You may remember this post from a year ago where I saw a urologist for elevated prostate specific antigens. My PSA was a little high, but the prostate was okay. The only condition was I needed to follow-up a year later; in this case, yesterday.
The crazy stupid hot Russian nurse – it’s awesome living amongst Russians – took my vitals, drew blood, and had me urinate into a machine which analyzes it. It was like peeing into a big bucket. Shortly afterward, the doc “probed” me and sat me down to explain a few things.
My PSA level is 2.9, which he described as “a little high for someone who is 49 years old.” He then said, “Now I don’t think this is something we can ignore, and I also don’t think we need to do a biopsy…” Straight talk… I like it. “But I’ll looks at today’s blood work and see you again in two weeks.”
Whew, I dodged that bull-
“That said, if it IS prostate cancer, your version is 100% treatable.”
I’m gonna be honest here; I really didn’t hear anything after the words “prostate cancer.”
So now we play the waiting game. I either have prostate cancer or I don’t, but tune in two weeks from now to see the stunning conclusion!
Oh, and as if the day wasn’t depressing enough, my heart monitor arrived an hour after I arrived home. So now I’m hooked up with electrodes, a monitor, and a mini cellphone I need to press when I have a PVC incident. So yeah, life is just a big old god damned fairy tale.