Yesterday, poor old DonDiego was officially released from ongoing surveilance by his oncologist of a cancer discovered last Summer. DonDiego has, indeed, beaten the Big-C.
Last Summer DonDiego's semi-annual medical tests indicated a significant rise in his prostate-specific antigen levels suggesting a cancer within his prostrate gland, . . . located somewhere between his hiney and his wee-wee. Although this is a location normally subject to very little traffic, . . . for several weeks it became quite an attraction, . . . and his rectum became a thoroughfare for numerous index fingers and even-less-pleasant stainless-steel medical devices, . . . the most disagreeable of which actually extracted small bits of his prostate gland to confirm the diagnosis, which it, in fact, did.
So, the physicians in attendance [his family physician, his urologist, and his oncologist] presented three options:
i. Delay any procedure; observe the cancer to see if it becomes more objectionable. This option does not suit DonDiego's personality; he'd've thought of little else for the duration of this wait-and-see interval.
ii. Surgery to remove the prostrate gland either through the abdomen or the perineum region. DonDiego did not embrace these options, . . . especially the perineum route.
iii. Radiation treatment directed at the cancer within the prostrate. As this seemed the most magical treatment, . . . invisible "rays" defeating the tumor and all, . . . DonDiego chose it.
So for 9 weeks, Monday through Friday, last Summer DonDiego would get naked-from-his-waste-to-his-knees, hop onto a table, and receive a dose of magic-radiation from a gigantic ray-gun at the local hospital. (DonDiego named it Ronald.*) The operators of this device were young folks, mostly female and mostly in their twenties, who projected an upbeat mood when in DonDiego's company; Poor old DonDiego supposes they did the same with all their patients, but he appreciated it anyway.
During and subsequent to receiving the radiation, and even today, DonDiego exhibited some unpleasant symptoms caused by the treatment; DonDiego will let it to the interested reader, if any, to look these up, but he can say the most amusing was excessive gas within his bowels. In fact, this is probably the only amusing symptom.
And then, . . . waiting.
Until now when a blood test revealed the prostate-specific antigen level of less than 1 nanogram per milliliter.
DonDiego is officially cancer-free.
What a Country !
DonDiego counsels every man over 50 to have his prostate-specific antigen levels checked regularly.
* Ronald Ray-gun.
Last Summer DonDiego's semi-annual medical tests indicated a significant rise in his prostate-specific antigen levels suggesting a cancer within his prostrate gland, . . . located somewhere between his hiney and his wee-wee. Although this is a location normally subject to very little traffic, . . . for several weeks it became quite an attraction, . . . and his rectum became a thoroughfare for numerous index fingers and even-less-pleasant stainless-steel medical devices, . . . the most disagreeable of which actually extracted small bits of his prostate gland to confirm the diagnosis, which it, in fact, did.
So, the physicians in attendance [his family physician, his urologist, and his oncologist] presented three options:
i. Delay any procedure; observe the cancer to see if it becomes more objectionable. This option does not suit DonDiego's personality; he'd've thought of little else for the duration of this wait-and-see interval.
ii. Surgery to remove the prostrate gland either through the abdomen or the perineum region. DonDiego did not embrace these options, . . . especially the perineum route.
iii. Radiation treatment directed at the cancer within the prostrate. As this seemed the most magical treatment, . . . invisible "rays" defeating the tumor and all, . . . DonDiego chose it.
So for 9 weeks, Monday through Friday, last Summer DonDiego would get naked-from-his-waste-to-his-knees, hop onto a table, and receive a dose of magic-radiation from a gigantic ray-gun at the local hospital. (DonDiego named it Ronald.*) The operators of this device were young folks, mostly female and mostly in their twenties, who projected an upbeat mood when in DonDiego's company; Poor old DonDiego supposes they did the same with all their patients, but he appreciated it anyway.
During and subsequent to receiving the radiation, and even today, DonDiego exhibited some unpleasant symptoms caused by the treatment; DonDiego will let it to the interested reader, if any, to look these up, but he can say the most amusing was excessive gas within his bowels. In fact, this is probably the only amusing symptom.
And then, . . . waiting.
Until now when a blood test revealed the prostate-specific antigen level of less than 1 nanogram per milliliter.
DonDiego is officially cancer-free.
What a Country !
DonDiego counsels every man over 50 to have his prostate-specific antigen levels checked regularly.
* Ronald Ray-gun.
