It’s been one of them months of ups and downs.

Most of the up’s have been fantastic. The new job is fantastic, I am happy, content and I am appreciated. I am running 5km, non-stop, three times a week in under 30 minutes, just me and the manky foxes at 5am. I have lost weight. I had taken a gamble with crypto and made an unbelievable 4000% return on a small investment. Yes, King you can even get in and take piece of the happy pie. Look at you, looking your best since the de-prostrating.

You beautiful, impressive brute, you.

Even a blind man, locked in a safe, on board a soviet fishing boat could take a stab at the next set of events to rear their pretty little head, my way. The balance of life had been disrupted, for the better in my favour. Balance had to be restored.

I got my six-monthly prostate cancer routine call from the hospital in late December.

“How are you, how was your Christmas”

“Blah, blah, blah, blah’

“Your PSA has risen to 0.1 and we need to look at the next step, which would be radiation treatment.”

“I will book an MRI scan for you by the end of January and if you take another PSA at the same time, we can take it from there.”

She asked me if there was anything else.

Somehow, there was not likely to be.

A PSA rise to 0.1 seems tiny to those not in the know. The readings had been fluctuating for a while now, but they had not been too bad. The fact of the matter is, as I had been de-prostrated my PSA should be undetectable. This last set of results indicated that something, somewhere has been left behind. I read that back to myself and instantly thought of ‘Home Along’ bizarre, I am losing the plot!

It was the middle of a Friday afternoon, and I still had a few work hours to go. I just sat stunned in my chair. Actually, I sat defeated and shell-shocked in my chair is a far more accurate description.  My mind was all over the place. It bought me right back to that fateful day in the hospital, sitting in the tiny ‘death room’ where I was given the two brown envelopes and asked to make a life changing decision. Prostate out and here are the side effects. Prostate in, have radiation and hormone therapy and these are the even longer list of side effects. The only thing missing from the latter was a list of recommended shops I could go and purchase make-up and a new blouse.

My biggest fear had not just hit me but absolutely clobbered me with a sucker punch.

Even though the nurse had not mentioned hormone therapy, I knew it went hand in hand with the radiotherapy. It scared me then, it terrified me now. I am trying hard not to think of the list of side effects I could experience but it’s like going into your favourite nightclub and a bad partner has been stalking you.

I could be turned into a chunky, black, bald, bird called Lilly, with a goatee. I laughed in disbelief and feared the thought in equal measure.

It took a couple of hours, but I got my groove back and knew that I couldn’t take this sitting down. I made some immediate changes.

I thought of the foods, that I have been eating regularly, that I know could contain hormones and excess sugar. Ice cream, dairy, red meat, chocolate, malibu alcohol, biscuits and sweets. I am left with memories and the occasional weird look from the kids as I tenderly sniff their sweet unhealthy treats.

I thought the ice cream would be a deal breaker but nope, (finishing off the current and emergency tubs, ‘Alpha’ and ‘Beta’) I went rouge, cold turkey and have been that way since.

Not even a few weeks grace into the new year.

Give with one hand and slap you in the chops with the other.

Happy New, flipping 2022.