Yesterday, the pressure of coping with my prostate cancer - along with a couple of domestic crises - finally took its toll. Almost without any warning, I found myself having to deal with a visit from my Black Dog.
I don’t know what triggered it, but I was sitting in my armchair when everything around me seemed to go dark, and I suddenly lost any motivation to do anything. A feeling of profound sadness engulfed me, and my head felt as if someone had put a metal band around it just above my eyes … and was tightening it.
Luckily, over the years, I have developed strategies to deal with this situation when it arises. Whilst the irrational part of my brain is urging me to either cry or go into fight or flight mode, the rational part of my brain keeps reminding me to stay calm, breath regularly, and avoid doing anything that requires concentration. I know that by following these simple rules, it will pass … and after a couple of hours, it did.
This afternoon I have an appointment at the local hospital for a pre-operation assessment. Assuming everything is all right, I will be undergoing a surgical procedure next week that should mean that my prostate will begin to function normally, and I will no longer need to wear a catheter and bag.
Once that has happened, my case will be passed from the Urology Department to the Oncology Department, who will then deal with the cancer. This might require further surgery, radiology, or even chemotherapy … but the decision as to which of these courses of treatment is chosen will depend upon the results of tests on samples taken during next week’s procedure.
I am feeling far more positive today than I did yesterday. The visit by my Black Dog is over … and I hope that it will not return again soon.
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