Murrays to tell them what was happening, only to discover that Roger has not been at all well and may have something similar – so they probably won’t be coming in August anyway. Dot had quite a conversation with them on the phone and is very disappointed, as she’d hoped we could celebrate my recovery!

Today we finished watching a TV epic called Flood, which is all about London being inundated by a sea surge. Full of holes (ha!) and not very satisfactory. Instead of fleeing to high ground and drowning on the way, why didn’t everyone go into the nearest building? The first floor would probably have done.

We’ve just been to the supermarket to pick up food for tonight. Quite an oppressive day, or maybe I can’t get the operation out of my mind.

25 May 2008

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This is Dot (right, if you’ve not been following so far) with our friend Stephanie, with whom we lunched at Cafe Rouge last Tuesday, when the weather was quite reasonable – as it was right up to last night. Today is pretty appalling – very wet indeed and by no means warm. Such changeability is all very English: maybe I should warn my cousin’s daughter Jeanette, who has just told me she and her husband are moving to Cornwall from South Africa. On the plus side, Cornwall is probably safer. Sandy, my Cape Town-based cousin (other side of the family), is installing an electric fence after recent violence not far from her house. She is also installing a swimming pool, though. I am hoping the pool is not too near the fence.

In the evening on Friday – catching the threads of my last post – Dot and I went back to Wroxham Barns to buy an arch for the garden. I had originally thought it far too big, but when we measured it, and the space, it was clearly OK. Dot has much better powers of visualisation than I do. It is now safely installed, and the surrounding foliage has been given instructions to flow over it. On the way back we called at our friend Ed’s, where he and a couple of other friends were meeting to pray for me. Sat out in the garden, and I had a rare lager. The lager wasn’t that rare; it was me drinking it that was unusual. I only drink lager in hot weather and when I’m very thirsty. Pretty much.

Yesterday was warm and quiet: I spent most of it going through a whole pile of magazines and newspapers that I had been meaning to read, and Dot was writing her school inspection report. We took some time out to erect the arch. Or to be more accurate, she took time out to put the arch together, and I helped her stand it up and tighten the nuts. This morning we went to church, where I was leading the service, and Dot and Phil were playing the music. Pouring with rain, but we left feeling very good. So many kind friends.

Dot is now visiting her aunt at Hethersett, who has a problem with her arm and needs some help. Sacrificially, I stayed at home and watched Lewis Hamilton win the Monaco Grand Prix. Everything seems to be pushing me towards the operation on my prostate, but I haven’t finally decided. As I told a friend, it’s like sitting in one of those restaurants where you can’t choose between several things on the menu, and you end up with the one you were inclining to at the moment the waiter happened to arrive.

23 May 2008

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Another picture from Jim and Ann’s visit: this one taken at the new boardwalk by Cockshoot Broad, close to Woodbastwick.

It’s still only 7.45am, but I couldn’t sleep after I woke about 6, though I slept very well till then. Have just finished listening to a conversation between Leonard Cohen and Philip Glass on iTunes, which was excellent – particularly Cohen on the subject of good poets who never get published. Last night I actually managed to win a chess game, though it was on a knife-edge at the end. I don’t know whether I should attribute the victory to the fact that the person I was playing had broken up with his girlfriend half an hour before we began, but I did actually play well, as I had done in the previous two games, both of which I lost. The second one – here on Wednesday night – was particularly annoying because I had a clear win on two occasions. This may have been part of the reason I was so down most of yesterday after barely sleeping on Wednesday night, but things generally seemed to get on top of me.

Dot was out most of the day at a training day for church school inspectors – one of these pointless exercises that administrators love to put on to justify their existence (my words, not hers). If people are already doing an excellent job on a regular basis, why waste time telling them what they already know? I was at home most of the day – which showed signs of becoming really summery – but went to get my prescription pills and to post a letter. A friend came round to discuss the Meditation website: we agreed the front page was pretty awful, but it need someone who knows what they’re doing to alter it. Spoke to David on webcam, and he has installed Twitter for me, largely so that we can see what each other is up to!

In the evening, while I was playing chess, Dot went to a DCC meeting which lasted a very long time: not sorry to have missed it.

Today is the day, of course. I see the consultant at 11.20 to see what state the cancer and I are in, and what should be done about it. More on that story later, as Kirsty Wark would say.

And here it is. We were actually called in early, but then had to sit and wait for a while, which was rather annoying. The good news is that the cancer has not spread out of the prostate. But I now have to make a decision on whether to have radiotherapy, which is long-winded but doesn’t involve cutting into my body; or to have the prostate removed. Both have similar risks as far as incontinence and impotence are concerned. An interesting additional factor is that I have a hernia that could be fixed at the same time if I have an operation. I also have something a bit odd to do with the wall of my bladder, which means I’m having a cystoscopy some time soon to check on it. Nothing to do with the prostate, apparently.

After getting the news from Mr Sethia, the consultant, Dot and I had a long chat with one of the specialist nurses, which clarified one or two issues. We then decided to go to Wroxham Barns to pick up the framed pictures for Vicky. We also had a baguette and ginger beer in the restaurant, all of which was very pleasant. A kind of muted celebration.

9 May 2008

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Just back from a couple of restful days with Audrey at Bury St Edmunds. This morning we went for a walk around Thurston – about three miles – with Dot and Audrey clearly in charge. Beautiful warm weather and a welcome breeze, much as it’s been all week. We had lunch at a garden centre. Yesterday we went to Lavenham, then had an evening meal at the pub down the road from Audrey’s house – Moreton Hall. Excellent steak and chips, and the others were very complimentary about their curries.

Dot needed a rest because she’d had an Exclusion Panel on Tuesday, which is always a bit wearing. Also our son is in a lot of pain from what seems to be a kidney stone – it’s just recurred, and he went to the doctor’s today. Much more concerned about him than about me. I feel more or less OK, though I haven’t been sleeping too well, and have got dates for my MRI scan and my x-ray – both next week. Vicky’s birthday tomorrow, and David has baked her a cake despite his pain – well-known Lenton stubbornness coming to the fore. She insisted he went to the doctor today.

Meanwhile my sister-in-law’s brother has died suddenly of a heart attack, I have to go to Coventry next Friday for a case meeting about my brother Andrew, and my cousin Anne and her husband Jim are arriving on Sunday for a few days. I also need to arrange meals with several friends – one of whom has just been bereaved. You know what they say: time is what prevents everything happening at once – lately it doesn’t seem to be working.

While at Audrey’s I did manage to write three poems – one to go with Lucy’s proposed film for Paston, one to go with Annette’s picture, and the other a fairly random one based loosely on Lavenham and the nature of reality, whatever that is.