The big C. Cancer. It came, not like a bolt out of the blue, but a more insidious, creeping, sneaking, lingering…..like a, well like a bloody cancer. How, why, and more importantly when, will I die? Well here’s the story of my journey, voyage, trip, whatever it becomes. It may well be that no-one cares, but I believe that in the world, there must be someone, somewhere, who may appreciate me sharing my story, and injecting a little humour on the way. So, if you are in, are just about to be in, have loved ones who are in, or have been in the same position, hop on. It will be crude, it will get sweary, it may get teary. I don’t know, it’s probably for me as much as you. I’m no author or writer, but I guess I have a pragmatic approach to life combined with an innate ability to see the comedy in things despite adversary.
I’m 48 and have just been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I’m married to a beautiful lady, and have three kids 10-14. I’m a nurse. Not so much a hands on ward nurse, but more of a generalist, health adviser/promoter/explainer type of nurse. More on that later, I imagine. Nurses sometimes have a weird sense of morbid humour. I am one of those. We are not sick. It helps us cope with the dead, the departing, the diseased, the dismembered, the distressed, deluded, demented, and if we are unlucky, the diarrhoea.
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As I write, I should point out that these tales are based on real life scenarios, sometimes with an element of embellishment. Please don’t get your knickers in a twist, because it probably didn’t quite happen exactly that way………if I have used an image that I shouldn’t or there’s anything that I, or a reader has written that breaches any laws, let me know, and I’ll take steps to rectify. If you find it in bad taste, scroll on by. Talking about cocks, balls, piss and erections, will help improve men’s lives. That’s not a bad thing.