Hey, how’ve you been? I’ve missed you; as well as missing most of my bodily hair, which seems to have disappeared from down-under (careful!).
Throughout both bouts of chemo I’ve been very lucky to have kept most of the hair on my head. I still have a bald patch on the top but if I look in the mirror at a certain angle it totally disappears (the Donald Trump wig can wait). What I didn’t realise was that while I was looking upwards to check, I should have been looking down. When I did, I found that my bits are bald: what was bountiful is now bare; what was bushy is now barren (ok, that’s enough about short’n’curlies). Not sure what they were for in the first place but I kinda miss them now they’re gone.
Talking of missing things when they’re gone, after the latest consultation with my oncologist I was more or less reconciled to my PSA level staying around the 60 mark, give or take. Then, after my 8th chemo, that short-lived stability was gone, shattered, blown out of the water. If you’re going to break a record then do it properly – PSA has risen to 74, from 58. That’s doing it properly, no messing about. Will it keep going up? Should make my next chemo interesting.
We don’t hang around here, though; especially with the good weather. In between chemo sessions, Anne and I have been back to Cardiff to see our friends’ daughter get hitched; to the sound of sheep in the background and a male voice choir to the fore (brought tears to the eyes – or was that the tight trousers?). I saw Spurs beat Fulham (my fingernails still growing back). We went to stay with Anne’s sister and brother-in-law just outside Richmond-on-Thames: Ham House = tick; Richmond Park = tick; Kew Gardens = tick; riverboat race = tick; banter = tick; beers = tick; beers = tick (no, not a mistake).
Back on the Denosumab now as well. Hopefully be able to come off some of the painkillers when it kicks in.
It’s all happening. Make sure you don’t miss the next exciting instalment (‘cos I’ve no idea what’ll be in it).