PROSTATES

A cheery topic; however all guys of a certain age could do worse than focus on the topic, if only for a moment. My brother Alan in Durban tells me he has recently undergone the 'indignity' of a prostate examination and that his PSA is well within the not-to-worry category. I well recall my first introduction to the procedure known to the medics as a 'digital' examination. In my innocence I thought this was some state of the art procedure not disimilar to digital radio, digital TV or other communications systems. It was only when I lay sideways on the GP's couch with my knees tucked up in the foetal position, that it dawned on me that the digit concerned had nothing to do with electronic technology. The sound of a rubber glove being snapped onto the GP's fingers confirmed my suspicions and when he added that this won't hurt a bit I knew just what the digit was and precisely where it was going.

Apparently he looks for signs of enlargement of the prostate and whether the surface is rough or smooth which can indicate the presence of extraneous growth (cancer to you and me).
If you do find, as a staggering one in three of us do, that you have cancerous tissue in the prostate you will probably be given a brief course of CASADEX for about 2 weeks, then an abdominal injection of ZOLADEX which provides a slow-release drug over 3 months. Both of the drugs have the function of carrying out a chemical castration. The clue is in the first syllable of the first course. I had an off the scale PSA of 961 which dropped back to 1.9 within a short time of starting the course.
Fellow sufferers should be warned that the effectiveness is finite and new combinations of treatment or chemotheraphy are required. My PSA started to rise again after two years, so I now take both Zoladex and Casadex. Result is that I often feel like shit - chest pain, lethargy, remarkable drop in energy and a general listlessness. I now take the Casadex last thing at night so its worst effects hit me while I'm sleeping. I take a painkiller in the morning and the rest of the days are much better.
Any other poor whore similarly afflicted may like to ask me the odd question. Feel free. But it is only one man's experience

SPORT & A BIT ON HEALTH

To beat England on Irish soil is always a joy but with two added ingredients - a victory at Croke Park plus a very convincing one, make the moment all that sweeter. It may not be universally known that Croke Park was the venue of the original 1920 Bloody Sunday. The act was so heinous that many find it hard to believe, but - as an act of ´reprisal´ against Nationalist action- the Brits aka the Black and Tans actually set up a machine gun post in the centre of Croke Park and fired indiscriminately at the crowd. Even Amritsar was not as calculatedly brutal. From then on Croke Park became the shrine of Nationalism and the GAA banned the playing of any English games on its turf. So to entertain the mighty English for the first time on such hallowed ground was an event to send most Celtic hearts racing. As a footnote it was heartening to learn of the dignity with which the boys conducted themselves. Sad the English could only muster such a small group of supporters. English supporters are invariably loud and superior when in the watering holes of the Twickers hinterland but they go kinda quiet in the Celtic fringes.

Rugby joy somewhat negated by the depressing reports that Ronan O´Gara was badly knocked out by the Scots to the point where some papers say the action was ´tantamount to attempted murder´. Not the sort of report we want to hear from the rugby pitch especially in an Ireland/Scotland match. The full facts have not been established but the incident leaves a nasty taste. The Triple Crown, alas, is a wee bit tarnished.

I´ve been a bit critical of the Spanish NHS but it is, quite simply, only different. I have had a quite lengthy meeting with a Specialist urologist. He organised blood samples for my urea, creatinine and PSA (the prostate cancer indicator). I now receive word that I have a fixed appointment at the Don Benito/Villanueva Hospital for a TAC Scan (UK - CT Scan) - so clearly he wants his own records of my health, his own scans and his own files.
I had actually photocopied about 50 sheets of my medical records (all in English) to allow the poor bugger to familiarise himself with my case. Fortunately, he tells me his wife is a Professor of English. Still very time consuming, though.
13 Mar and 13th consecutive day of unbroken sunshine. We didn´t have 2 in a row in Feb.

SCOTLAND WITH SUNSHINE ?

Not really. Feb was a whore of a month - rain just about every day with the associated misery of dark skies, damp air and general cold. The native Extremadurans tell us that the weather is quite exceptional. Must be true as we had Xmas on our terrace in shorts.
March has broken gloriously. Big, big skies above the sierras, vast blue expanses and Guadiana sparkling below the house. Great squadrons of Buitres Leanados (type of buzzard) launch themselves off the montanas and catch the thermals of the newly warmed earth. Their flight is a vision of cool arrogance with hardly a minimal flap of a wing. They cruise over the top of our casa, which for a cancer patient has a certain black humour. I sometimes greet them with "I´m still here, ya bastards".
Still virtually Brit free. Though we have come across a Brit working for a Co. we had to contact.
He has to be the least well-informed man in the Province. He has no Spanish whatever - talks in cliches, refers to native people as ´they´ - all in all he has the greatest English failing of all in Shedloads - he could bore the arse off a stamp collector from Penge.