A photo I took when walking into the hospital on my first day of treatment . I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in April 2008, more than 11 years ago. After a radical prostatectomy and a lengthy period of radiotherapy we found that the cancer hadn't gone and that I had stage 4 of a particularly virulent variety of the disease. A radical change of diet, a renewed commitment to meditation and some excellent medical advice meant that I beat the odds, and instead of the expected short sharp decline I have, since then, lived the best 11 years of my life. But I knew the cancer hadn't gone away. We were using some pretty effective tools to keep it at bay but down there somewhere the disease was lurking and waiting. Last year it seems that the cunning little bastard had found a way around my best defences and, although still small, it was going for gold, making an impressive near vertical acceleration on the chart which measures its presence. On the advice of the medics I