Erectile Disfunction

If ever there was a headline grabber, that is it (discounting Katie Price, Big Brother and the Beckhams). Do you know any man with this problem? I don't yet is it very common in men over 40 (and under) it seems. I suppose it is a brave man who will admit to anyone other than his partner (who might possibly have already guessed) that they "can't get it up".

Regular readers will have been probably both bored or interested in equal measure with my tweets and blog on the prostate cancer. As far as men are concerned, the big long term problem post op is E.D. The operation removes a precious part of the equipment that all men take for granted and it can depend on the skill of the surgeon whether full function is restored. Having said that, full function will never be restored as the organ  that produced seminal fluid is in a dustbin somewhere, gathering dust (for many men, just as it was before it was removed :)). Depending on the spread of the cancer, the nerves that supply the blood to enable erection can be spared or removed. In my case, as I delayed the operation by eighteen months, it spread into the nerves on one side,so they had to go.

Depending on the health authority you are under, drugs are administered six weeks after the operation to speed up the healing process and increase blood supply to the affected areas. Sad to say, many men have a battle to have these drugs prescribed, not a problem fortunately with my local health authority.

I must admit I was quite intrigued when I read the leaflet (or rather Janet did) to see what the effects and possible side effects are. One in particular reads "In the event of an erection lasting for more than four hours, you are advised to visit your local A & E department for treatment". I advised Janet that in the event of a four hour erection, I would be making my way down to the local girls sixth form college.

I am not embarrassed to be writing about this problem. I had no choice other than to have an operation and the possible ramifications afterwards. In some cases function never returns. That is a bleak prospect. O.K. at almost sixty, your best years are behind you but I liken the problem to having skis. I have a set of carvers which were expensive at the time, but, usually spend 51 weeks of the year in a cupboard. In the event of snow however, I at least have the option of using them. It's the same with sex. It may not happen very often, but if the opportunity arises (pardon the pun) I like to have the option.

It is early days for me. The average recovery times seems to be 12 to 18 months which seems a long way away right now. As a natural flirt I cannot pretend I don't miss the usual feelings but, at the moment, the relief at no longer having cancer outweighs everything else. One poster on a forum I visit has written that his wife has been completely unable to come to terms (again no pun intended) with his impotency and his marriage is struggling. If that is the case, his marriage couldn't have been as strong as he thought it was before his diagnosis.

You will be relieved to know (as will my wife) that I will not be posting regular updates on my progress. Some things are best kept behind closed doors. However, the more astute amongst you may one day notice a change in my posting style. Hopefully it will be sooner than later.

Ghosties and Ghoulies

I don't believe in ghosts.  I am not saying there is no such thing as a ghost as it would go against my motto of trying to keep an open mind on things. I have never seen a ghost is probably a better statement. My Granddad used to tell us a story of a Mill in Belfast before the first world war that was haunted by the spirit of a boy who was killed when he was putting fuel on to the boiler. My Granddad was night watchman for a time and he swore that every night you could hear coal being shovelled into a barrow and then hear the barrow creaking across the floor to the boiler. He never saw anything, just heard it, night after night. The owner of the mill wouldn't enter it in the early hours but he often called to my Granddad from the top of the street to make sure he was o.k.

At 4.50am today I was awoken by the sound of our bedroom door handle being pushed down. It makes a very distinctive creaking noise. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I froze waiting for the door to open. It didn't but I then heard the handle creak back. I was wide awake by then. For the next 30 minutes I lay silent and still, ready to dive for the Samurai sword I keep next to the cricket bat, at the side of the bed. Mrs. Bats and I often play cricket in the early hours.

There was no further sound and I eventually relaxed and went back to sleep. This morning Mrs Bats was convinced I had dreamt it but I know I didn't. For anyone to have broken in they would have to have crept over two huge German Shepherd dogs and negotiated a creaking open staircase to get to us. That is impossible.

I will be alert tonight. If it is a ghost, I doubt the sword will be much use but I'll take a glass of water to bed with me and offer it a drink if it plucks up the courage to enter the room. If I do not tweet tomorrow, you know what happened.

Differences of opinion

This week on Twitter has been interesting. I am sure we all agree that everyone is entitled to an opinion, whether you or I agree with it or not. I would go as far as to say no-one would deny anyone the right to have an opinion if asked directly.

Despite this obvious conclusion, you only have to read today's postings to see that this is not the case. I have read dozens of posts telling me what I should think of the execution in the U.S. Not only have have I been told what to think, I have also been told what I can with myself (not particularly pleasant) if I do not agree. None of the posts are directed at me of course. They are meant for anyone who has a contrary opinion. That is not allowing me an opinion. It is telling me to conform with the views of the particular individual. For this reason (I am not saying whether I agree or not) I tend not to take part in anything that could be considered controversial. I think it is fair to say that the vast majority of people I follow have political leanings to the left. I tend to lean to the right but this does not mean that I am a raging Nazi racist any more than being on the left means you are a comrade communist.

It has been very interesting reading views on the Dale Farm saga. I would wager that the majority of people who have strong views on this have never had to face up to the problems that the travelling community can, and often do, cause. I have. I totally agree that suitable areas should be made available (at a charge the same as every other citizen is expected to pay) but simply buying land and bulldozing your way through planning laws is not an option. Try buuilding an extension to your house without permission and see what happens.

I actually have had years of dealing with the travelling community through various businesses I have owned. It is always a problem. We have had problems at the Mill here in the last few weeks with travellers setting up camp illegally then demanding money to move on. This is not hearsay, it is reality. There are some very likeable characters amongst them and I have had many laughs over the years. I have also lost serious money through theft and other scams. This is not to say that there are no miscreants in other ethnic groups, including the indigenous ones, it's just that the travellers tend to come at you in numbers and it can be very intimidating if you allow it to be. To pretend that, as a whole, travellers are a merry band of fiddle players spreading good will and cheer is as silly as pretending they are all villains.

In conclusion. We all have opinions. We can agree or disagree with others without the need to resort to insults and banal comments about racism, ageism and all the other isms associated with it. I shall await the unfollows over the next few days.

Fifteen years ago my co Director and I decided to have a medical. He had been suffering from chest pains and I was fine but thought “if he's having one I may as well too”. I got a clean bill of health. Maybe I ought to lose half a stone or so but my cholesterol was low and all other functions were fine.

I mentioned to my doctor that I had noticed that my flow when I went for a pee had slowed quite a bit, enough for me to notice. He told me it was noting to worry about and wasn't unusual for a man of my age. I was 45years old.

Five years later I was under the knife. It came to head when I was having a pee in the toilets at my local pub. I was standing admiring the plaster work as I normally did when the door opened and an old man stumbled in with a zimmer walking frame. He stood next to me. We exchanged pleasantries. He saw to his todger had a pee, washed his hands and left. I was still standing peeing. I couldn't ignore it any longer.

My urologist told me I had thickening of the bladder neck and a section was cut out. It did the trick and I could pee right up against any wall of my choice. No mention was made of prostate problems or cancer and no tests were undertaken or checks made.

Move forward nine years and I am back at the same hospital with the same problem. I see the same urologist and he diagnoses thickening scar tissue as the problem. He sticks his finger up my bum and fiddles with my prostate. “No problem there” he tells me. “It is slightly swollen but it is nothing to worry about. The surface is smooth with no signs of any rough tissue”

He decides on a blood test where a psa reading can be taken. This test is far from accurate but can give a guide to potential problems as the psa level is normally raised in cases of prostate cancer. My level came back at 4.5, not particularly high as levels can be in the thousands, but high enough to warrant a biopsy.

I will not go into details of the biopsy procedure as it could put some men off. It is unpleasant but necessary. One week before Christmas 2009 I receive a call from the hospital. I am asked to come in at 8.15am the following day. She cannot tell me why but I realise it's not to tell me I have won the lottery. I am told the next day I have prostate cancer. He tells me I have 11% on side but the other is clear. He tells me it is absolutely nothing to worry about. It is low grade cancer. I could have had it years. I am much more likely to die with it than from it. I have three choices. Active surveillance, (do nothing and test again some time in the future) brachiotherapy or surgery. It is a no brainer. After all it is low grade, I could have had it years and I will probably die with it not from it.

Jump forward fifteen months to March this year. Another biopsy. I am prepared this time and my wonderful G.P. Prescribes me some happy pills. It still wasn't fun but I didn't care as much. The nurse pricks her own finger with the last sample causing mini chaos. I am back at the urologists three weeks later. I see his registrar, as he is too busy. I now have 23% on one side and the previous clear side has 14%. Nothing to worry about I am assured again. All three options are still open. I am referred to oncology in Bradford for consultation.

Brachiotherapy ( a more intense style of radiotherapy) is immediately ruled out as my consultant says I have a stricture and it would be possibly dangerous. Active surveillance is laughed at. My cancer has increased and the type changed to a more aggressive type. Surgery is the only sensible option. There are two types, conventional and robotic (Da Vinci). I am referred to St.James' in Leeds as that is the Davinci centre for my area.

Two weeks later I am with my new consultant. He has analysed all the results with his own team. Four out of five samples on one side of my prostate are cancerous and one out of five on the other. This means I have 80% cancer on one and 20% on the other, a slightly different diagnosis from two weeks earlier. I have two options, surgery or early death. I chose surgery as I had just bought new shoes and wanted at least some wear out of them.

Three months later I am recovering well. My point in writing this is, no matter how young you are, if you notice anything change about your normal toilet habits, go to your G.P. If you are not happy with what you are told, ask for a referral. If cancer is diagnosed at any stage, don't automatically go for the first option you think of and make sure you grill your consultant for the options. Had I opted for surgery first time around, I would have had spared both sets of nerves which support sexual function, not just one. It was too risky with my second diagnosis to leave both intact.

We are reminded, quite rightly, in the media about breast cancer in women and screenings

are available, at some considerable cost, for all women over 50. The cost to give a man a psa test is 75 pence. Ten thousand men die every year from prostate cancer and it is increasing, as well as affecting, younger men. It is no longer a disease of the old. Don't bugger about. Get tested.

p.s.

People. If you have a friend or relative diagnosed with cancer DON'T immediately tell them about someone you know who had this or that and this or that happened. We don't want to know!

Age and the internet

If I tried to engage a young woman in conversation in real world I would almost certainly be viewed with serious suspicion. What on earth could a man of my age have in common with a woman in her twenties or even worse, in her late teens? The reality is, very little, on a normal face to face basis. At best I would be humoured until she could beat a hasty retreat, at worst there could be mace spray and a swift kick in the goolies.

This is where the internet turns reality on its head. When I look through the list of my 400 or so followers (and followed) it embraces all ages and sex. The beauty of the internet is that you form an opinion of a person without the distraction of personal prejudice and physical appearance. In most cases I haven't known at first whether a poster is male or female, never mind young, or ancient like me. There are actually a handful still where I don't know anything about them including sex as the name or avatar gives no clues.

This virtual anonymity is very liberating. It allows you to make friends with a whole raft of people that could never happen in reality. I say "friends" but that description doesn't adequately reflect the on line relationships. You are not really friends with anyone until it is removed from the virtual world and brought into reality. I have had "friends" on forums, some I have met up with but none which have lasted. On line friendships are transient and should be viewed as such. I am not saying that good long term relationships cannot happen from initial on line contact, just that they are less likely.

Once I have realised that a follower is young, I do take care what I write directly to them. I may well be a dirty old man but I prefer to keep it as quiet as possible.

A Great Night Out

It's Sunday morning and for many people it will be a day recovering from the excesses of Saturday night. As I watched the T.V. it occurred to me how much life changes as you get older and, more importantly, how much your tastes change.

Some years ago we were having dinner with a couple and John was telling us stories of his life as an athlete. He was a top quality five and ten thousand metres runner having run in the European and Commonwealth games only to just miss out on the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. I asked him if he missed those days and, if he had a wish, would he go back to then and re-live what was an exciting time and lifestyle. His answer both impressed and surprised me and is one I have tried to live by over thirty years after.

In his late teens life was fantastic. He was lauded for his prowess and looked up to by friends and fans alike. Everything was new, to be experienced and enjoyed.

His twenties saw a step up. He continued to tour the world but met his future wife and, late on his first son was born. He loved it.

His thirties took life to a whole new level. He had retired from athletics as he could no longer compete with the new younger breed emerging. He realised the stresses and pressures he had put his body under to remain competitive had begun to take their toll and he needed a change of direction. He secured a well paid job which he enjoyed and two further children completed his family. He regarded his life as just about perfect.

When we lost touch, he was in his mid forties. He had developed arthritis, a legacy of his running days, but overcame it to such an extent that he played squash with me. His kids were older and they no longer needed baby sitters. His wife had gone back to work and he had progressed to a senior position with a bank and the money flowed in. They could, more or less, do exactly what they wanted to do when they wanted to do it and I am sure that in the intervening years, since we lost touch, the same pattern has been followed as that was his philosophy. He enjoyed his past, wouldn't change any of it, but wouldn't want to relive it either.

I have tried to follow the same life plan. I try to make the best of what I have, not what I had. I have regrets, we all have them and there are things I would love to change. I cannot, so there is no point in dwelling on them. I hope I can learn from my mistakes and move forward.

What has this to do with a good night out? I had a great night last night. For once in a blue moon, I cooked. We shared a bottle of wine. We watched Strictly Come Dancing and something else we had recorded and we then went to bed. if you are reading this and thinking "Jesus, I'll kill myself if I ever get that dull", console your self with this. If, you are very very lucky, you will learn to appreciate what you have and make the most of it. If you don't, life will be one long disappointment. Age has big compensations.