Portsmouth – Page 6

My Prostate and Me – Part 2

Some of you may have read my previous post on this subject. I realise that I left it as something of an open-ended, cliff edge item. I had intended to follow-up fairly quickly with the following but for some reason I found I couldn’t seem to find the time ??? Yet I managed to post on other matters. Go figure.

Since I am on the cusp of the next stage I felt I should bring this up to date, so here goes.

18 Months ago (or so) ….

….. after informing me that I did in fact have Prostate Cancer, Dr Hodgson proceeded to give me the details. The results of the biopsy and so forth. I think I am taking it all on board but in reality the enormity of my situation is quite overwhelming. Its only when he gets up and leaves the room in search of some leaflets that I really feel something. I’m not sure what it is but I have the sensation that something has just come down over me, like a sheet sliding over me. Not heavy but just there.

Dr Hodgson returns and we talk over things for a while longer. The net of this is as follows:

My biopsy has shown that I have Prostate Cancer, this is not good news, however you look at it.

I have a Gleason figure of 6 (3+3) 1% on the left side & 7 (3+4) 8% on the right side. This is relatively good news. Gleason figures in the 1 to 5 range are better. It is later explained to me that 3+4 is better than 4+3 even though they both add up to 7

I am 60 and, apparently, this is a good thing too as, with a following wind, I have maybe 30 -35 years ahead of me.

My options are :

Surgery – Whip it out and chuck it away
Radiotherapy – External High Energy X-rays
Radiotherapy – Brachytherapy (Nuclear bullets)
Active Surveillance – Regular 6 monthly blood tests to monitor the PSA levels and an annual biopsy unless something changes.

The last was not offered as an option and I had to ask if it was available because I had read about it on the web. Dr Hodgson said that it was an option but he hadn’t offered it as at my age it was more likely that I would eventually have to take one of the other options.

So, I pondered a while then opted for option 4.

My main reasons are a strong fear of people cutting in to my bod. Well that one aside I am also concerned about possible side effects of surgery. After all the Prostate Cancer, isn’t causing me any pain or other symptoms at this time. Whereas, surgery could introduce me to a few negative issues. i.e. infection and damage to surrounding body parts including the bladder. Both of the Radiotherapy options come with potential negative effects which include bladder control which I am not about to give up just yet.

Nope, on the whole, I preferred the idea of Active Surveillance. And that is what we have been doing for the last eighteen months or so. Every six months or so I have had a blood test to measure the PSA and after each test I have had an appointment with a consultant. Each test, other than the last, has shown a slight increase in the PSA. The last showed a 0.1 decrease which in my book is negligible. At the last consultant review we discussed that part of the Active Surveillance regime is a regular biopsy.

And here we are. I am about to go into hospital for a “Template Biopsy”. Instead of grabbing their samples via the back passage, using an ultrasound probe with local anaesthesia, they will knock me out with a general anaesthetic and take many samples using a “template” grid to give them a more accurate idea of what is going on with my prostate. These samples are taken through the skin between the back passage and my undercarriage.

Personally I am really pleased that this will be carried out under GA.
So there you have it. I am about to go into hospital to be shot blasted in the gusset region with 20, 30 or 40 needles.

I will update you on how I get on, if and when I am able to sit down again. And here is a pretty flower for those of you traumatised by the idea of a template biopsy.

Animals !!!

Thats the only word that can describe these teenagers and what they did to 50 year old Andrew Toseland.

I’d say that Brandon Fisher got off lightly with a sentence of only 27 months after an attack that left Andrew Toseland requiring 24-hour care for the rest of his life.

And there’s the nub. What kind of life will that be. He cannot walk. He can barely talk. In my mind these animals have left Andrew Toseland in a living hell.

Fisher got off lightly due to his reduce role in this vicious attack.

I trust that the judges come down hard on the leaders of the attack.

The News has published an article entitled “He’s very sorry” Referring to Fishers remorse over his role in the assault. Sorry is an over used word that has been significantly devalued. It is too easy to say sorry. It is harder and takes a stronger person to prevent the actions that make its use necessary.

‘He’s very sorry’ – family speaks out after attack – Local – Portsmouth News.

http://www.portsmouth.co.uk/news/local/teenager-jailed-for-assault-that-left-victim-in-coma-1-5450425

Where Are We ?

At around 09:30, on a very drizzly Saturday morning, I was waiting on Copnor Road, Portsmouth. Waiting to turn into the car park associated with the Tesco petrol station. In actual fact I was waiting for two under dressed lads to walk across the entrance. Having parked up and entered the store, grabbed two cartons of milk I headed to the cash desk. The two lads had obviously turned about and they now cut off my approach to the cash desk.

Both lads were clasping bottles of water and were looking decidedly the worse for wear and somewhat bedraggled, having no jackets or coats. The conversation went something like this…..

Lad: (With embarrassed laugh) …”Where are we ?”
Me: “Wow, you must have had a great night.”
Lad: “Seriously, where are we ?”
Me: “You’re in Copnor”
Cashier: (Speaking slowly and clearly enunciating as if for a foreign visitor) “This….is…..Copnor…. Road” as he gestured outside.
Lad: “We are from Portsmouth, we know that Copnor is near North End”
Me: “(Thinking that North End is their destination and indicating the nearby cross-roads) “If you turn right at the lights that road will take you to North End”
Lad: “We don’t want to go there”
Me: “So where are you trying to get to ?”
Lad: “We live in Southsea”

The cashier and I gave directions and the two lads set off, once again, on their journey home.

Some questions spring to mind.

Why did we pass up a golden opportunity to prank these guys ?
After all they had no idea where they were. We could have sent them north, out of the city. If we had they could still be walking.
How can you live in Portsmouth yet not know where you are ?
Portsmouth is an island of only 15 square miles. Approximately 4 miles in length (North to South) by around 3 miles wide.
Where was my invite to the party ?

Lets Take Our Cue From The Past

The News has recently published an interesting, if short, article reporting on days gone by. On the passing of the prison hulks that used to lie out in Portsmouth Harbour. Similar to HMS Victory these were ships that had seen better days. Ships such as HMS Briton, HMS Defense, HMS Leviathan, HMS Racoon and HMS Stirling Castle served as hulks until around 1850 when the practice of prison hulk usage stopped. Those prisoners being held on hulks in Portsmouth Harbour were moved to a prison within the walls of Portsmouth Dockyard.

It seems that prisoners held in the dockyard prison were once used for “public works”. The news mentions that when this practice ceased the prison was closed.

A prison was built within the dockyard walls in the north-eastern corner. By 1895 the convicts were no longer used for public works and in 1896 the prison, capable of holding 1,500 men, was closed for good.

It’s a shame that our governments haven’t seen fit to reinstate the practice of using prison inmates for carrying our public works as referenced here.

We, the tax payer, are already paying for their clothing, accommodation, entertainment, healthcare and three square meals a day. It seems only fair that prison inmates repay their debt to society by doing some work.

The namby pamby do-gooders in our society will say that they are being punished by having their liberty taken away. That may well be true. We keep hearing that prisoners don’t like their conditions, that some of them spend most of their time in a cell. Well here is a way to get them out and have them doing something for society. I’m not talking about hard labour, breaking up rocks or such like. We have a workforce locked up twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We should use them. Set them to work getting rid of graffiti, clearing out silted up canals, picking up rubbish on our beaches. How about all these potholes in our roads, created by the last severe winter and, more recently, flooding. The local councils say they are overwhelmed and don’t have the money.

Well here is the workforce, provide the tools and materials and set them to work.

End of the prison hulks – Remember When – Portsmouth News.

Tall Tales

On Wednesday we had a glorious sunny blue sky day, which was the ideal opportunity for a quick trip down Portsmouth, so that my grandson could get some pictures of the Spinnaker Tower at Gunwharf Quays. I of course took a camera but only my little Canon A570. The view is stupendous, unfortunately from a photographic standpoint having blue tinted glass is annoying. On this day the sun was shining directly into the front of the viewing levels so the glass was also flaring.

The following are a few snaps that I took both from outside and inside the Spinnaker.

Classic Confectionary, An Old Pub and New Beer

On Monday night my grandson and I were on a mission of mercy. A British ex-pat, with a sweet tooth, had asked for some specific “lolly’s” to be taken back to Oz. We had been searching for Revels, which I was very familiar with, and Maoams, which I had never heard of. All we knew was that they could be obtained from Tesco’s. However, once we were in the Tesco store all became clear. Maoams are a range of sweets made by Haribo. I had seen them on the shelves but they are not typically my sort of confectionary, hence my ignorance. A very helpful young lady soon directed us to the correct shelves and we very quickly emptied the boxes of Revels and Maoams and they will soon be heading through the air to Australia. Unless, that is, my grandson gets peckish. In which case he may consume them all on his way home.

After making our successful purchases we started to head back home but decided that we would drop in The George Inn on Portsdown Hill. We were only going to have a pint but that inevitably turned into two. The “George” is a pub which my wife and I used to frequent on a fairly regular basis but I had not been in for probably ten to fifteen years. The decor has changed, not unexpectedly, and it is a warm and inviting environment to drink in. I am a beer man so I noted that they were serving Old Speckled Hen, one of my favourites, and soon had a pint sitting in front of me. My grandson is a modern cider drinker who normally drinks Magners back home but had to settle for Thatcher’s. We later found out that he thought he was drinking Magners but had in fact misheard the barmaid. Never mind he liked it enough to go back for a second pint a short while later. Although I had enjoyed my “Hen” I had become intrigued by some of the other labels on sale, namely the pump directly in front of me which bore the tag for Havant Brewery’s “Herd”.

Firstly I wasn’t aware that Havant had a brewery. Secondly, seeing other customers ordering it, I noticed the dark colour and the “rusty” head. I asked the barmaid about it but she was new and didn’t know anything about the beer type. So I asked one of the customers who seemed happy to get his gums round a pint. His description of each mouthful being different wasn’t very helpful and he didn’t really know if it was truly a “stout” or perhaps a “porter”. So the only solution to this confusing state of affairs was for me to have a pint for myself. Well I very soon understood my fellow drinkers confusion. There are many things going on in a pint of “Havant Herd”. Coffee and Chocolate flavours, sweet with a bitter edge, but an overall rich and smooth texture. Suffice for me to say that it is very moreish and gets my recommendation.

The “George” has another unusual brew on their shelves. It bears the label Jeremiah Weed with two varieties “Root Brew” and “Sour Mash Brew”. These will obviously have to be investigated on a future date perhaps while trying out the George’s food menu.

Watch this space !!!

The Inn On The Beach

Today I had lunch at The Inn On The Beach , Hayling Island.

IOTB — The Inn On The Beach, Hayling Island

Along with my wife, grandson and a longtime friend over from Australia we spent an enjoyable few hours reminiscing and catching up.

The “Inn” provides good food in nice surroundings with a beautiful views across the Solent to the Isle Wight and along the coast from Portsmouth to the West to Selsey in the East. This a great venue regardless of the season.

When we arrived the weather was cold and quite breezy. By the time we had finished eating the wind had dropped and the clouds had rolled away. The sun was dropping rapidly and illuminating the shoreline beautifully.

The following view is to the west and in the distance you can see the Portsmouth skyline including the Spinnaker Tower, the floodlights at Fratton Park and it is just possible to make out St Marys church.

Beach_Huts — Hayling Beach Huts in the Autumnal Sunshine

This view is to the east and when viewed full size you can just see the Selsey shoreline merging with the horizon.

Hayling_Shore — Hayling Shore view towards Selsey

I believe that, when the conditions are right, the south coast and especially Hayling is as good as any mediterranean location.

My Prostate and Me – Part 1

Here I am in my 60th year. I have made it through most of my adult life without suffering anything worse than the common cold and the occasional bout of flu. A couple of years back I was diagnosed with hypertension and have been taking tablets ever since to keep things under control. All has been well until earlier this year when I was asked to provide a blood sample as part of the regular monitoring. This time my GP said he noted that I hadn’t been checked for prostate cancer so he added it to the list of things for the lab to check out. Part of their preventive maintenance plan I guess. He told me to call in a couple of weeks to find out the results. and me being me, I forgot all about it and did nothing.

Until ……

Some time later I decided to go and see the doctor about a couple of moles on my shoulder. During the exam I mentioned the blood test and asked about the prostate element. After he pulled up my notes and following some chin rubbing he said “Your PSA is up a bit, perhaps we should book you in for an examination”.

Don’t you think that someone might have said something when my blood test came in ?

After all “No news is good news ….. Right ?”

Did they check the other stuff pertaining to my blood pressure ?

So I was left to go and make an appointment. While I am at the reception desk he calls me back in to the examination room. “Since you are here we might as well do it now” he says. A few minutes later he’s got a rubber glove on and I’m laid down on the couch, facing the wall with my knees tucked up under my chin.

After what can only be described as a “strange and unusual experience” he informs me that his exam was inconclusive, that he really isn’t an expert and feels it would be better if I was examined by someone with more experience. Personally I would rather that he had chosen someone else to practice on.

A week or two later I am up at The QA (Queen Alexandra hospital, Portsmouth) and I’m laid down on a couch, facing a different wall, with my knees tucked up under my chin. This time it is the lovely bubbly Vanessa with the rubber glove. This time I’m told that because I am tall, my prostate is quite high up and perhaps this is why the GP couldn’t feel my prostate. There then ensues a discussion about the length of my GPs fingers, me saying I hadn’t noticed from my position at the time if he had pianists hands and comparisons with Elton Johns chubby pudds. Meanwhile back on the couch… Vanessa thinks that we, I, should have another blood test to compare with my earlier one and that, based on that comparison, a decision would be made as to the need for a biopsy.

An appointment date is set and I am left to arrange a visit to the vampires at my GPs practice. I manage to fit in a fortnights French holiday in between times, get the blood drawn and await the results.

On Thursday, July 26th, I have a short but bubbly telephone call with Vanessa who informs me that my PSA is once again elevated, that it is probably nothing, but why don’t we, meaning I, have a biopsy just to be sure. You can guess how enthusiastic I am about that. I haven’t been sitting idle, wasting my time. I’ve been on the interweb and found out how these biopsies are performed.

An appointment is made for Tuesday, July 31st. All too soon I am sitting in the Urology Dept waiting room and my name is called. They hadn’t warned me, but en-route to the torture chamber, they ask me to provide a urine sample. If I had known I would have made sure that I had plenty to drink. Needless to say I could not perform. Not a drop. “Stage Fright” says Vanessa.

Once again I find myself with my trollies down round my ankles, laid down on a couch, facing yet another wall, with my knees tucked up under my chin and my bum hanging over the edge. Now that’s an image to scare the kiddies don’t you think.

So the procedure gets underway, cold lubricating gel and the ultrasound wand is put where the sun doesn’t shine, anaesthetic is applied and the numerous biopsy samples are taken with the device clacking away with the sound of an industrial stapler. Job done, my bum is wiped and a man-sized pantyliner applied and I am packed off home, advised not to do anything strenuous. As if.

Thursday, August 30th, and I am once again at the QA. The Urology Dept. waiting room isn’t any more attractive. My name is called and introductions made. This time I am seeing Dr Dominic Hodgson. Where is the lovely Vanessa ? After the pleasantries I am sitting waiting for Dr Hodgson to give me the “All Clear”.

So it’s all a bit surreal when he tells me that the biopsy has shown that I do in fact have Prostate Cancer.