One in every 10 men over 60 has trouble with his prostate gland. This gland surrounds the urethra, the tube which passes urine from the bladder to the penis, and has a tendency in later life to enlarge, inhibiting the bladder from functioning and causing pain.
Almost two years ago, industrial chemist Ian Hood (61) went for a check-up. He kept a diary of subsequent events.
December 12th, 1996 - Visit my GP because I think I should have a 60,000-mile check up. My 60th birthday is next February. I am referred to a clinic for a stress ECG and blood tests, including PSA (Prostate Selective Antigen) and lipids.
December 16th - Attend clinic. The procedures go well. The results will be forwarded to my GP.
December 23rd - My wife Margaret meets our GP who has received some results. I appear to be fairly fit, but one blood test not yet back.
January 6th, 1997 - A letter arrives from our GP telling us that a hospital appointment has been secured. I go into orbit. What appointment? Why? We learn that the PSA result was very high, hence the referral.
January 8th - Attend hospital. Further tests carried out. The consultant would like me to attend as an outpatient for a prostatic ultrasound scan and biopsy, and a PSA sample.
January 9th - Attend hospital as an outpatient. Further tests taken. Make an appointment to review biopsy results on January 29th.
January 29th - Margaret and I set off for hospital in fairly confident mood. We plan to have coffee and cakes later, plus a scenic drive. I meet my surgeon who explains that they can now confirm that I have a tumour in the right lobe of my prostate.
I foolishly say "at least it's not malignant", but he explains that the tumour is indeed cancerous and that I should be admitted to hospital on February 2nd.
The first two days would be spent completing scans. If no proliferation were evident, he would remove two pelvic lymph nodes to see if malignancy had spread. If so, I would immediately be sewn up again and undergo hormone or radium treatment elsewhere. If not, he would proceed with prostate removal, cutting the waterworks connection, and lifting up the bladder to get at the problem area. He would remove affected tissues while protecting local nerve connections.
I return to the car and tell Margaret. We go home. No coffee, no cakes.
February 2nd - Book into private hospital room. Spend the next two days completing preliminary scans.
February 5th - Surgeon visits to tell me all scans are clear. Operation scheduled for February 6th. Given a pair of elastic stockings to wear to prevent blood clotting, instructed to wear from now on, or else!
February 6th - Operation day. Given two tranquillisers at 10.30 a.m. They take me away at 11 a.m. Down in the lift to the theatre, very nice nurse there, I think . . . until they black me out.
Evening. Margaret visits. I am apparently bloated looking and not too chatty. Am moved back to my own room in late evening complete with personal morphine dosing machine, two stomach drain bags, catheter and bag, saline drip.
February 7th - Surgeon visits early. After an initial difficulty the operation went well, he says.
February 9th - Saline drip is removed today and I have my first corridor walk. If you don't keep your stockings pulled up, you get your legs smacked by Lorraine, the carer.
February 10th - Stomach tube drains are removed. A very nasty feeling, not excessively painful, but squirmy.
February 11th - The medical entourage examines my six-inch, 26 clipped stomach wound, tells the nurse to remove every second clip today and the remainder tomorrow. Not as traumatic as it seems.
February 13th -"Hand" bag changed for leg bag, which is more discreet but causes me to list badly when it gets full.
February 17th - I have been offered a white coat by ward sister for bringing to her attention a red call emergency light which had not been noticed! Go home today.
February 17th - 22nd - I improve more slowly than I would like. Resign myself to a sedentary lifestyle for the immediate future.
February 22nd - Back into hospital for catheter removal. A mild urinary infection is diagnosed. I have an injection and go on antibiotics. I spend so much time away from the ward, I am under threat of receiving another "white coat" warning from ward sister.
February 23rd - My birthday. After breakfast, the catheter is removed and I go for a shower.
February 24th - My surgeon says he is delighted with my progress and that I can go home today. I pluck up the courage to ask him what my PSA level was at the outset all those months ago. He pauses and then says that it was above the maximum test reading. I'm glad I hadn't asked previously, and hope he wouldn't have told me if I had.
March 24th - A further blood sample provided
April 9th - I attend hospital for a check-up. My blood PSA has reduced to zero.
Ian Hood's subsequent check- ups have all been satisfactory. He believes he was fortunate in having an alert GP who sent him for further tests and in his constultants' knowledge and skill. "Some men are more likely to exchange symptoms in the golf club than to go to their doctor, it's a macho thing", he says. "I think I have been very lucky in going for a check-up when I did".