Photons on the Prostate - III

He’s just independent

Three things greeted my concern after a rather uncomfortable weekend, the quick onset of fatigue, sudden events of feverish bouts, the ongoing lack of appetite, and the obvious loss of my natural voice that seemed to suggest that I had a cold or sore throat, however, it was one sign of labouring through the fatigue.

If I had not had my ear bent enough through the weekend by lover, friend, colleague, and neighbour about my reticence to ask for help. I am generally independent; they say I am stubborn. Some condemned the idea that I was boarding public transportation to and from the hospital.

Rather than fight these battles, I relented and by that ceded control with the unfamiliarity that a control freak might find impossible, I am not a control freak, I just like things to be ordered as a creature of punctuality and habit.

From drive to driven

My neighbour dropped things she needed to do this afternoon to drive me to the hospital and stay the whole time before bringing me back home for tea at hers. Bless her.

My older friendly steward colleague from church gave me a ride back home from church on Sunday, putting one foot in front of another to get to church had totally exhausted me. I sat through most of the service on a day I would normally have been a steward. Everyone was considerate, kind, empathetic and reassuring, it helped.

Arriving at the hospital with just about 5 minutes to spare before my scheduled appointment, it is unimaginable how heavy the traffic was on the main or back roads, it wasn’t 4:00 PM and we were in essentially rush-hour traffic, a 21-minute drive easily extending into more than 40 minutes.

Appointments are just indicators

I booked into my suite, but there was a wait, an emergency radiotherapy session for someone bedridden and then another who was having his first session attending with his wife and soon I went to collect my neighbour from the main waiting room to the suite waiting area. It soon filled up with patients of all descriptions.

Time ticked away and it was literally an hour after my scheduled appointment that I was called with the first requirement being, please visit the toilet and do whatever you can. It was a team of men operating the suite as I regaled them with the history of Elekta, I guess even when I try not to be, I end up being a nerd, all the same.

Zap and dap

Again, to spare my blushes as I pulled down my trousers to reveal tattoos and crown jewels, they had a covering ready to which I retorted, that they had seen all sorts, I was not in the least bothered. They worked like a flight crew in setting me up in the bed, reciting and confirming measurements and settings before we had the first whirl of the linear accelerator and then I was left for the machine to do its deed.

They then referred me to a reviewing nurse who took me into an office, it was soon that I realised why her voice was a bit different, she had a voice box, obviously someone who had had radical surgery on her throat. She was efficient as she meticulously recorded all the side effects and symptoms, she gave the advice to take in more fluids and try to defeat the issue of not eating enough.

And so we go

My temperature and blood pressure were taken and there is the possibility after further review that they might do some blood tests. I still have not found out the updated PSA and testosterone results of over two weeks ago. I wonder where they are held as they have not communicated to my doctor.

That’s three done, my steward colleague from the church is picking me up tomorrow morning for my next appointment. It might be later in the week before I have a schedule that favours a late appointment. Meanwhile, there is a bit more timbre in my voice, it is probably something between a shock to the system and an adjustment to the treatment.