Moving on?

   We have been expecting this moment. Up until recently, nothing could have moved us from this community and this church congregation. But a few years ago, we recognised that we would have to move if one of us lost a driver’s licence, or if the health of either of us became critical, or if the progress of my prostate cancer became hastened.

   For a year now, we have watched my PSA readings go up by as much as 70% each three months. If that very high rate of increase continues, we could be looking at PSA 100 in a year and a half. Of course, the PSA is not necessarily a measure of the cancer’s growth, but it’s an indication that my body thinks there is something that needs dealing with.

   So, while I am fit and not in the least affected by the cancer—it’s the therapies that make life a bit unpleasant at this stage, not the disease!—we think that we have to prepare to move on. That means eventually finding a place where Bev will be comfortable to be on her own, probably a retirement village somewhere near family.

   And it also means tackling a lifetime’s collection of bits and pieces and tidying a sample of them into a simple record. Here’s a receipt for afternoon tea at Bridge Lodge in 1956 – but not all my receipts! And there are some photos, slides, videos and things that may be of interest to family at some time.

   In the process I found a couple of hundred 35mm slides of Dad’s. He gave them to me, all neatly wrapped in little marked bundles, when he was downsizing twenty years ago. Now I have the capability to scan them to a computer disk so descendents he never met will be able to see a little of his life. Not outstanding photography, but clear and bright images from another day. I am so glad to have these and hope that the little of my life that I am passing on will be of as much interest to those who may see it in years to come.

   Nothing is forever, not even memories shifted from fragile film and tape to disk. But, at the same time, the preservation of a little of any life is a worthwhile exercise. I am finding it creative and enjoyable, and every box of rubbish that goes for recycling leaves behind some small contribution to the life of our family.

The Ca Pros Report

Some friends who have been following my adventures with prostate cancer will know that I haven't had a measurable PSA test for three years. That is, until three months ago, when it re-appeared at 0.2, the lowest measurable reading you can get.

We didn't broadcast that a whole lot at the time. We thought it best to wait and see for another three months. But. given my two previous lively resurgences, we had some reason to expect that this might be the beginning of another steady rise.

However, this week's reading is exactly the same: 0.2. It seems that the combined therapy of Zoladex inplants and daily Casodex tabs are continuing to starve the cancer. When you're ticking off your life by three-monthly tests, this is pretty encouraging.

But, of course, we actually should be ticking off our lives day by day, not quarter by quarter. We should be making the most of every day, every moment, For we never know what lies around the corner.

Today we will live for today. Well, perhaps we had better live for next Sunday, since I have one of my infrequent appearances as worship leader... And there is the parish newsletter... And Bev keeps reminding me about the shabby state of the garden... And...  oh, heck, let's get out in the sunshine with a book...

Mortality! Mortality!

The 100 year old patriarch in our family, having survived a second hip joint operation, was back in his rooms only a few days when he had a “bit of a turn”. The doctor thinks he perhaps had a small stroke but there’s no obvious evidence of it.

On the phone last night he said that it was a good and gentle experience and if that’s what it was like to go then he wasn’t afraid and was ready. He almost wished he just could have popped off. Apart from the fact that the NZ taxpayers have gifted you this mechanical joint that’s good for ten or fifteen years or more, that’s a good thought, Dad. I hope I can be as relaxed about it when my time comes.

On the way home from the birthday celebrations we stopped off in Whangarei for my quarterly injection of Zoladex. My tests suggest that it doesn’t seem to be suppressing my prostate cancer as completely as we had hoped. My PSA became measurable again a few months ago and, though the figures are very tiny, is showing signs of doubling fairly quickly. That’s a bit of a disappointment, I guess, but we’ll probably add some other medication next time so I can do my best to outlive the old Dad by a respectable amount.

Meanwhile, we have a lot of life to get on with.... Watch this space!