Still Waiting

I had a chat with the surgeon today. It wasn't the all clear I was hoping for, but it's not necessarily bad news either. There is a protein they measure, called a Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA), an elevated level of which is an indicator of cancer. Now I've been dealt to, my level should be zero or pretty close to it, but apparently it's not. It might mean nothing. It might mean some residual PSA left from before the operation or it might be more sinister. The surgeon advised against rushing into any treatment right now. I'll have more blood taken over the next couple of months, he'll see me again in November and we'll make the call then.

I felt a bit flat coming out of his office and went for a walk on the beach to think about things. It was a beautiful day and St. Clair was dotted with people walking dogs. I took some photos and admired the view. I remembered that I'm now at a stage where this thing isn't going to kill me. At worst, my life could get a little restricted. I guess I was sombre because I had, secretly, been hoping to return to the comfortable assumption of bodily immortality which I had enjoyed all my life until the end of this April past, and now I had to face reality: I am fallible and fragile and limited. Get used to it. I strolled until our parish secretary phoned and reminded me that I actually needed to be somewhere else. I forsook my planned coffee and took a picture of the cafe instead. Then I turned and walked purposefully back to meaningful activity.


Tillerman said…
Kelvin, very sorry that it wasn't exactly the news you wanted. I shall keep you in my prayers.

Having said that let me like a good human being return completely to my own immediate needs. If you think that any sort of slacking on this blogspot will result from this you are mistaken.
This is the best extamural education I have had in years; your wit, intelligence, insight and erudition is second to none and the photographs are outlandishly beautiful and shot through with Fibonacci numbers ( I mean we're talking the real Fibo here) - I'm sorry but thoughts of slacking just won't do old chap.
Now get with it - how the hell else am I expected to develop new nueral pathways in my brain - there's few enough of the bloody things as it is.
VenDr said…
Not bad, Tillerman, but you diverted from the script I sent you. My draft said...wit, intelligence, insight, erudition, compassion and humility... I wonder if you would work those last two into a future comment, but do it subtly so no-one will notice the insertion. Thanks. The cheque is in the mail
daniel said…
No, no, you got that all wrong. It's wit, intelligence, insight, erudition, compassion, humility and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope!
VenDr said…
So, my lad.... we'll see if you are so chipper after a morning in the.... Comfy chair!
Tillerman said…
Armed with the knowledge that I have trouble with non phonetic words you use that old smokescreen of using that subtle word 'subtly', but the diversion won't wash, just as your diversion of sending me an IOU rather than a cheque didn't fool me either. I checked it out, the boomerang shape of the piece of paper and your nom de plume 'Mr Sub Prime' are ok but I've caught you out for once (what possessed you to think I would fall for this ruse) - you see I KNOW what IOU stands for! - A cheque is on its way to you as I write - Don't mess with me buddy, the neural pathways are really sparking at the momento.