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'Rumors of my demise may not have been greatly exaggerated.'

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July 2018 update…

My health continues to be a pain in the ass, although 'ass' is perhaps inappropriate when considering prostate cancer (which, my surgeon reliably informs me, I almost certainly have).

'What, me… worry?', I'm not unduly bothered because whether I have or have not isn't something I can influence.

My way of dealing with the wait for diagnosis is to 'hope for the best, expect and plan for the worst'… which to me is more pragmatic than unduly negative.

Best-case it's minor and easily treated.

Worst-case 'I'm riddled with it'…so it'll be time to hastily make a short bucket list. (Allman Brothers, tub of ice cream, another beer with which to watch the sun dip.)

(So, sooner rather than later, in my idea of a lifestyle-change I'll be eating more stilton and watching that series of Poldark I downloaded but had been saving for the winter nights.)

I've had a decent life, for which I'm thankful. I'll need to remind myself of that when the reality hits and I'm curled foetal-position wailing like a baby. 🙂 (Some of those Poldark episodes can be quite sad.)

So yeah… we'll see. And then deal with things accordingly.

As I said, 'not unduly bothered' (as evidence of which I'll mention I briefly fell asleep during an MRI the other morning), but it'll be good to get the diagnostics completed so I've a better idea of time ahead.

I should get my 'Congratulations! You have cancer.' confirmation on Jul 11.

I'm wondering whether I should dress-up, in case it's like an Oscars ceremony. (Probably not.) Or maybe throw a cancer-confirmation bash.

September 2018 update…

Well, seems the world's stuck with me awhile longer.

Although my prostate is 'riddled with it', a suggestion that the rot had metastasized to my bones turns-out to have been inaccurate.

So, for now cheated-out of my dirt-nap, I'll continue with testosterone-blocking meds (that Neil diamond song 'Girl, you'll be a woman soon' could be oddly apropos) ahead of subsequent radiotherapy.

Given time, this thing'll likely still kill me… but more slowly than previously thought.

December 2020 update…

I likely have 3-5 years, before it’s time to check-out.