I have just returned from receiving my seventh jab of Zoladex. This is the mainstay of my hormone therapy treatment (which doesn’t seems to be working!) and is given to me as a three monthly injection as a pellet under the skin.
I thought I’d have a bit of fun looking up the significance of the number seven and it turns out that there are several interesting things about this particular digit.
First of all it is a prime number. It is also the number of sides on a British 20p and 50p coins ( a particularly useless piece of information). The number seven commonly appears in fiction as in John Sturges’s 1960 western ‘The Magnificent Seven’ and in the seven dwarves of Snow White.
Then of course there are the Seven Wonders of the World and Shakespeare’s Seven Ages of Man.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the number seven was identified by the cognitive psychologist George A. Miller in a paper entitled “The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two: Some Limits on Our Capacity for Processing Information” (1956) in which he claimed that people were only able to efficiently process up to seven items in short term memory. For example, most people can remember a telephone number with seven digits but struggle to remember an eight, nine or ten digit number. This aspect of human psychology is frequently referred to as Miller’s Law.
Seven also appears commonly in religious literature. For example in the Book of Revelation the number seven appears several times;
seven churches, seven Spirits, seven stars, seven seals, seven trumpets, seven vials, seven personages, seven dooms, and seven new things. (phew!!). In total the number seven appears over fifty times in Revelations.
Then of course there is being in seventh heaven, a reference to the fact that several religions have speculated that there are seven heavenly realms with the seventh being the highest.
I can’t claim to be in seventh heaven at the moment at regarding my treatment or prognosis. I still have my bone scan to go on Monday and then I’ll enter that awful waiting period before getting the results.
Several weeks ago I bought a canal narrowboat from a boatyard in Leighton Buzzard. I had been contemplating buying a boat ever since I had to say goodbye to my 18ft day cruising yacht called Melody some years ago (there lies a sad and sorry tale – for another day). I had been agonising about whether to buy another small sailing boat or a narrowboat and finally decided that a narrowboat would be my best option.
Having bought the boat I am certain that I have made the right decision. Although I will miss all the joys of sailing at least I have a boat that I can use all year round in relative ease and comfort.
The name of my new acquisition is Lily Ann and she was built by a company called Colecraft back in 1978. That makes her a very elderly craft – an old lady of the canals. Colecraft is a well known narrowboat builder and the design of the boat was known as a Fenny Marine design with a distinctive canoe shaped bow that is quite unique. She is a small narrowboat at only 31 feet but that was part of her attraction for me. Many narrowboats are between 50 and 70 feet and although they offer more creature comforts they lack the charm and character of a small boat I often think. There are practical considerations too. Lily Anne is cheaper to maintain and run with low mooring fees and British Waterways licence fees, both based on boat length.
I had seen Lily Ann advertised on a website and something about her shape and lines attracted me. After a brief visit on my own, followed by a joint visit with Sue my wife, the deal was sealed and money exchanged hands. However, due to her age she required some extra work by the boatyard and so it wasn’t until some weeks after her purchase that I finally took possession of her, having agreed a mooring position at Cosgrove Marina on the canal just north of Milton Keynes.
While she was being worked on by the boatyard we still managed to take her out on a couple of cruises up and down the canal, on one occasion with my son and his girlfriend, on another with Kevin a dear friend of mine and also on a trip down to a boatyard in Pitstone with Sue and another friend, Laraine.
Finally on Monday 22nd August Sue and I picked Lily up from the boatyard and took her to the mooring at Cosgrove, the journey taking us a couple of days along a surprisingly pretty part of the canal. In fact we had hired a narrowboat many years ago quite close to Cosgrove and was familiar with that part of the canal. Having arrived at Cosgrove we spent the next couple of days painting most of the interior with bright almond white paint which made her look fresh and more spacious. After some discussion we agreed with the boatyard for the gas central heating on the boat to be removed and a simple stove put in its place, and so have been able to enjoy the pleasure of having a glowing fire to warm the boat.
Some information hand written by a previous owner claimed that Lily Ann was owned by the director of Colecraft and named after his wife. Although I can never know whether that is true, it is certainly nice to think that it might be.
Since she has settled in her home mooring at Cosgrove I have replaced the bed boards so that we can access the storage space under the bed and have removed the old shower unit from the bathroom. Lily layout is very simple with a front kitchen/lounge area at the front of the boat, and a double bed area at the rear with a tint bathroom in-between. There is a small space at the bow to sit and watch the world go by and a large open stern.
There is still much work to be undertaken and it will take some time to complete all the work that I have in mind. But that is part of the pleasure of owning a boat – tinkering around on them.
Have returned home this evening from my CT(computerised tomography) scan at the hospital.
This must be my third (or fourth?) scan but I was surprised to feel quite anxious about the injection of the ‘line’ that they use to feed the contrast solution into me during the scan. In the end the nurse ended up putting the ‘line’ into my hand which I hate, partly because it hurts more than into the arm and also because it hurts when they start to inject the fluid. Although I’ve grown much more sanguine about injections I still don’t rate them as one of my favourite experiences.
You would think that having so many injections means that I have got used to them by now but it doesn’t always work that way. I remember in my early twenties going for a parachute jump for charity (can’t remember which!) from the airfield in Headcorn, Kent. I was, of course nervous for the first jump but managed to fit in another jump just before sunset and surprised myself by becoming much more anxious the second time round. I can remember my relief when the chute opened and I floated gently down as the sky slowly took on the ruddy glow of a beautiful sunset. Sometimes, if we don’t know what to expect we can tackle new situations with aplomb, where more experience may tend to make us wary.
This scan was ordered following the last clinical meeting where I was told my PSA score is still rising. The consultant suggested that we should see ‘what’s going on inside’ and talked about clinical trials. To be honest I think my options are becoming quite limited. The hormone therapy is clearly failing or at the very least losing its effectiveness and the cancer continues to grow.
On Thursday I have me next injection of Zoladex and on Monday I’ve got a full body bone scan. All in all it’s a rather tedious start to the month!
The Prostate Cancer Charity is organising a bike ride in September to raise awareness of prostate cancer. The event is called Tour Ride 2010 and there’s an excellent website about it with lots of information at www.tourride.co.uk. There are a range of organised rides available in the South West, Stoke-on-Trent and London and they range in difficulty from ‘family’ rides to ‘pro’ rides.
These ‘rides’ are designed to take place alongside the Tour of Britain which runs from 11th September to 18th September, finishing in London.
Comedian David Schneider, the comedian who brought us the BBC1 comedy programme ‘I’m Alan Partridge’ is taking part and hoping to raise £2,000 for the charity. You can sponsor David at his fundraising page (here), where he says:
This year I am taking part in The Prostate Cancer Charity’s Tour Ride to help provide men affected by prostate cancer with the best support possible. Daley Thompson is also riding and I’m determined to beat him even if I have to use Wacky Races cheating techniques. So sponsoring me will both help the fight against prostate cancer and help the little guy triumph over the big guy by cheating.
He has also made a small spoof video for The Prostate Cancer Charity, to promote interest in the race:
You can read more about David and his bike challenge at www.sport.co.uk.
You’ve gotta laugh haven’t you,
When the results come back,
And its bad news again,
When they order more scans,
And endless tests,
You’ve gotta laugh.
You’ve gotta laugh haven’t you,
When they prod and poke you,
And take your blood,
So you feel like a lump of meat,
Or a specimen in a petri dish,
You’ve gotta laugh.
You’ve gotta laugh haven’t you,
When you take your pills,
Faithfully day in and day out,
And swallow the hope that they seem to offer,
Even though they don’t seem to work,
You’ve gotta laugh.
You’ve gotta laugh haven’t you,
When the hot flushes take you,
And your blood pressure rises,
When you feel so achy and tired,
That wonder if its worth going on,
You’ve gotta laugh.
You’ve gotta laugh haven’t you,
When you read the letters your consultant writes,
And there in cold medical words,
And heartless dissected detail,
You see the signature of your death,
You’ve gotta laugh.
You’ve gotta laugh haven’t you,
When you hear the sound of the ticking clock,
As your life drifts softly away,
And you’re left to think,
Of all that might have been different,
You’ve gotta laugh.
I’ve been asked a couple of times, mainly by the medical practitioners that I’ve encountered, whether my father had prostate cancer. I’ve always answered honestly that I don’t know, neither does anyone in my family.
Dad died 18 years ago (17th December 1992) at the age of 63 from a heart attack brought on by years of heavy smoking – an unwanted legacy from national service. It is of course possible that he did have prostate cancer as the disease is largely asymptomatic. However I don’t ever remember dad having problems with his waterworks.
The reason I’ve been asked about the possibility of prostate cancer in my father is because it runs in the family and having a male family member with the disease is a risk factor.
Or is it? A recent study from Sweden suggests that in fact this is probably not so (article here). The researchers did indeed find that men who had a family member with the disease were more diagnosed with prostate cancer but claim that this can be accounted for by increased awareness and the likelyhood that family members with a knowledge of the disease are more inclined to seek out tests for the cancer. In particular they claim that family members were most often diagnosed with prostate cancer within a month of a positive diagnosis of another family member, suggesting very strongly that the increased diagnosis within families is more likely associated with enhanced awareness than prevalence.
The reality is that prostate cancer is hopelessly undiagnosed because most men, and certainly those that have had no direct contact with a close male relative or friend with the disease, are reluctant to seek testing. In fact I think that most people tend not to be pro-active in getting themselves tested for cancer – after all its not the kind of news you want to get. This is where national screening programmes are so important because they provide the opportunity and impetus for people to be tested when otherwise they probably wouldn’t bother.
I’ll never know whether dad had prostate cancer but I think the hard truth is that incidences of prostate cancer are most likely spread across the male population entirely at random.
A good friend of mine, Stan Goldberg (author of ‘Lessons for the Living’) sent me a link to an article he wrote called ‘What Makes You Think You’ll Live Forever?’
In the article he talks about his experience of taking part in a Buddhist workshop with the Venerable Buddhist monk, Ribur Rinpoche. Stan lists some of the Buddhist wisdom regarding death that the monk bestowed:
“Death is certain, but not the time.”
“Everything changes.”
“Nothing begins or ends; it goes from one thing into another.”
“You cannot turn away death,”
“Death is hard to accept,”
“Death is a part of living. No death, no life. If you understand this, you won’t fear it. Death will be as natural as drinking a cup of tea.”
Stan relates how he busily wrote these pearls of wisdom down in a notebook as but that this drew scornful looks from the monk. Eventually Stan gave up taking notes and was rewarded with a smile from Rinpoche as a reward.
When I read this I couldn’t help thinking about different levels of human understanding. In our modern culture we tend to be obsessed with very a superficial level of understanding that is based primarily on words. But deeper levels of meaning are often difficult or impossible to put into words. If this were not so, we would not need art and music.
I think most people would agree with the things that Rinoche said. For example I can’t imagine anyone not agreeing with the suggestion that “Death is certain, but not the time”. The problem is that there is a difference between knowing that death is certain and really knowing that death is certain. I think that anyone who has received a diagnosis of cancer understands the certainty of death in a new, profound and deep way.
I think that Rinopche possibly felt that just writing down his words would not led to real understanding. And you know what? I think he was right.
You can read all of Stan’s article, ‘What Makes You Think You’ll Live Forever?’ here.
I used to be free,
Without restraint,
To dance my life away,
To a merry jig and a hop,
Or a graceful gentle waltz,
With movements smooth and warm,
Spinning and laughing without care,
In blind and mindless faith,
Full of hope for a future.
But now I’m tethered,
To my malevolent disease,
And dance a different dance,
Of jerky, uncoordinated movements,
Like a cadaver, all lifeless limbs,
A dance of desperation and despair,
As I move to a new master,
That must be obeyed, and learn how,
To dangle at the end of my strings.
I was interested to read on the web an article which claimed that cancer is now the number one killer worldwide (article here).
It stated that: “Cancer costs more in productivity and lost life than AIDS, malaria, the flu and other contagious diseases.” and claimed that cancer, heart disease and diabetes account for 60% of deaths worldwide.
I actually find this quite hard to believe, especially given all the attention to AIDs which is a truly appalling disease. However it is interesting to read an article that provides a view on cancer outside the developed world.
The article was based on a report for the the World Cancer Congress which is being held in China. The Chinese view on cancer was fascinating. I always tend to think that cancer is very much a western disease, but the report stated that of all the cancer patients in the world, 20% were Chinese (based on 2009 figures). That seemed a very high figure but of course China is the most populous country in the world and perhaps many of those cancer patients have lung cancer, a guess based on the fact that smoking is very prevalent in that country, as I can testify following a visit to China a few years ago.
It wasn’t just China that was mentioned in the article but also Ghana (another country that I have visited) and cancer was described as an ‘emerging disease in Africa’. A spokesman for Ghana said that cancer continues ‘to wreck the lives of Ghanaians.’
It would seem that there is to be a growing global awareness of the threat of cancer and a common desire to improve mortality. As always the best way to reduce cancer mortality is through early detection but once it is diagnosed, cancer treatments can be expensive and I wonder just how easy cancer sufferers in poorer countries will find it to access effective treatment.
I’m always pretending,
I have just returned from receiving my seventh jab of Zoladex. This is the mainstay of my hormone therapy treatment (which doesn’t seems to be working!) and is given to me as a three monthly injection as a pellet under the skin.
The name of my new acquisition is Lily Ann and she was built by a company called Colecraft back in 1978. That makes her a very elderly craft – an old lady of the canals. Colecraft is a well known narrowboat builder and the design of the boat was known as a Fenny Marine design with a distinctive canoe shaped bow that is quite unique. She is a small narrowboat at only 31 feet but that was part of her attraction for me. Many narrowboats are between 50 and 70 feet and although they offer more creature comforts they lack the charm and character of a small boat I often think. There are practical considerations too. Lily Anne is cheaper to maintain and run with low mooring fees and British Waterways licence fees, both based on boat length.
Finally on Monday 22nd August Sue and I picked Lily up from the boatyard and took her to the mooring at Cosgrove, the journey taking us a couple of days along a surprisingly pretty part of the canal. In fact we had hired a narrowboat many years ago quite close to Cosgrove and was familiar with that part of the canal. Having arrived at Cosgrove we spent the next couple of days painting most of the interior with bright almond white paint which made her look fresh and more spacious. After some discussion we agreed with the boatyard for the gas central heating on the boat to be removed and a simple stove put in its place, and so have been able to enjoy the pleasure of having a glowing fire to warm the boat.
Have returned home this evening from my CT(computerised tomography) scan at the hospital.
The Prostate Cancer Charity is organising a bike ride in September to raise awareness of prostate cancer. The event is called Tour Ride 2010 and there’s an excellent website about it with lots of information at 
I’ve been asked a couple of times, mainly by the medical practitioners that I’ve encountered, whether my father had prostate cancer. I’ve always answered honestly that I don’t know, neither does anyone in my family.
A good friend of mine, Stan Goldberg (author of ‘Lessons for the Living’) sent me a link to an article he wrote called ‘What Makes You Think You’ll Live Forever?’
I used to be free,
I was interested to read on the web an article which claimed that cancer is now the number one killer worldwide (article 
