I'm only 42!: My journey through prostate cancer

By Daniel Warren

A no holds barred account of my 'real and very human' journey through prostate cancer, from diagnosis, to treatment and recovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Jul 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649698759

Book preview

I'm only 42!

Disclaimer: 

Does this contain swearing? Yes.

Does this book address bodily functions in detail? Yes.

Does this book address sex and all its highs and lows? Yes.

Does this book look at the mental effects of hard decisions? Yes.

If you are prepared for all of this, please read on.

Why is this such a candid account?

All literature on prostate cancer is dealing with the treatment. The side effects are stated by some doctors and glossed over by others. This is understandable, virtually any side effect is better than losing your life. 

But, at 42, another 20-40 years of side effects are a mountainous and horrifying thing to comprehend. There are no personal accounts that i can find of how it feels dealing with this diagnosis and its side effects at this age. This is what I hope to address in this book. Some of the complications i suffered are not common to all men after surgery, but, this book proves that they can occur.  

September 2017.

I hate needles. I can rip myself open (and regurely do) on wire, tools, caravan doors and anything else that gets in my way with no issues. I can dig splinters out of myself with only a few swear words. But show me a needle and I turn to jelly. 

I’m 41. There is a very strong family history of prostate cancer. I’ve promised my mother for a year now that I will get my PSA checked. She has gotten more insistent as the months have gone by. So now is the time. Luckily I have a nurse for a wife who can take my blood. The last attempt, nearly 10 years ago, at the doctor’s surgery caused a minor dilemma. I passed out. And they still didn’t get the blood; something about withdrawing consent when the patient is out cold was the reasoning. No worries now though, she was getting this blood whether I was awake or not.  I sat in the chair at her surgery and she poked the needle in. I started to sweat. The vein collapsed. She giggled. I started to see black spots. She tried again and managed to fill her tube and turned back to celebrate the good news. The smile quickly faded and I was told to lie back flat as she handed me a spew bag. Ten minutes later I was able to sit up, fifteen and I was feeling I would keep the previous evenings dinner. 

Three days later the doctor called me in; the numbers were triple what they should be. I’m in the grey area between clear and cancer. But we now need to develop a baseline of results to make sure.

January 2018.

We don’t take a risk on a doctor’s surgery visit, the blood is taken at home. I lie on the bed before breakfast and the needle approaches. It’s much easier this time. The PSA has dropped a couple of decimal points. Maybe my levels are just elevated naturally and this is where I shall hover for the next 20 years. Fine by me. We need to repeat in 6 months.

25 June 2018.

Yet another day for a blood test swings around and I’m lying on the lounge room floor anticipating the dreaded needle. The vein collapses; there is no blood in there. The wife/nurse orders me to drink a pint of water. Half an hour later we try again, the second stab works. I’m late for work but I need to wait for the shakes to stop before I can get up and head off.

Three days later, I’m called in for a result. The PSA is up nearly 20% in six months. I’m annoyed, I’m too young for this. My father’s generation are the ones dealing with this in their late 50’s, I’m only bloody 42!

31 August 2018.

I spend two days sorting out appointments with two different specialists. One who chopped open my father 12 years ago and a second who is working on my uncle in 4 months. I go to the GP to get the referrals, he suggests a urologist but I tell him I have two already lined up and I need the referrals. He shrugs and explains a few bits and pieces about the next steps, there isn’t much he says that I don’t already know. He sends off both referrals and wishes me luck. 

24 September 2018.

Urology specialist number 1. Nice guy. Reads the PSA numbers and tells me they are up. Due to your family history is his next opening….. How I will come to despise hearing those five words.

I was lead behind a curtain and told to drop my pants as he lubed up a finger. Not the nicest feeling in the world, but at least he was nice enough to wipe my arse for me afterwards. I thank him and note that he is the first person to wipe my bum for me since I was five! He delivers his verdict that my prostate is a nice small size; no bumps or lesions. I’m chuffed, I have a cute little prostate gland. 

A biopsy is discussed. I don’t want to be stabbed down there. The wife/nurse asks a lot of questions about biopsies and infection risks. They don’t go up the butt anymore, it’s all through the perineum, so no issues with infections we are assured. 

An MRI is offered for three days into the future, I accept. I learn that I need a rush job PSA as two high readings are required within a three month period to allow Medicare to pick up the tab. On the phone, the imaging place claim I will be required to pay $400 for their services as I’m under 55. The family history card gets played for the second time and Medicare steps up, thankfully.

25 September 2018.

Fast. PSA. Work.

For once the needle goes straight in and the blood comes straight out. Or so I’m told, I can’t watch. That’s the benefit of drinking 3 pints of