Mention prostate cancer to a man and generally the first thought that comes into his head is his tackle. Not cancer or death but what is it going to do with his tackle. I get it, I really do. Overnight I had gone from, as the French would say, ‘Le Magnifique’ to the post surgery and depressing ‘Minuscule et idiot’. Or in keeping to our title theme I had gone from the majestic, powerful command centre they call Thunderbird One to a broken version of the silly, stubby aquatic little Thunderbird Four.
Hello Erectile Dysfunction. Read More »
The shirt was crisp and new. Shoes had achieved a mirror like polish. The suit was doing it. Leaflets and presentation packed. I was so ready and excited heading out to my first solo venture for PCUK in Croydon. I got there in plenty of time and pulled up to the gate. Banners? Cheerleaders? Waving crowds? Nope, nudda and keep hoping. Instead one great big hefty padlock and chain, cobwebs and a deserted building. The word was out then about my latest talk. Oh, and not to think ‘impending doom’ but it began to chuck it down. All that was missing was thunder, Halloween type music coming from the tress, a dark sinister mist descending from nowhere and a man in a mask.Read More »
Watson told me what his doctor said to him and I repeated it back to him. I did it so, loud and deliberate. As you know I am not a man of violence but I had to stop the car because I was so mad and at that precise moment I wanted to slap this doctor straight in the chops with a nice full warm catheter bag. It was such an egregious and disgusting lie and I was absolutely livid. If fact I was strangely more upset than Watson was. I began to calm down, slowly.Read More »
No-one can say that that old gift called prostate cancer does not leave you with some choices. Unfortunately these are not the fine choices off a menu from an award winning restaurant but more like the menu choices from a North Korean prison camp. It is always a choice between worse and far worse.Read More »