Icelandic for beginners

This post might seem like a bad idea when the first flush of enthusiasm wears off. It is just me playing around with language, looking at an Icelandic dictionary, and trying to find words that express concepts ranging from the elusive to the mundane.

In the list below, the (real) Icelandic word or phrase is followed by the (mostly fictitious) definition. There are, however, a couple of accurate definitions, according to the online dictionary. See if you can spot them! A lump of decayed whale meat (hvalur kjöt) to the first correct entry. The winner will be notified by email. Any native Icelandic speaker, their family or employees are disqualified from entering this competition.

1. Fýlusvipur Someone who says they'll referee you for a job, but ends up stabbing you in the back. 
2. Fyrirvaralaust A stuff-up so monumental you need to go to Australia [obs.?]. 
3. Fyrirvinna As above, but less egregious. Female gender. 
4. Fyrr skal ég dauður liggja I'm taking Gary to a party.
5. Glópagull The chutzpah needed to eat a beetroot salad while wearing a white shirt.
6. Hákarl kjálkabeininu Shark cartilage.
7. Hugarangur Existential anxiety of receiving a man hug. Male gender.
8. Hugarfarsbreyting Fear of farting while receiving a man hug. Ditto.
9. Skemmd Uniquely virulent hangover from too many acquavit skols. See angst.
10. Smithætta Female descendent of Smith.
11. Stjórnmálaíhlutun Impressive sounding medical term you use when ringing in sick.

All that caper

After Tuesday's meeting with Jeremy, and the intense digestion of the information that produced, it is very pleasant to have a few low key days with nothing very notable to do. Things that there are to do are mostly culinary,  marking my gradual resumption of responsibilities in the kitchen. (Cliche alert: Jill has been doing a sterling job, ably stepping into the breach, taking up the slack, etc. Glad I've got all those out of the way! They are all true.)

This morning, after some watering, I decided to have a go at a banana bread recipe with which I have had some success. This actually turned out to be a banana and pear bread, as I only had one ripe banana. Anyway, it seemed to come out pretty well. It was rescued from disaster by my remembering that the flour was plain, not self-raising as labelled on the container. So I just added a couple more teaspoons of baking powder, and it rose nicely.

We will have that following lentil soup and beetroot salad; I haven't started the former, but have cooked the beetroot for the latter. (Pressure cooker to the rescue.) I am hoping the weather will be a bit cooler by then; lentil soup is not really a summer dish, but Jill requested it, and it will suit the requirements of the party. (Our niece is staying with us, who is vegetarian.)  I have been doing stuff for the meal intermittently, there being plenty of time.

The main problem, while I was shopping, was finding capers, required for the salad. Woolies seems to have gone out of them; I had a good look in the section where you find olives, artichoke hearts and so on, but no capers. I then asked about them in the deli, and someone came and looked in the same section as I had, to no avail. Fortunately the market was open, and the deli there had a choice between salted ones and those in vinegar. (The latter were recommended.) Capers are one of those things that is difficult for which to think of a substitute. In days of yore I used to make a pasta sauce with them and sun-dried tomatoes. Could there have been olives as well? Surely not! Anyway, it seemed pretty good with parsley and parmesan cheese on the pasta. It all sounds a bit "more is more" now; such were the days before my beloved's food intolerance diagnosis.   

From one who knows (3rd try)

Der Fisch and I had a follow-up session with Jeremy this morning. We both thought it went very well. Neither of us was exactly looking forward to it, but we both found it encouraging.

Following is a list of the points that were covered. This fairly long and technical. For those who don't wish to read it all, and I sympathise, the essential point is that I need another PSA test to determine what happens next. This will occur in mid-December.

Re this list:

• The first two points are not new information, and are thus tagged.
• The entire list will be mostly old news for the family member who has received this information by email. I have pretty much put new information in italics to save them a lot of repetition. 
• I made the mistake of dumping all the text in from the email, only to find that that all the messages above it in the in-box ended up in this post also! The only way I could get it even this good without re-keying it all in was to copy and paste that text into  various document formats, until I finally found one that stripped out all the formatting (.pdf). Then I was not able to use second level numbering as the email editor had provided. Anyway, I have done the best I can with it.

Anyway, here goes.

1. The PET/MRSA scans had revealed a cancer in the prostate and in one of the lymph nodes (old news).
2. The biopsy post-op revealed cancers in three further lymph nodes, which had not shown up in the scan. This is because they were quite small (more old news).
3. Consequently the chance of a cure is remote. (This is based on the proven ability of the cancer to metastasise, in this case to the lymph nodes.)
4. However, Jeremy estimated that the surgery removed 99% of the cancers. Because all the ones visible on the scans have been removed, and a few besides, any remaining ones should not be problematic for some time because they must be pretty small.
5. Two things have been achieved by the surgery: a) a de-bulking of the cancers, and b) improved local control of any that remain.
6. The next step depends on the PSA test which I am to have in mid-December. Depending on the numbers this returns, and how the urinary incontinence is improving, treatment from here could involve 
1. another scan (if the numbers indicate something is still afoot)
2. Androgen deprivation therapy (ADT)
3. External beam radiation therapy (EBRT)
4. a combination of the above (used successfully in metastatic lymphatic cancers like mine)
5. watchful waiting, i.e. doing nothing and just keeping an eye on things. Should something take an uptick, action will ensue.
7. Without further PSA data, he is reluctant to go ahead to give pelvic EBRT, or initiate ADT, because he doesn't know what he is trying to get rid of, where it is, etc. Also, of course all treatments have side effects, and he is reluctant to risk these without a specific reason.

I asked several questions, three of which were to do with treatment (1-3 below):

1. Question: is your treatment objective to manage and contain the cancers rather than cure them? Answer: Yes, this is the most likely outcome.
2. Question: is a combination of ADT and EBRT appropriate for this cancer? Answer: possibly, but more data is needed.
3. Question: Can EBRT increase the risk of bladder cancer? Answer: yes, but the risk is small.
4. Question: is chemotherapy used in treating prostate cancer? Answer: yes, but only for confirmed PSMA (prostate specific membrance antigen) metastatic disease. Its advantage over other treatments seems to be fairly small. [My reading: he wants to try the other stuff first.]
5. Question: when will the urinary incontinence settle down? Answer: probably after several months. Keep doing the PFM exercises.
6. Question: is there anything wrong with the occasional blood clot in the urine? Answer: No, this is quite normal. Just increase the fluid intake when blood appears.
7. Question: will other specialties (oncologist, radiation oncologist etc.) be brought in if required? Answer: if EBRT is thought to be appropriate, I will be referred to a radiation therapist. However, there is an interdisciplinary round table at Jeremy's practice where difficult cases are discussed among a bunch of different specialists. He thinks mine could benefit from this.

I felt all questions were answered respectfully and without any impatience at my becoming an instant "expert". I look forward to the next time we meet, when he will be sans the moustache he grew for Movember!

Working for the man

Today we go to see Jeremy for a follow-up session. I won't have seen him since the operation (apart from him dropping in briefly at the hospital a couple of times).

Wanting to be a more informed consumer of medical services, I have gone through the notes I took from the information session at the Peter Mac last week and written out some questions to ask. In so doing I also looked at the PCFA Research Blog and found a recent paper that looks relevant. (The link to the blog page won't resolve unless you are logged into the PCFA, but the abstract is on PubMed .) This seems positive in that ADT (androgen deprivation therapy, AKA hormone therapy) + EBRT (external beam radiation therapy) were found to give the best overall survival rate. Subject to my next PSA test, this is the therapy that Jeremy mentioned.

I am uncomfortably aware of a desire to impress or otherwise gain his approval. I suppose this is not unexpected, given that the treatment he suggests will have a material effect on how long I am around for. Of course he would suggest that treatment regardless of what questions I ask, his feelings toward me personally, etc. (I know all this rationally.) In person I have alway found him calm, approachable and pleasant, just what you want a surgeon to be. Oh well, I will just try to stay positive and take notes! (Sounds like one of those British WWII slogans.) I will share the findings of this session and those from the next PSA test, due mid-December.

I added an entry in the External Links in the sidebar for Harvard Prostate Knowledge, a site mantained by that university's medical school and Harvard Health Publications.

Blood oath

I had a pretty good day today, getting a few things done, but not trying to do too much.

At about 10.00 we went to Chadstone for a coffee and to buy a towel for my beloved's niece to use. (It seems a bit clinical to say "A house guest"; we are really looking forward to having her.) Then out of there, hooray! It was starting to get really busy when we left an hour later. I said to Der Fisch that that was going to be the extent of my participation in The Festering Season. (Have Grumpy Old Men been in touch yet, dear?)

I walked home from Burwood Village, where der Fisch dropped me en route to driving to the supermarket for a serious grocery shop. I must have found this pretty tiring as I dropped off to sleep in front of the cricket. She returned, laden with comestibles, which I received the delegation to put away. Then in the afternoon we had a visit from my beloved's sister and partner. They helped us assemble the outdoor table that we had had powder coated. A good load of ... ah ... miscellaneous stuff was also loaded into their 4WD. I just supervised, being still forbidden to lift anything. (Everyone was very nice and refrained from telling me to rack off.)  Now we have our garage back!

I had some little sticky felt tips to put on the table feet. These turned out to be quite recessed - I'm not going to try to explain this verbally - and thus two layers of the things were required. Anyway, I need to get some more to put on the chair feet. (This should not be a great problem as they are just from Coles.) So since I came home we have had the courtyard finished, the table and chairs powder coated and assembled, gotten the umbrella and base, and put everything together.  Now all we need to do is some weeding (things are getting a bit exuberant after all the sun and rain), put the chair feet on, and sit out there!

The appetite is still pretty patchy (other than for cakes, as previously 'fessed up). The squeamish can skip the rest of this paragraph. I also had a mild concern as I was passing a bit of blood in the urine, not large amounts (more of a tinge), but consistently. This was only visible at the start of the flow. I actually rang up the paging service about this and spoke to the duty urologist, who said it was nothing to worry about, and to drink some extra fluids. The last time I had a pee I passed a blood clot about 1.5 cm in length. (I know this as I fished it out and took a photo of it to show my urologist on Tuesday.) The blood in the urine stopped immediately, so I think it was just this clot getting stuck, then passing through.

Tomorrow I must get a new photo for my driver's licence and write out some questions for the urologist.

WTF, I'm sick (with postscripts)

Apologies if a degree of inelegancy is creeping into these blog titles. Apologies too for a bit of editus interruptus! I am trying to get at whether there are advantages to being sick. Maybe not outright advantages, but at least things that are not disadvantages.

Self-indulgence is one. There is a certain what-the-heck mood in which I can think "Dammit, I'm going to have a cake with my coffee". This allows you to ignore the standard "No" response that, if you say it often enough, whittles the waistline down bit by tiny bit. This response is easier to circumvent, too, if you have just gained an instant 3-4 centimetres around the middle from having your lymph nodes removed. The perverted logic goes like this: the increased  waist measurement isn't from overeating. Also, what I've got is pretty serious. So, let's party! I do know I have to get back on the sensible diet wagon soon. Like Augustine, however, not just yet.

Not being expected to do stuff is another. Indeed, I am under strict instructions not to lift anything, help my beloved bring in the bins, or otherwise exert myself. It is surprisingly easy to get used to being waited on! It is a bit of a bore, though, in some ways. We now have an umbrella stand, umbrella, and newly powder-coated table and chairs, all to go in our lovely new courtyard. Normally I would be putting the brolly on the base, wheeling it up the steps on the trolley, bringing out the table, putting out the chairs and cushions. I can't do any of that, and don't want to put it onto Der Fisch, who has been busy enough doing the aforementioned waiting! So the inaction is a bit frustrating. I hope that Jeremy gives me the all clear to resume doing things, like exercise, when we see him on Tuesday. (Breaking news! We have just negotiated a compromise; I will cook the dinner, my beloved will do the courtyard.)

Of course the big advantage is the clarity that serious illness brings. The things that matter are the only things that matter. As one who had a tendency to waftiness and going through life on auto-pilot, this is a statement I am trying to live by. Not many people would regard a serious illness as conferring an advantage, but thinking about it, it has and it does.

Just hold on there!

It is hot in Melbourne at present; fourth day in a row above 30 degrees. I am not long home from town after a mostly successful trip. (This was my first trip to town post the operation.) It started not so well when I missed the train that I was planning to catch. All my fault - I just didn't allow enough time to get to the station through the traffic. (Being retired, one tends to forget how much traffic there is in the morning and evening peaks.) Anyway, I got the next train, which meant I had time for a coffee, so not all bad. I rang ahead and got a message to the guy I was to meet. Strangely, I was dead on time, proving you can get from Camberwell to the city in half an hour. (I suppose I have Mum's punctuality mania to thank for always allowing some slack in my travel arrangements.)

I did take a couple of spare pads with me into town, and used them both. I am burning through these a bit at present, particularly the small inner ones. (I put one of these inside a big pad for extra security, giving a kind of codpiece effect; very alluring!) Anyway, I was happy to find a few hints for getting hold of these products more cheaply:

• Thanks to my brother for pointing out that they are available in the supermarket (Woolworths, in my case; apparently Aldi also). Look in the feminine hygiene department.
•  Tena will send out free samples of their products. Go to the Tena web page and select Find Your Product. Tena also apparently has an online store with free delivery, and apparently good prices. If these products suit, and I find they do, this may be a convenient way to get hold of them. 
• Babylove Newborn Nappies cut in half apparently work well in lieu (sorry about that).
• Finally, for those who qualify, there is a federal government plan to subsidise these products. It is called the Continence Aids Payments Scheme.

I read the last three of these tips in the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia online community . (NB the PCFA community requires free registration. I link to the parent site in the sidebar of this blog; see External Links.)

The appointment I had this morning went quite well. There is a bit more to disentangle before I talk about it here, so stay tuned. (Yay, here comes some rain.)

PCSG is OK!

I have just gotten back from a meeting of the Box Hill Prostate Cancer Support Group. There were about thirty blokes sitting around the table (kudos to Box Hill RSL for hosting the meeting - free parking, too!). The main group meeting began with a checking in sort of exercise in which everyone said how they were travelling. Introducing myself to a group used to really put the wind up me, but it went fine today, it being a laid back and supportive bunch. There was then some discussion about treatment-related stuff (trials in which various group members are participating), a run down of web and other resources, and a mention of a former group member who has gone into care. Approval was sought and received to make a donation to Peter Mac, where the meeting then adjourned to hear presentations and hand over the cheque. A quick toilet stop beforehand was enthusiastically patronised!

The presentations comprised an explanation of radiotherapy, an overview of new developments in prostate cancer treatment (some of which are still in the trial phase), and a talk about erectile dysfunction. The last of these was from a live-wire lady with a charming Glasgow accent from Peter Mac in Parkville. She was invited to give a talk to our group, which she accepted readily.  Everything was most interesting, and all the presenters got plenty of questions (for me, a sign of a successful gig). I took six pages of notes. The opportunity to get across some current treatment stuff was extremely timely for me as we are seeing Jeremy on 28th, when "so what happens next?" will be addressed.

Everyone I chatted to was very friendly, and I was invited to lunch afterwards. I had to decline this time, having stuff to do, and hours of information to absorb. I will definitely go to the next meeting, though, which will be the Christmas one, and look forward to hearing some war stories over a meal. As I said to the group leader, the only reason I wouldn't be there is if I was having treatment. The very fact that everyone has been through the cancer mill (albeit some along different treatment pathways to mine) meant that there was an effortless and immediate understanding. The meeting made me realise that, in spite of everyone's best efforts, love and concern, cancer can be very isolating. A group like this can break through that, probably like nothing else.

Quite liking "Loving Vincent"

Well, I went to see Loving Vincent at the Balwyn Cinema. A number of my discerning readership is accomplished in the visual arts, so I thought a mini-review might be of interest.

I had no idea, really, what the film would be about. I did absorb the fact somehow that a large number of artists had worked on making an animated feature which was based visually on Van Gogh's paintings. What I didn't know was that, instead of being a quasi-documentary, as I had vaguely imagined, there is a narrative which revolves around an undelivered letter addressed to the artist. A year after Van Gogh's demise, and following several unsuccessful attempts at delivery through the mail system, a postmaster charges his son with taking this letter to Avers-sur-Oise, the site of the artist's death. Got that? Good, read the IMDB entry; there will be a short test following! Now forget about it, and read on.

I must confess that I didn't stay until the end of the film. However, this was really because outings are still a bit problematic for me, in terms of urinary continence, and I felt like getting home. (Spare pads were definitely useful! I imagine those who have had children, or have taken them on outings, will know the drill.) I did stay for 75% of it, and would, under normal circumstances, have seen the lot. It is certainly no hardship to see Van Gogh's late period pictures so lovingly rendered on the big screen. I liked the landscap-y bits more than the dialogue. The face of each character was based on that of the actor doing the voicing, so that, for example, Doctor Jabert's housekeeper somewhat resembled Helen McCrory. The animation made the faces creep alarmingly, as if they were having a palsy of some kind. However, the cast does a very fine job, although the regional British accents are a little unexpected. (This was preferable, however, to having English-speaking actors putting on an " 'Allo, 'allo" cod French accent; still less a Dutch one.) Under the circumstances, the mystery about the artist's death didn't really register, as it might had I felt able to see the whole thing. But just drink in the visuals; they are quite stunning. And I can guarantee you will never see a film like it this year!

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

This extremely unoriginal title just popped up, and I am a bit of a believer in going with these things. It is a beautiful day, actually; maximum 30, but only about 26-27 outside, and very dry, so it feels mild. I went outside and did some watering earlier, including some hand watering for the hoya bush and a rather sick looking azalea in a tub that I have been nursing along for months. I gave this some compost and this has made it look healthier; it now has little green shoots along the branches. It needs a feed, which it is about to receive when I get to it.

Otherwise I have been making phone calls and appointments and ripping some discs to my MP3 player; all very uneventful. I have to be out this afternoon, and because it is going to be hot, I hit on the idea of going to see a movie. The only one with a suitable time is Loving Vincent, so I am going to see that. It should be nice to look at at worst. Had a fairly average night, but I am quite used to it by now. There is a meeting of the Prostate Cancer Support Group tomorrow morning in Box Hill, at which I should get some information about new treatments, particularly those involving radiation. (Jeremy said this was one of the options for me; this will be decided post the next PSA test, to be performed mid-December.)

An odd circumstance occurred this morning. I had to put the tablet on the charger, and my phone was getting a bit low as well. So I thought I would use the laptop to do the MP3s, checking a web site, etc. It turned out that I hadn't switched this on the last time I had plugged it back in, so it was nearly empty. What might this be called: digital drought? Cyber-withdrawal? Anyway, it made me realise how much I have been relying on these various devices to communicate. It wasn't always so, of course; once people read books, wrote letters, and so on. So I read a bit more of Godel, Escher, Bach for a while, before I ended up using the laptop plugged in. Just reading or listening to music definitely requires more concentration and the need to overcome FOMO.

Have been feeling quite sad now and again, but this is to be expected. We have had some difficult news to assimilate. This last fortnight, however, with my beloved at home with me, has been wonderful, mostly very serene. We are closer now, I believe. These words from A strange place, courtesy of the wonderful YANA site, definitely apply. The author, Terry Herbert, is describing the experience of men who have worked through prostate cancer to the remission stage.

They appreciate life and their loved ones more. They enjoy each day because they have had an intimation of mortality. It seems ironic that we have to be diagnosed with a life-threatening disease before we truly appreciate how wonderful our lives are.

Just right

I felt better today than I have for a few days. I think the secret is not trying to do too much and having enough rest. Like the last bowl of porridge, just right.

TMI alert in the following. We went on an extremely exciting and successful mission to buy another set of towels. (The reason? When I dry myself after a shower, there's more dripping onto the bathmat than water! I'm still socking down plenty of fluids, so it's more water than anything else, but still.) I had a coffee and a little tart while Der Fisch looked at clothes and shoes. Then I went to the bathroom and swapped over to the spare pad that I had brought (memo DJs: you need a waste-paper basket in your men's loos). Joined herself in the ladies' shoes, a quick look at slippers for my beloved's dainty foot, then home. Just a perfect length outing.

I am nearly 50 pages into Godel, Escher, Bach, something I have been nibbling away at mostly in the small hours (note I delicately avoid saying "wee small hours"). Anyway, I will be able to post some initial thoughts about it soon. Meanwhile, there was an interesting aside, which I will reproduce below:

" ... it is possible to program a machine to do a routine task in such a way that the machine will never notice even the most obvious facts about what it is doing: but it is inherent in human consciousness to notice some facts about the things one is doing. [ ... ] If you punch '1' into an adding machine, then add 1 to it, and then add 1 again, and again, and continue doing so for hours and hours, the machine will never learn to anticipate you, and do it itself, although any person would pick up the repetitive behaviour very quickly. Or, to take a silly example, a car will never pick up the idea, no matter how much or how well it is driven, that it is supposed to avoid other cars and obstacles on the road; and it will never learn the most frequently traveled routes of its owner." (p. 36-37)

I know this is from a book published nearly thirty years ago. However, I guess this indicates how even a phenomenally smart guy like Douglas Hofstadter can be overtaken by technology. Anyone with an Android phone has gotten used to the slightly creepy things it asks you, unbidden, like "Are you interested in the travel time between home and RMIT City Campus?". And it seems very likely that autonomous vehicles will be on our roads within five years. Of course this quote is getting into the vexed question of machine learning (something for which there does not seem to be an entry in the index). Is he for, against, or an agnostic? Stay tuned.

Every day in every way

You can see I am scratching a bit for a title for this post. You should see the ones I rejected; 'Freudday', 'Reverting to the mean' - please! I guess real writers go through this "OK, how am I going to prime this pump?" kind of stage, maybe several times a day. Hey, whole books have been written about writer's block, like the Bech novels by John Updike. (I'm sure the literate readership of this blog, and that's both of you, can supply other examples.) Of course, he said oleaginously, literary scholarship is the most learned of all. Why do I say this? Try doing a Google search for "writer's block books", as I just did. What do you get? A whole bunch of stuff about how to fix it! To know what novels are about what topic, unless you get lucky and stumble across a thesis like "By hook or by crook: sheep farming in Victorian fiction", you just have to have read the books. Look it up in the catalogue, you say? Catalogue records for fiction seldom have subject headings. How did I get to Bech? That's my secret and I'm not telling.

OK, now I have whetted your collective appetite, time for the day's major achievement. Are we sitting comfortably? Eagle-eyed readers of the preceding paragraph (you know who you are) will notice that I have located the double quotation mark on this keyboard. This was a triumph of deductive reasoning, if I say so myself. Pressing the key where the double quote mark should be (plus the shift key, of course) gives you the @ symbol. BUT, if you press the key marked with the @ symbol, what do you get? Go to the top of the class if you said " (or should that be, " " "?). Take that, weird bit of keyboard mapping!

So, as will be abundantly clear, I have nothing really to report today. I walked my beloved down to the gym today; this is the longest walk I have had since the op. I felt fine when I got home, but had a sleep for about half an hour. Obviously that is about my limit at present. She is currently cooking dinner, before we have which, we will have a drink. I might have to ease back on the spirits and coffee, both of which are apparently deprecated for prostate health. (Something else to ask Jeremy about, but I will knock them off just in case.) Red wine is supposed to be OK, though, so I will have to double up on that!

I will leave you with an image and caption from Troop-C, the funny part of YANA. The image:

The caption, which I will paraphrase to avoid litigation, observes that when the light is on in the US, the switch is up. However, this convention is reversed elsewhere (like Australia, now I think of it). The down-for-on switch direction may not yield quite what the good Pfizer folk are looking for. Phew, I avoided saying that I was going to enlarge on this topic in future posts!

When I'm calling you

I alluded to needing to touch base with family members before posting some new information to the blog. I have now done this, and so am free to post this information.

On Tuesday night I heard from my urologist. He had the results of the biopsy from the operation. The results were somewhat alarming. Cancer was found not only in the prostate and one of the lymph nodes, as expected, but in others of them as well. I have a Gleason score of 9, this being about the highest. Gleason, as I understand it, is a composite score denoting how aggressive a cancer is; the higher, the more aggessive. So more treatment is required. When I have another PSA test, the best treatment modality can be determined. The test will be done about mid-December. (Christmas in hospital, anyone?)

I felt quite odd listening to this; detached at first, then, as it sank in, just scared. I had neither anything with which to take notes during the call, nor the presence of mind to request a minute to go and fetch something. So after the call ended, I was thinking 'Did he really say that?'. That is one take-out for me: next time, I will take notes (as I have during consultations). This is all the more important as Jeremy's news was pretty sobering, and thus stressful to hear. (My sister's suggestion, when talking it over with her the next day, was to call Jeremy back and check that I had understood him correctly. This was excellent advice, which I followed, and I had largely understood him correctly.)

When my beloved got home, I told her; we both felt pretty freaked out, and had a drink (second one for me). Talking it over helped eventually to digest the import of the conversation, and work out what it meant for us. One thing that helped was reading someone's story on YANA. (I read this about 2.00 am when I couldn't sleep.) This is someone else with Gleason 9 following a radical open prostatectomy. The fact I fastened onto was that he is still around 7.5 years after diagnosis. When you have thought your end was imminent, that seems like a pretty good number! I know he is still around because I emailed him, and he replied the next day.

So where to from here? Obviously, I have to have the treatment required. The other thing is to do everything we can together, and do it now. (This assumes medical clearance, e.g. to travel.) Do I want to know how long that might be? Not particularly. The other thing I did today was to go to a jewellers in Camberwell, and persuade Jill to let me buy her something nice. It took some doing, but the sales lady and I overcame some spirited resistance. I could not get through without her, and I want her to have some token of what she means to me. I think she knows this, but I am learning not to take things for granted.

Midweek miscellany

A big day, somehow. Der Fisch and I dropped the Camry off to be serviced at a local garage, and we walked home (about half a kilometre). This was my first walk since coming home. I have been a bit slack about this, but I guess the increasing sensitivity from the catheter, and uncomfortable temperatures, made this difficult. I was running out of inner pads, ascertained that the local pharmacist had some, then went and got them and some more cash out of the ATM. This was my first drive since coming home.

The internet is a boon to those recovering mobility, as before. I got the second lot of pads (which arrived while I was down the street). I ordered a bunch of T-shirts and a little bluetooth speaker (for listening to music while sitting in the courtyard). I also emailed the co-ordinator of a local Prostate Cancer Support Group, read a reply to a message I had sent to a prostate cancer survivor, whom I located through YANA (see below), and caught up with events via The Age, Guardian, and Facebook. These things were all done online.

The 'net was also the source of  A strange place, a 30 page information guide to prostate cancer, from a terrific site, You Are Not Alone . (This site is included in my External Links.)  YANA is maintained by a bunch of prostate cancer survivors, the Australian wife of one of whom did the design. So it is a super functional site, fast loading (hooray!), with a huge amount of information available. The emotional impact of the PC diagnosis on sufferers and their partners is addressed. All is very non-sensational, and there is no pretension that the authors are medically qualified. The quality of the information reflects the fact that the site is built by survivors, so that they can share information and experiences with other survivors. They are entirely self-funded, so I was happy to donate them a modest sum for their web hosting and postage expenses.

The good old-fashioned phone also featured large today, communicating with family and Jeremy, my urologist. When I have spoken to everyone I will put an update here about some new information from the last of these. It was heartening to see marriage equality get up decisively. The hot weather which had kept me confined to barracks yesterday has lifted. There was quite a storm, replete with a huge crack of thunder, and an ozone smell from accompanying sheets of lightning. 

Urinary incontinence is nothing to sneeze at

Most interesting story in The Age re increased incidence of urinary incontinence in female athletes - see http://www.theage.com.au/executive-style/-gzjy2m.html . Apparently young females think that pelvic floor muscles are something yucky and for old folk. (Maybe we need a PFM Week?) More worrying is that a great proportion of those surveyed do not seek treatment for urinary leakage. This is not baby boomer males we're talking about here, but 15 - 19 year old females.

First post with the new keyboard

Yay! Just managed to pair up the new Bluetooth keyboard with the tablet. Took a few goes, and of course the instructions didn't match what I was seeing on the screen. But I can see what I am typing as I go. Feel of the keys is quite good. Even has home and end functions! Not bad at all for $15. I am sitting in the living room with the keyboard and the tablet on a tray (the one I have my dinner off). Der Fisch is still out having a massage, coffee with a friend, fringe trim and food shopping. I'm putting her to work! She said something to the effect that I would probably be back on kitchen duties next week. Still, she is holding the fort in great style.

Just had a sleep for about half an hour before having some cheese, biscuits and celery for lunch. (Ah - one of the keys just repeated! I can see one has to stab them fairly decisively. Still, it is a hell of a lot better than the handwriting recognition.) According to the Fitbit I got 3 hours 29 minutes of sleep last night, with an average of 3 hours 41 minutes for the week. So obviously not great, but not all that unusual. I still have to wait another fortnight before resuming exercise; this is probably one of the reasons for the bad sleep. When it is not stinking hot, and I have some more confidence in the urinary continence, I will go for a walk and so on.

I had a brief chat to a friend this morning whose husband has also had a prostatectomy (apparently most of the males in their circle have too). She said (and I am paraphrasing) that Jeremy Grummet was a top man in urology, something of which I was not aware. I did know that he is an associate professor at Monash, and, possibly jointly, developed a new and improved prostate biopsy method. When I read about that I thought 'I'll probably have to have one of those', which turned out to be correct, and I certainly had no infection or complication from that procedure.

Choosing a medical specialist is obviously not something for which one can rely on a Choice test! I chose Jeremy because I wanted a clinician who also had an academic role to do whatever I had to have done. I have an idea that such people are possibly more obliged to keep current with new procedures and methods. The proof of the pudding will obviously be in the eating, but so far, so good. He has always been pleasant to deal with, and is a clear and succinct communicator. I am to see him on the 28th of this month for a follow-up appointment.

Home alone

Der Fisch has swum out for a couple of hours, leaving me up to my own devices. (I convinced her to let me buy her something nice; we will go and have a look when the weather is less hot.) So I am catching up with things I let go while I was in hospital, like an eye test, and exciting stuff like that.

The peeing is getting better; I am still going through pads like anything (ordered some more online yesterday). I find that a double pad does the job well, the inner one getting quite soaked on occasion, the outer one not looking affected at all. In time I expect I can taper down on the protection. Thank goodness it is past the hay fever season; I haven't had a sneeze yet; try and remember to think "Activate" beforehand! Getting up is really the problem. I can activate the PFMs, but when I stand up and release them, gravity takes over. Re-establishing control takes time, and apparently is quite an individual thing.

My dearest got me a couple of pairs of XXL cargo pants from Target yesterday. These are just the thing, being big enough to accommodate my still quite swollen middle. The prices varied between $25 and $10 (on sale), so I'm not going to worry what happens to them! At present I am wearing a pair of shorts that is usually a bit too big for me, but are perfect at present. First independent shower this morning was exciting (well, kind of). When my tablet charges up I will try out my new Bluetooth keyboard. I ordered this, also online (a boon to the housebound), to assist with editing the blog on the tablet. I could try it out with the phone, but it doesn't say that it can pair with more than one device. It probably can, but I would rather pair it with the tablet first, then experiment.

No more catheter

It's out, thank goodness!  A bit more hairy than the practice nurse led me to believe.  But not too bad. I had a slight misadventure on the way home.  (Warning: this might be a bit TMI.) The practice nurse fitted me with a small pad after taking out the catheter. I was fine to get in the car and out again, but as soon as I released the PFMS,  I felt a trickle. Fortunately I had taken a spare, big pad and some other stuff. So I went to the men's loo in the shopping centre, changed pads, and put the rest of the stuff (alcohol wipes, Q-tips, and Novocaine ointment) in my pocket. Back at the car I then forgot that I had done this last step,  and beetled back into the men's, to find no stuff there. Then I felt them in my pocket. (I'll blame the Endone.) Anyway, I see the urologist on 28th to get the feedback about the operation. Meanwhile,  I am blessedly free of the sensitivity,  which was becoming really quite problematic, despite various measures. Bending down, no problem. I can take off my own shoes! I'l be telling the time next.

Partridge in a pear tree

I have been reading up on slang for the dangly bits (all in the interests of my readership, and science). I found an online version of Eric Partridge's Concise new dictionary of slang and unconventional  English, a PDF of about 740 pages! A search for "penis" found 742 hits. Some will be false hits in that they are picking up entries in which the word merely occurs, for example in the definition. But it is obviously an impressive list. I noted down the ones beginning with the letters A or B (there were 62), and selected those I thought  the most amusing, as follows:

• almond rock (rhyming slang)
• bacon assegai
• arrow of desire
• bald-headed mouse
• baloney pony
• bed flute
• beef torpedo
• bishop
• Black and Decker (rhyming slang)
• Blackpool Rock (ditto)
• Bobby dangler
• Boris Becker (rhyming  slang)
• brain (I think Partridge calls this "ironic")
• breakfast burrito
• bush blaster
• Canadian bacon
• captain's log (rhyming slang - not sure what for)
• cavalier.

So there we go! No shortage of colorful terms with which to refer to your boerie (a South African term apparently, derived from boerewors, a well-known type of sausage in that part of the world).

Subsequent posts will resume the usual less racy tone.

Socialising

Had a friend and former colleague around for coffee. It was great to see him and hear all about the good ship RMIT 💀. So important to keep up contacts. I have not been very assiduous in doing so, but intend to improve! A special hello to any former colleague reading this. Nil carborundum illegitimi.

I got my lovely Raymond Weil automatic back from being fixed. I got this from RMIT (and Der Fisch) on attaining 25 years in my sentence career there. Sentimental value only now - I have knocked it around over the years - but beautifully legible.

Anyone have a vote for their favourite euphemism for the male organ of generation? I have three candidates thus far. I have used the first two in email correspondence, and my brother helpfully reminded me of the third. The list to date

1. dangly bits
2. the old fella
3. todger.

Any and all other suggestions gratefully received. Please comment and share! I wonder if there is a list, or book, somewhere that rounds up all the permutations. I reckon that the pyjama python (in Barry Humphries' alliterative phrase) must attract more slang terms than any other organ. Again, if anyone knows of such a list, I would be interested in your suggestions.

Anyway, whatever you would like me to call it, I am having some sensitivity at the top of the catheter. This is being controlled fairly well with a couple of ointments - Otic, usually used for ear ailments, and a Novocaine-based one - and a cold bag. Looking forward to Monday, when the catheter comes out, thank goodness.

We got the paving in the courtyard sealed the other day. As suggested, I threw a glass of water on it, and it is fascinating to watch the water bead up - just like on a newly waxed car. I am watching Jill water out there right now. There is an automatic system, but the designer said to give the beds supplementary watering on hot days, while things are still establishing themselves. Maybe we can have a drink out there when she has finished.

Close to the surface

Some of the meds have an unexpected side effect or two. This I suspect is mainly the Endone. I was telling der Fisch about Sam Dastyari, and got very emotional and teary about it. (Not that I have any brief for Sam Dastyari; but this aggressive racial abuse is just dreadful.) l think it was possibly the Endone that was making me a bit labile emotionally. (I looked up the side effects just now and it isn't listed among them, so maybe I should just attribute it to fatigue.)

Otherwise things not going too badly. The ointments are having the effect that they are meant to have,so I am feeling much less discomfort  when I sit or stand..

Few new things

The warmer weather has enabled me to get out of the track pants I have been wearing since I came home, into some lighter weight ones. Feels good also to put on a shirt I don't wear very often. A very sweet get well card from one of my nephews and his partner addressed to "Uncle Guy" was very touching.  I am finding it easier to bend over and get up from a chair, so some abdominal strength possibly returning. Small things like this are good for morale. I also did some emailing, declining a regular meeting that I just didn't feel up to, and trying to make a time for a visit from a friend. I will have to rename myself the Lothario of the laptop!

I saw my GP this morning and got a couple of suggestions to relieve some sensitivity at the top of the catheter tube. (Happy to post the drug names if anyone is interested; just being a bit lazy to get up and fetch them!) I have applied them both and taken another Endone (got some more of those as well). If they fix this problem, I will be more comfortable when sitting, getting up, etc. So far so good. The good doctor also suggested that, if I experienced itchiness as the wound healed, to take some antihistamines, as available in Zyrtec, etc.

Currently sitting in the study listening to Rach 3 (the symphony, not the concerto) on my nice old tube stereo, from 3MBS-FM digital. Der Fisch is out at yoga. All good. We looked at some nice jewellery this morning after seeing the GP. She has looked after me so well I feel she deserves a little something; not thanks, just appreciation. Things to do:

• contact prostate surgery support group
• have a beard trim
• install recording software on my laptop and 
• record an old vinyl set (Charpentier, Lecons de Tenebrae). I also want to 
• track down a work that I heard on ABC Classic FM, a suite based on Wagner's Meistersingern von Nürnberg, arranged by Mark Wigglesworth (the conductor of the SSO on this occasion). I hope this concert is available on Listen Again. Actually, I just looked on their web site, and if it is there, it's beyond my powers to find it! (I have given up on sending emails to find out whether something is available on Listen Again, or when the truly atrocious web site is going to be fixed.) I think the ABC has a burying department instead of a marketing department.

New look for blog

I have changed the appearance of the blog by using a different theme. Seem to be finding it hard to get away from the library look! The font is different too. You may notice a new page listed in the Sidebar too, References and links.

My exciting day

So what does a day look like when recovering from prostate surgery? I omit things like emptying leg bag in the following.

2.00 am wake up, fetch whisky, have BM (aka number two)
2.30 The previous step having been rather protracted, fall asleep for another hour. Wake up, have drink (first since operation). Delicious! Johnny Walker Green. Read Forest dark, by Nicole Krauss; unfortunately rather stimulating.
Get up perhaps an hour later, disconnect and empty night bag. Put on PJs and bring cup of tea back to bed. (Der Fisch still asleep.) Read & fall asleep myself an hour or so.
7.00 Get up, empty leg bag . More tea, Der Fisch's coffee (important step this one!). We sit in the study and have that.
Breakfast: rye toast, orange marmalade, more tea.  Got to keep up those fluids!
Shower. Have to change leg bag straps. (There are two sets of straps, three in each. One set gets wet when one has a shower; change to dry set from yesterday. Hang wet straps up to dry.)
Wash out night bag and hang in main bathroom. Buy a Bluetooth keyboard and car mobile phone holder online. Get call back from nurse at urologist's clinic; very helpful.
10.30 We set out, with alcohol wipes and a spare pad, to Camberwell Junction. On the list: more undies for Guy from Target (classy!), pick up library book, dry cleaning ditto, have coffee, buy toast loaf and salad for lunch. Go to jeweller's to pick up watch that is being repaired. Find that I have misremembered message and watch not ready for collection. Explain that I had had surgery that day and doubtless was still full of anaesthetic.
12.30? Not hungry after large date scone (very nice, though!) My book has arrived; Gödel, Escher, Bach, by Richard Hofstadter. Have another Endone (bit of pain - discomfort where the catheter tube enters). We watch first two parts of Sunshine, recorded from SBS; excellent! Lie down for an hour (this is good for the wound).
Get up; feeling only moderate (discomfort around top of tube). Read some more of the Nicole Krauss. Jill cleans out garage; l do a blog entry, and show her how to switch on watering system along driveway. Have had Endone; great!
7.00 Lentil soup for dinner and a pear. Appetite a bit problematic with pain and Endone (synthetic opiate).
Watch Crimson Tide, quite a decent submarine flick. Gene Hackman, Denzel Washington.
10.00 Bed; hook up night bag, clean teeth, have meds, read a bit more. (NB the night bag thing is much easier with a nightgown; fortunately I had one in the bottom drawer, never used.) Lights out about eleven.

Apart from insomnia, Endone and night bag, fairly normal Saturday or Sunday!

Let's begin at the beginning ...

So how did all this start?

When I was having treatment for something quite unrelated (low iron), a blood test showed my PSAs to be abnormally high. Following this I found a urologist, had more blood tests, a biopsy and scans; these revealed an aggressive cancer in the prostate and pelvic lymph nodes. Suggested treatment was surgery, then radiotherapy (if required). Why not the other way? Apparently radiotherapy makes scans less successful in that it affects the tissues. So radio will be adjunct therapy, if  required.

Fortunately my urologist's practice supports its patients well by coaching them life without a prostate. This means training in how to strengthen pelvic floor muscles, and how to use these to reduce urinary incontinence.

So what next? The catheter  will be  removed in five days' time. Fortunately, having done Pilates for years, my PFMS are quite good. Will there be accidents? Of course; life goes on. Would you rather have your prostate in the grave, or have a good life without it? I'm still me, still a man, still loved. Sound ok?

And the low iron? Still to be resolved. First things first.

5 am thoughts

OK, will do this post by hand. it is pretty good, in the main. The handwriting software recognises your scrawl pretty well and moves everything to the left so you don't have to move your hand.
Main problem is the insomnia. ..Because I can't exercise very much, I do wake really early in spite of being drugged up to the eyeballs when I do go bed.So I woke up nearly 3 hours ago.Got up, made a cup of tea, fired up the tablet and read my FB page. Now having a shot at updating my blog. Of course, after lets's say four hours' sleep, you're really going to feel like exercising! Medication: Stilnox, Belsomra, Endone, and a whisky (the  last about two am). can resume exercise in about four weeks. Tablet down to 22% so will have to stop soon. . .Get up, empty night bag, read more of Nicole Krauss book. This is Forest Dark, her new novel. Very good indeed!

Read and enjoyed (updated 9 November)

Patrick Radden Keefe, The family that built an empire of pain. The New Yorker, October 2017. This is the Longform version of this story. Apparently the link I posted first doesn't work - apologies. Just click on the title of the story in the Longform page. This is a long but fascinating story from the New Yorker about the family that developed and marketed Oxycontin.

Finally finished Danubia, by Simon Winder. This is an extremely entertaining history of the Habsburg Empire. Sounds impossible? Give it a go. The author seems to have read everything on the subject, travelled inexhaustibly, enthused endlessly, and organised an empire of material better than the Habsburgs could (with very few exceptions) manage.

Nicole Krauss, Forest dark. About half way through this; most accomplished and intriguingly autobiographical. I am liking it more than Lincoln in the bardo, which was ... interesting ("noice, interesting, different") ... but more in concept than in execution. So why didn't this win the Booker? That's enough meanness for one day!

Had a little excursion today, as ever with der Fisch (will explain this later). Went to Bunnings to get a plug for the ensuite basin and some Dynamic Lifter. The former they didn't have in the exact size, but we got one 2 mm smaller. Fortunately it has a large flange on top, so the water will sit on top of the plug. The DL was the opposite problem; smallest size available was 18.5 kg. I obviously can't lift anything at present, and Der Fisch couldn't manage it. So she bought a smaller bag on our way home. This was not mega-exciting, but was enough excitement for me, as I sneezed while on our way there. This really hurts like buggery, although it wears off. Anyway, I have had an Endone now, having also emptied the bag and changed the pad, and am feeling comfortably insulated. (My first E for the day.)

Better explain Der Fisch. A saying I heard on cricket commentary years ago was to say (admiringly) of someone that they had an eye like a dead fish. This is true of no-one more than my darling wife, whose name I am, for finicking web security reasons, not publishing on this blog. Anyway, the German for this translates (as near as I can manage) to Ein Auge ungefähr ein Fisch tot. (This is probably wrong.)

Hi everyone!

Welcome to my blog. I am creating it to enable me to communicate more easily with my family and friends (who, let's face it, will be the only ones interested!). If you are reading this it's because I sent you the link. If you just stumbled across it, good for you. It is just going to be a record of my recovery from a prostatectomy. There won't be any reviews (except of books I'm reading) or anything remotely fancy.