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I’m not sure if the injecting Nurse mistook me for for a Mike Myers character but it sounded suspiciously like he might have. As he showed me the needle that contained my first Hormone treatment, he informed me that it was easier to insert the implant when the patient had a layer of fat around their waist. If I’m “Fat Bastard” then he’s a “Cheeky Bastard”.😄

And as for the needle, it probably would have been better if he hadn’t proudly shown me how big it was before administering the treatment. I’ve seen horses try to savage Veterinarians when they’ve caught sight of smaller syringes than this one! I guess you need a big needle to inject 3 months worth of a Chemically Castrating drug into someone’s tummy.😄

As you’ve probably gathered, my visit to the Urologist on Monday, led to me commencing immediate Hormone Therapy. The Specialist provided a bit more information on my buddy Rupert. It seems that he is a particularly aggressive guest and he’s most likely taken up residence in my pelvic wall in addition to living in my prostate and pelvic lymph nodes. He made it clear, that an aggressive Rupert would be countered with aggressive treatments.

First up, I was to receive an implant of Zoladex 10.8mg at my GP’s Surgery from the aforementioned Cheeky Bastard. The implant delivers a constant dose of Testosterone removing Hormone into my system for the next 3 months. This implant was placed into my right side and the next one goes in on the left hand side in 3 months time.

Some of the anticipated side effects of the Zoladex bear a striking resemblance to Rupert’s symptoms and some are uniquely Hormone induced: decreased libido, decrease in bone density, erectile dysfunction, swollen and tender breasts, hot flushes, and pins & needles are all a good chance to occur.

Other common side effects include rashes, incontinence, bone pain, increased weight and mood swings.

I can’t say I had any of these likely intrusions on my Christmas wish list but if they are the necessary price to slow Rupert down, then I’ll happily put up with them.

In addition to the Hormone Therapy, I will now be commencing a course of Radiotherapy where Rupert will be bombarded with Radiation every day for between four and eight weeks. The daily bouts of Radiation Therapy will be administered as an outpatient at the Hospital and will involve the usual suspects arriving as side effects: an increased need to pee especially at night, a burning sensation while peeing, a slower stream than now (I’m not sure that is even possible) and more erectile dysfunction.

This combined Hormone Therapy and Radiation Therapy is seen as the best approach at this stage so I’ll give it a crack.

As the Hormone Implant was being injected it crossed my mind that Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire all did pretty well when they were given hormones so maybe I’ll be capable of hitting more Home Runs as the treatment cuts in. Admittedly their Hormones built massive strength and mine will leave me as weak as a kitten but who knows – just maybe my Hormones will see me hit a Home Run of a different nature and Rupert will be slowed down.

That’s about it for today’s installment. Covid is once again raging out of control so put on those N95 masks whenever you’re in a crowded, indoor space and enjoy today – tomorrow isn’t guaranteed to any of us.

Since the initial confirmation that Rupert had taken up permanent residency in my body, I’ve spent more hours than I care to remember Googling ways to better cope with his presence.

Some of the better advice I’ve came across on adapting to Living with Rupert, appears in a Paper on the Stanford Centre for Interactive Medicine website. Titled “Ten Steps toward Emotional Well-Being”.

The Article lists 10 coping strategies. Most I’ve included into my daily routine and I hope sharing them here might be of benefit to someone.

1. Facing the Reality of Your Illness

Since my first elevated PSA Blood Test back in May, I’ve been fully aware of the seriousness of my illness. Had I been under any illusions about what my future likely would involve, the treating Specialists would have set me straight. For me, their forthrightness was welcome and has helped me face the future comfortable with where life is taking me.

2. Maintaining Hope and Optimism

I’m not sure I’ve mastered this one. In accepting the reality of my illness feeling optimistic about the future is a touch difficult. Extensive studies of patients with Stage 4 Prostate Cancer indicate that 28% of us will see out 12 months after diagnosis. Having made a living on the punt for over 40 years, I have a pretty good understanding of odds and a 28%, twelve month survival rate, clearly means the odds are against me. I’ll continue to listen to the Specialists and access any treatments they suggest but the train of maintaining hope and being optimistic has already left the station.

3. Proportion and Balance

The first real indication that I was in serious trouble came via a phone call from my GP after my second elevated PSA Blood Test. I was actually driving to Melbourne for an Edwards Family Christmas In July. With Covid restrictions and living interstate, this was the first time we had got together as a Family since the death of my mother a number of years ago. It was a wonderful day and I’m so thankful that everyone made the effort to be there. The GP told me he’d requested an urgent appointment with the Urology Department at Canberra Hospital and the sinking feeling in my stomach after that call subsequently changed to one of acceptance of my situation. The Paper states “it is best if your positive and negative emotions balanced each other out such that you would be neither over reacting nor under-reacting to the medical realities facing you”. I think I have the balance about right.

4. Expressing Your Emotions

The World would be a far better place if we were all better at expressing our emotions irrespective of whether we have a terminal illness or are perfectly healthy. The maxim “big boys don’t cry” really impacts on our ability to express our emotions. I can vividly remember breaking down in tears when we lost an Under 14 Baseball GF to Bendigo East back in the day and the words “stop crying” still ring in my ears. The only time I’ve shed any tears over Rupert was when I had to tell my mate John Pate of my prognosis. I can’t explain why telling him was harder than it was telling my family or other close friends, but it was. The lack of tears when telling others that I loved had nothing to do with being embarrassed about crying. I’ve cried during movies, when losing sports contests, when winning sports contests, I balled my eyes out at the birth of my 2 children and 3 grandchildren and I’ve even cried at the funerals of strangers. Expressing my emotions has never been a problem for me and it shouldn’t be for you. Almost certainly I will shed plenty of tears as my situation evolves but it won’t be any sign of weakness – simply an indication that I understand how my illness is impacting on others.

5. Reaching Out for Support

I’m not sure how good I am at doing this. I do know that sharing my thoughts and experiences with you on this Blog has been extremely therapeutic and is my way of reaching out for support from people I care about. Just knowing that people think enough of me and my situation, to read my posts is the best emotional support I can get, so thank you for being there.

6. Adopting a Participatory Stance

This one I’ve mastered. Every step of the way, I’ve asked questions of my Medical Team and when I didn’t understand what they were saying, I asked for clarification. I’ve used Google extensively, not looking for faith healers or untested cures, but for explainers about what is happening to my body now and what is likely to happen in the future. I’m sure actively participating in the process and keeping myself fully informed has kept my emotional stress to a minimum.

7. Finding a Positive Meaning

The message here seems to be that I will benefit from taking stock of who I am and how I’ve been living. Since diagnosis I’ve attempted to reach out to people from my past that I’ve lost touch with over the years. Some have responded and some haven’t and I acknowledge that I haven’t been great in maintaining relationships with one time close friends. I regret that and it’s something I’m attempting to address. Rupert’s diagnosis has been a wake up call and I’ll be doing my best to ensure that I give positive meaning to the rest of my life. If I can do that, I know it will be me who benefits and cancer will have been the impetus for positive change even in the twilight of my life.

8. Spirituality, Faith, and Prayer

I’ve never been a person of faith and I can’t imagine I’ll somehow change my views in the coming months. The idea that there is an omnipresent God that decided to allow disease, wars, poverty, drought, etc to exist but still somehow decided to grant believers eternal life I find a ridiculous proposition. I respect other people’s faith but it’s not for me. I’ve tried to live my life treating others as I’d like them to treat me. In saying that, I have been trying to incorporate meditation into my life most days. Mindfulness was not something I’d ever thought about before diagnosis but I now try to employ a session every day. That’s as close as I’ll get to prayer but if you are a person of faith, I won’t be angry if you say a little prayer for me. It can’t hurt.

9. Maintaining Self-Esteem

This is a difficult one. I’ve never been particularly vain and that hasn’t changed with my diagnosis. I did pay for a haircut for the first time in years last month so maybe that’s my way of maintaining self-esteem. I don’t and won’t let cancer define who I am. What’s happening inside me isn’t who I am. I’m the same person now as I was last year and the year before that. I’m really struggling to maintain an exercise program but I’m not sure if that is due to Rupert or the lasting impacts of Covid. I can’t sleep through the night and I can’t stay awake during the day. The Hormone Therapy will clearly impact upon my self-esteem going forward but I’ll deal with it as best as I can.

10. Coming to Terms with Mortality

This is one area I have no problem with. I’ve always believed we are here for a good time and not for a long time. None of us are promised tomorrow and when my time is up I won’t be thinking about things I didn’t do but about the wonderful things I have done. Plenty of you have been a vital part of the good times in my life and I thank you for that. I’m comfortable with my own mortality and wouldn’t change a thing.

I guess I haven’t provided too many laughs with today’s Blog but I’ll attempt to do better when next I write. I have managed to get my appointment with the Urologist brought forward by a month and I see him again on Monday, hopefully to commence Hormone Therapy, so maybe that news might just bring a smile to your face.🙂

“We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else” – Libba Bray American author

Sport has been a large part of my life for as long as I can remember. As a kid attending Gravel Hill Primary School in Bendigo, every minute out of the class room was spent playing Test Cricket matches or Footy Grand Finals with my mates, depending on the Season. I hate to think how many hours I’ve spent in the ensuing sixty something years playing, coaching or watching sport. I don’t see any of those hours as wasted time but there have been a handful of instances where I truly regret my actions. I’m pretty sure the Statute Of Limitations for being an on field dick has long since passed so now, in the interest of honesty, I fess up to three incidents that I am far from proud of.

Over the years, I’ve learnt that hatred is a bit like Rupert. It will become all consuming if you let it take over your life and is a completely wasted emotion. Unfortunately, this wasn’t something I knew when I was younger. The emotion of HATE caused my earliest sporting regret.

In an earlier life I played cricket for Bendigo Cricket Club and we were playing a 4 day, A Grade Grand Final against Golden Square. I respected Golden Square and I had a few mates who played for them but I hated one of their best players with a passion. His name was “Popeye” Harris and I’m absolutely sure my hatred for him was reciprocated in spades.

Legend has it, that a few years earlier, Barney Jones (father of Dean Jones) allegedly placed a block of ice just short of a good length on the Princess Park pitch the night before day 2 of a District Cricket Semi Final against Melbourne University. Carlton had been dismissed for a disappointing total of 132 on Day 1 and all things being equal, a University win was considered a formality. The block of ice ensured things weren’t “equal” and University were bowled out for 62 with almost all wickets falling at the wet end.

On the eve of Day 4 of our Grand Final we had a lead of approximately 140 and with the Carlton victory fresh in my memory, I thought why not? A little bit of water just short of a good length on the Queen Elizabeth Oval wicket might be just the thing I needed to deny Popeye a Premiership. The only person I confided in about my plan was our Captain, Ron Lake, and he did his absolute best to talk sense to me but my hatred was all consuming, so at 1.00am, on the eve of day 4, I found myself groping around in the dark at the QEO searching for the hose to water the wicket. To my disappointment then, but to my absolute relief ever since, the Curator had locked the hose away and the worst I could do was take a leak just on a good length at the City end of the pitch and then go home to bed.

The next day we bowled the Square out for a losing score and I was able to give Popeye an appropriate send off. One of my wickets that day was Barry? Baker, a very good batsman for the Square, who shouldered arms to one that jagged back from outside off to knock over the castle. To this day, Ron Lake insists that it landed on a Pee induced wet spot but I know that it was simply me employing “reverse swing” before anyone else had even heard of it.😃

My hatred of one person could have destroyed the reputation of the Cricket Club I loved for years to come through one stupid act. Thankfully the hose was no where to be found.

The second incident I’m ashamed of occurred on the Baseball Field and the emotion involved this time was LOVE. They say love will make you do stupid things and on this particular day, true that. Not the love of family but the love of a best mate.

We were playing Doncaster this day and I was carrying a bit of an injury and fielding at first base to avoid running too much. Lindsay Orford was playing for Doncaster and was running at first. Lindsay was an outstanding Pitcher for Queensland who had moved to Victoria and played initially for Coburg and then for Doncaster. I’m not sure he had a nasty bone in his body and almost certainly didn’t deserve the retribution I dealt him.

The batter hit a weak pop up just behind first base and as I waited to catch the ball, Orford slid into my shin in his efforts to return to first base. His cleats made a small cut to my shin but more importantly they tore a hole in my brand new, red patent leather, Mizuno shoes that my baseball brother, John Pate had bought for me on a recent trip to his birthplace, Japan. To put it mildly, I wasn’t happy.

One play later Orford had made it to third base and I was still pissed. I guess it must have been a close game at this stage because Doncaster then bunted unsuccessfully with Orford going to be an easy out at home. The only realistic choice open to him was to try and run through John Pate to dislodge the ball so that’s what he did. I didn’t see it as a “realistic choice” but as a deliberate attempt to clean up my mate.

I think I was on top of Orford pummeling him for all I was worth before Chopper’s arse had even hit the ground. The nastiest all in brawl I’ve ever been involved in ensued and I know now that I was responsible for it. The Baseball Gods thought so too as I finished up with a broken front tooth and a substantial dental bill. Unusually for those times, the game was being videoed by a Doncaster fan, and the first vision of number 5 for Essendon entering the frame was when a size 10, red, patent leather shoe with a rip in the side, stomped on the hand of Lindsay Orford as he lay on the ground. I honestly can’t say if, in the heat of battle, I took aim at his hand but there’s no doubt I did it.

The Umpire that day was Bob Jones, one of the State’s best and an even better bloke and this was his first game back officiating after some serious heart issues. The video showed him deciding that getting in the middle of two teams of grown men punching on would not be good for his health so he basically turned his back on the blue. That’s probably why subsequently none of us had to face the Tribunal when in truth, we probably all should have. It would, and should, have been the only time I was reported.

If it hadn’t been Chopper (John Pate) that Orford cleaned up, I’m certain I wouldn’t have completely lost the plot but it was Chop and to my shame I did lose all self control. I put the entire thing down to my love for my baseball brother. It’s true, Love makes you do stupid things.

The third incident that I regret occurred at Malvern Baseball Club and this time I was Coaching third base for Essendon and the causation this time was ANGER. Daryl “Dirty” Dicker was playing third base for the Braves and, as he was inclined to do, he’d been giving me shit all day. Dirty is actually a really good bloke but you would have had great difficulty convincing me of that this particular Sunday afternoon.

I’m not sure if I’d had a filthy night on the punt at Moonee Valley Trots the night before or if I had a headache or if I was just sick of Dirty’s constant baiting but eventually anger took over and I threw a Match Ball at his head as hard as I could from about 5 metres away. To his credit, Dirty nonchalantly caught the ball and lobbed it back to the Umpire as if nothing had happened. I’m just glad he had the reflexes to avoid what could have been a serious injury. He’d completely got me in and in my rage, anger took over and I did something really stupid that could have had disastrous consequences. Thankfully after the Game we shook hands and shared a beer together but to this day, I still regret that moment of insanity.

I hope there are life lessons somewhere in here that my two youngest Grandchildren will take on board when they are old enough to read this Blog. Hate, Love and Anger are all feelings they will experience many times in their lives and I hope that they can handle them better than I did in the situations outlined above.

I’ve always been an impatient bastard. Whenever I’ve had something to do, I’ve always felt the need to get it done immediately. I suspect it’s a very mild form of OCPD but it meant that when faced with a task I’d usually complete it as quickly as possible. Completing an impending responsibility sooner rather than later is something I have attempted to instill into my my kids and grandkids. Unfortunately “you can lead a horse to water etc etc.”😒

I now find the commencement of my treatment to slow Rupert down is in a holding pattern as I wait for appointments with my treating Specialists. There have been January dates set to see the Radiologist and the Urologist but the wait is causing some mood swings that I’m attempting to deal with. Chemical Castration wasn’t on my Santa List for this year but if it has to happen then I just wish the procedure could get underway.

I’m up to day 6 with Covid now and I don’t feel too bad. I’m buggered all the time but I’m not sure if that’s due to Covid or Rupert. I spend a good part of my day sleeping but I’m optimistic I’ll be out and about (albeit wearing an N95 Mask) next week. It will be good to be able to give the Grandkids a Pop cuddle again.

Even at 69, I still enjoy the atmosphere of Baseball Club Training and I find throwing BP to be a challenging and rewarding exercise. I’d hate to think how many batting cage strikes I’ve thrown to John and Mitchell over their baseball odysseys. I can even recall 3 pitches where I missed the strike zone but 2 of those were when I had to hit them for being dicks⚾️😃. All being well I’ll be back at Club Training next week.

Grandson Mitchell has begun the ABL Season in good form. With Work and University commitments it wouldn’t have been practicable for him to continue playing for Adelaide and the move back to Canberra seems to be working out well. I’m looking forward to being able to get to some of his home games later in the Season. In the meantime I’m getting my Grandson “fix” by watching his games live on the ABL Website. The streams are available for free when you Register on the Site. My only advice would be that you’ll almost certainly enjoy the Games more with the sound muted.

Oh, and for all the romantics out there concerned about Granddaughter Ainsley’s love life, you can relax. The Engagement is back on. I’m not sure how well the paper engagement ring is holding up but it’s the thought that counts😄.

Don’t forget to invest in some N95 masks and for the sake of those you care about and yourself, wear them inside in confined spaces. COVID IS NOT THE FLU!

“Good morning Rupert. I’d like to introduce you to my new friend Covid. Covid will be living with me for a little while but unlike your good self, indications are that it will fuck off in about a week and allow me to get back to my life”.

The Pan Pac Games were a wonderful opportunity to renew old friendships and gave me the opportunity, perhaps for the last time, to embarrass myself out on the Baseball Field as I attempted to relive past glories. They also provided Covid with the perfect setting for a “super spreader” event.

Like plenty of other participants, I’ve returned home with the Virus. So far the symptoms haven’t been too bad (attention all Cookers out there – it’s actually a lot worse than a dose of the flu!) and by taking the recommended Molnupiravir Antiviral I should be fine in a week or so. It has a list price of $1,101.39 but is available to my demographic for $6.80. Have to love our PBS socialised medicine system – thanks Gough!

I thought of giving my dear friend Peter Manning a call, to obtain some Horse Wormer but decided to stick with the actual Medical advice and go with the Science. Peter is the best horse trainer I’ve ever met and a genius in his area of expertise but just like I wouldn’t ask my GP how to train a horse, I won’t be asking Peter should I be taking Ivermectin to treat Covid.

You would think that when God was deciding to inflict Covid upon the World, he might have engineered a Virus that would say, attack and destroy Cancer Cells, instead of one that goes after the health of the sick and the elderly and the vulnerable in this World. He’s a funny old bastard is God. I bet he’s having a real laugh at all the pain and damage his virus has caused.😃

I’m now awaiting an appointment with my Urologist to commence a course of Hormone Therapy and hopefully this upswing in Covid cases won’t overwhelm the Hospital services as it has done previously. I’d prefer to get cracking on the treatment sooner rather than later. Given that the aim of the treatment is to basically remove all testosterone from my body, perhaps I’ll be able to get a medical exemption to play in the Women’s Baseball Competition going forward🤔.

My Grandson Mitchell kicked off the ABL Season with a good weekend for his new Team, the Canberra Cavalry. Hit the ball really well, caught great and they won all 4 games so it was a nice start to the season.

I’m writing this at 3.15 in the morning and I think I’m safe in assuming that one of the side effects for me of combining Rupert with Covid is insomnia. Might have to see if a nice bottle of red every night will help me sleep. Purely for medicinal reasons only of course.

Stay safe my friends and please mask up, not just for your own health, but also for the well being of others. Invest in some N95 masks and wear them in Public settings. It’s a small inconvenience that just might save the life of someone you care about.

Love Russ ⭕️❌

The Boys Of Summer is a terrific Sports Book written by Roger Khan in 1972 and Amazon describes it as “a book about young men who learned to play baseball during the 1930s and 1940s, and then went on to play for one of the most exciting major-league ball clubs ever fielded, the team that broke the color barrier with Jackie Robinson.”

I learned to play baseball a little bit after the 30’s and 40’s (only just mind you!) and I certainly never went on to play with the Brooklyn Dodgers like The Boys Of Summer did, but I wouldn’t trade my baseball life for any of them.

My late Brother Johnny introduced me to the game in Bendigo when I was about 8. Each Saturday afternoon he would sit me in the back seat of his old Humber Hawk and we’d head off to wherever Falcons were playing that day. No matter where the game was played, the day would conclude with me sitting in the car by myself outside the Pub with a lemon squash while Johnny downed a pot or 6 in the bar. My poor old mum would have been horrified if she knew but I loved it.

Now just over 60 years later I still love the Game as much as I ever have. A handful of my absolute best friends come from my years at the Essendon Baseball Club and this past week I’ve been blessed to spend another week in their embrace out on the Baseball Field. If it’s the last time we play together then this was a good week to finish up on.

We started playing Masters Baseball together in 1994 in the World Masters Games in Brisbane solely due to the efforts of Kingsley Collins and Ian Brain from Ballarat. The Goldiggers, as we were called, are still going strong today, 28 years later, and this week we played in the Pan Pacs on the Gold Coast. There are 3 of the original 1994 Team still going around which isn’t a bad effort.

Someone asked me during the week what it was like to hit a Home Run in Baseball and I attempted to explain how euphoric the feeling is. It really is hard to put into words but I think the former Australian Cricket Captain, Ian Chappell, managed to capture the power of that moment when you square one up perfectly, many years ago.

We played against Ian Chappell in our first Masters Tournament in 94 and he played catcher for a group of outstanding former Claxton Shield and Australian players. They were known as The Crocodiles then and subsequently evolved into Interport. We had some great games against them over the years and friendships commenced back in earlier Claxton Shield games were solidified over a beer in the Masters.

Anyway, shortly after that first Series against The Crocodiles, Ian Chappell was interviewed for a Celebrity Profile piece in The Age newspaper (it was actually a great Newspaper in those days – today not so much). He was asked the usual frivolous questions about his favorite meal, his favorite movie, who he’d like to be stranded on a desert island with, etc then they finally asked him something important – “What is the highlight of your sporting career?” This was a man who’d captained Australia to Ashes victories, scored centuries against all the Test playing Countries of his time and retired as Australia’s third top run scoring batsman behind Bradman and Harvey.

I am paraphrasing but he replied “you may not believe this but the highlight of my sporting life occurred just a few weeks ago when, for the first time I hit a Home Run on an enclosed Baseball Field and I got to jog the bases”. In other words, hitting a home run is more satisfying than scoring 196 against the “old enemy” at The Oval. That says it all really.

I like to think my brother’s passion for the game is the reason I still love playing today. Both his sons, Brendan and Mark played for our State, my son John signed a Professional Contract and played with the Minnesota Twins Organisation and my eldest Grandson, Mitchell, signed a Professional Contract and played with the Philadelphia Phillies Organisation. My second Grandson, 8yo Robert, actually won his first baseball trophy just last night with the Canberra Cavalry. Admittedly it was in an on field dancing competition but it’s a start.⚾️

Babe Ruth is supposed to have said “Never allow the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game”. It’s a good rule to live by – none of us should ever be afraid of having a crack. I like to think I never was.

I didn’t realize today was Remembrance Day until I started today’s post. The minute of silence at the eleventh hour was something I grew up with but now not so much. My maternal Grandfather served with distinction in the First World War winning the Military Medal and my Dad served overseas for most of the Second World War. Compared to the obstacles they overcame, Rupert is just a pimple on an elephants arse.

The Hormone Therapy I’ll commence when I get back to Canberra will involve periodic injections and maybe tablets. The side effects are a bit of a bastard –

• loss of interest in sex (lowered libido)
• erectile dysfunction
• hot flashes
• loss of bone density
• bone fractures
• loss of muscle mass and physical strength
• changes in blood lipids
• insulin resistance
• weight gain
• mood swings
• fatigue
• growth of breast tissue (gynecomastia)

Not too happy about most of those but given that the alternative is Orchiectomy (or as I like to call it Gelding) I think I’ll give it a try. I’m still a bit too attached to my Salada Crackers to go down that route.

The reason I’m not a candidate for removal of the Prostate is that Rupert has already snuck into my lymph nodes so it will be Hormone Therapy initially maybe coupled with Radiotherapy and/or Chemotherapy down the track a little bit.

At no stage have I experienced any pain whatsoever but I know I have that waiting for me at some time in the future, but when it does I’ll deal with it. Apart from having to get up to pee too many times during the night, being incredibly tired all the time and having to always wear an incontinence pad, life goes on as normal.

I’m currently on the Gold Coast playing in the Pan Pacific Masters Games with dear Baseball mates from 5 decades ago. An upside to the wearing of an incontinence pad is that I’ve found Heavy Duty Depends Male Guards make an excellent alternative to a jock strap and cup.

On the day it was confirmed that Rupert was Stage 4 (only 7 days ago but it seems longer) my beautiful 6yo Granddaughter, Ainsley, FaceTimed me to let me know she’d got engaged to Patrick at School and that he had given her a paper engagement ring. She assured me that she was “really looking forward” to getting married. Yesterday she informed me the Engagement was off. Life comes at you really fast these days.

Today is November 10, 2022. Sometime earlier this year an evil bastard invaded my body in the form of Prostate Cancer. Going forward that “evil bastard” will be referred to only as Rupert in recognition of the Murdoch Malignancy eating into our Country’s heart.

In late May of this year a routine blood test showed I had a PSA Level of approximately 17. My wonderful GP, Dr Walker, ordered another test and approximately 21 days later the PSA level had jumped to 24. I then had an Ultrasound of the Renal Track which suggested some issues so it was off to the Urologist for me.

My first examination with the Specialist took place on July 18. He concluded/hoped that the rapid increase in PSA was due to an infection he detected through a digital rectal exam and prescribed 6 weeks of antibiotics to be followed up by an MRI. The MRI confirmed the presence of Prostate Cancer so the next step was a Transrectal Biopsy carried out on October 19 at Calvary Hospital.

The Biopsy Results take a couple of weeks to come through and during that time I had a Nuclear Medicine TC-PSMA Scan to see if the Cancer had escaped my Prostate.

The Biopsy and Scan Results were probably as expected to be honest and on November 4, it was confirmed that Rupert is a Stage Four invader.

After a Meeting this morning of the Urology Department at Canberra Hospital, they have determined that I should commence Hormone Therapy ASAP so that’s where my journey with Rupert has taken me so far.

I am really content with where I am. I think I must have been kissed on the dick by a fairy many years ago to have experienced the life I’ve enjoyed. I have a wonderful, supportive Family and more truly great friends than anyone is entitled to so no regrets here.

I am happy to share mine and Rupert’s journey together with anyone who may feel it can help them. There’ll be no tears and there’ll be none of that “fighting cancer” bullshit. If my body eventually decides it’s had enough of living with Rupert, then so be it, but it won’t be because Rupert has won any “fight”. It will just be that my race is done and game is over.
“Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose and sometimes it rains”. Rupert won’t have won and I won’t have lost – it will just be another rainout.

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