Well, I 'came out' on SaS's thread, and am still sitting here wondering why I didn't do anything earlier. A life-long interest in things medical, but I went deep into denial on this one. The thing is that it's pretty standard psychology, but other factors rode right over my logic circuits.
Much of the time that I'm ppruning, I'm on pain killers and booze. Pprune is a kind of pub replacement. Back pain has altered my life totally and I was wondering if breaking the bank and going for surgery here might have worked...Three surgeons have refused to operate back home. If I dig deep enough, I guess I was thinking what's the point in finding other problems when I'm unable to fix one that has wrecked 8 years of my life.
It's kind of frustrating to be so fit and not be able to walk far or pick up the g-child. Bugger all cholesterol, 110 over 70 and a heart lung that a 30 year old would be pleased to have. All for nowt. All by thinking the parts were as strong as the whole.
Anyway, having got very angry with a 'practice' (read unprofessional robbing
) down near the boarder, I finally found a urologist in a major town that waived a huge amount of the cost of my biopsy. The news was not good, but supposedly confined. How could they know that?
The HIFU is not approved in the US, and my chance of getting on trials has come to nothing. Back home, as you say above, has seen the NHS pull out of funding. Okay, that's pretty standard, but the timing!! Having said that, my Gleason sums out to a borderline figure anyway, they may not have approved it on that basis. My guardian angel here, said today not to hang about, a couple of months perhaps, but no more. Pretty scarey stuff.
The sudden change in bowl function and now a little pain in the gut may be psychosomatic, but I doubt it. I have only told one pal back home about it, and he reminded me that his dad had prostrate removal -- followed by popping off with cancer of the gut a while later. Just what I wanted to know.
Years ago I put a penny in a slot machine and watched the old brass needle swing round to the message..."You will die when you are 72." I can clearly remember breathing a sigh of relief then, but if I don't make 72, I want my penny back with interest.