Saturday, April 29, 2006
What does a patient want to know?
We are all different. Some of us want to know the detail, every little bit of it, while others just want to know what the result will be. When it comes to health, my wife Gwen like many women wants to have a proper understanding of everything that is going on. Personally, I just want a general overview. The less I know the better I feel.
At the time of my second biopsy a few years ago, my then specialist made it clear that he felt I needed to know all the ins and outs of things because he felt it was fairly likely that I did have prostate cancer. I went on the internet and downloaded heaps of information; well-meaning friends passed on articles and Gwen looked out and put in front of me the things she thought I should know about. The whole thing frightened the living shit out of me!
It reminds me of buying a car. Some people, particularly blokes, love cars. To me they are a means of comfortable transport from Point A to Point B. All I'm concerned about is that the control panel is not as complicated as the cockpit of a 747 aircraft; there is a suitable side compartment for my street directory and somewhere to store my CDs. Yet the car salespeople insist on showing me under the bonnet. I believe there is an engine under there. That much, I'm willing to trust them on. And if I turn on the motor and do a test drive I can tell if it's working. Why on earth do I need to see under the bonnet? I don't need to know that much!
At the time of my second biopsy a few years ago, my then specialist made it clear that he felt I needed to know all the ins and outs of things because he felt it was fairly likely that I did have prostate cancer. I went on the internet and downloaded heaps of information; well-meaning friends passed on articles and Gwen looked out and put in front of me the things she thought I should know about. The whole thing frightened the living shit out of me!
It reminds me of buying a car. Some people, particularly blokes, love cars. To me they are a means of comfortable transport from Point A to Point B. All I'm concerned about is that the control panel is not as complicated as the cockpit of a 747 aircraft; there is a suitable side compartment for my street directory and somewhere to store my CDs. Yet the car salespeople insist on showing me under the bonnet. I believe there is an engine under there. That much, I'm willing to trust them on. And if I turn on the motor and do a test drive I can tell if it's working. Why on earth do I need to see under the bonnet? I don't need to know that much!
Friday, April 21, 2006
Totally Prostate
Friday 21 April was the day I got the news. My wife Gwen was with me when I went to see my new specialist, Mr P, to get the results of a biopsy I'd had 10 days earlier.
This had been my third biopsy in six years. So, while I was anxious, I certainly wasn't in the state that I been the last time round three years before. I'd covered most of the angles, been through the fears, and was better prepared to accept the results.
For some time now my blood test results, low in reliability as these appear to be, continued to be worrisome. More recently they had got a lot worse. Add to that the fact that the lump that I had in my prostate was concerning both my doctor and my specialist and it seemed more than likely that this time round they would find some cancerous cells. Still, I thought I was pretty well prepared.
What I wasn't prepared for was the extent of the cancer that they did find. This time round, I had 12 samples taken, whereas my previous specialist on two occasions had taken six samples each time. Mr P was clearly of the view that this wasn't an extensive enough sample and told me that the 12-part test would give 95% accuracy.
Six of the 12 samples showed up as cancerous, with four of these showing fairly long tumours.
Up until now my chief concern had been to ensure that I didn't end up as impotent because of any treatment to remove the cancerous tumours from my prostate. Suddenly, that wasn't such a big deal. Now all my questions and concerns for the specialist were about whether or not the cancer could be contained within the prostate. Whether or not it had perhaps already extended beyond the prostate loomed large as my greatest fear.
We left the specialist and headed for my favourite coffee shop in Leederville, Cafe Villa. I wondered what conversations were going on at the tables round about us. It looked to me like they were mostly informal business meetings, the ones I would normally visit Cafe Villa for. This time my one was different.
This had been my third biopsy in six years. So, while I was anxious, I certainly wasn't in the state that I been the last time round three years before. I'd covered most of the angles, been through the fears, and was better prepared to accept the results.
For some time now my blood test results, low in reliability as these appear to be, continued to be worrisome. More recently they had got a lot worse. Add to that the fact that the lump that I had in my prostate was concerning both my doctor and my specialist and it seemed more than likely that this time round they would find some cancerous cells. Still, I thought I was pretty well prepared.
What I wasn't prepared for was the extent of the cancer that they did find. This time round, I had 12 samples taken, whereas my previous specialist on two occasions had taken six samples each time. Mr P was clearly of the view that this wasn't an extensive enough sample and told me that the 12-part test would give 95% accuracy.
Six of the 12 samples showed up as cancerous, with four of these showing fairly long tumours.
Up until now my chief concern had been to ensure that I didn't end up as impotent because of any treatment to remove the cancerous tumours from my prostate. Suddenly, that wasn't such a big deal. Now all my questions and concerns for the specialist were about whether or not the cancer could be contained within the prostate. Whether or not it had perhaps already extended beyond the prostate loomed large as my greatest fear.
We left the specialist and headed for my favourite coffee shop in Leederville, Cafe Villa. I wondered what conversations were going on at the tables round about us. It looked to me like they were mostly informal business meetings, the ones I would normally visit Cafe Villa for. This time my one was different.
