Previous, March 2019-April 2021. Back to start, December 2013
I've been seeing my oncologist every six weeks (mostly via tele-health) and my PSA has continued to be low, but follow an exponential growth pattern: 0.5, 0.55, 0.72, 1.11. I've not changed medication but on my latest visit it was decided another scan was warranted. It's possible there is a small tumour that is responsible for the PSA rise and can be treated with radiation. I'll know more next month. The prospect of the next stage of treatment is confronting but I'm assured there are many more options available and I have lived with generally excellent health over eight years since being diagnosed - far longer than expected at the time.
I had intended to write blog entries to chart all my health news in a timely fashion but I guess I have been a little depressed over the last six months. Melbourne had it's fifth lockdown, soon followed by it's sixth, making it the most locked down city in the world. Vaccines for Covid eventually became widely available and now over 90% of Australians over the age of 15 have been vaccinated. There is still a small but vocal group of anti-vaccination people, including ex-friends of ours, and some people are reluctant for a variety of reasons (some of them questionable). For me there was never any question of whether to get vaccinated - it is clearly the right thing to do in order to minimize the suffering caused by this virus. It was also in my interest - before vaccines became available the death rate due to Covid for those with cancer was one in thirty.
Unfortunately, I didn't tolerate the vaccines well. They caused a resurgence of my CFS/ME. After each vaccination (I've had three so far) it has taken around a month to fully recover. The first two were particularly hard work. The way to get over fatigue, in my experience, is exercise. You have to force your body to exercise even when it screams for rest, but too much exercise makes things worse. After many decades of practice I think I am reasonably good, though not perfect, at this balancing act. The figure below shows the times and estimated average power for riding laps near my home on June 22nd. At first it was my slowest lap ever and around a quarter of my best power output for that loop, despite pushing my body hard. As the ride progressed my body performed better and my power output doubled. The next day it was better still.
With fatigue and lockdowns it has been a challenge maintaining my health and fitness. To avoid bouts of more severe depression during lockdowns I found I needed to ride around 30km every day but long rides were impossible so my fitness gradually declined. With higher vaccination rates, and the difficulty containing the Delta variant of Covid, and now the Omicron variant, restrictions have eased and we are told there will be no more lockdowns. I'm not entirely confident in this assertion. Over the course of this pandemic, many millions of people have been told by their political leaders (particularly from the conservative end of politics) there will be no (more) lockdowns, only to be locked down when case numbers surge and the health system looks likely to be overwhelmed. My family has remained Covid-free, though there have been a couple of times when one of us has isolated due to possible exposure, including on Christmas day. We have been quite conservative with taking advantage of eased restrictions. I regained some fitness, mostly with solo rides, and ticked off my annual 300km ride (with a friend again this year). It was more of a struggle than I had hoped - I think I had not fully recovered from my third vaccination. Otherwise my health is pretty good and my specialist GP was happy to make our appointments yearly instead of every six months.
At the end of last month I had a PET scan and saw my oncologist the next day. I also had PSA test results - up significantly again to 1.79, so the cancer is definitely actively growing at a rather alarming rate. However, the PET scan results were as good as we could have hoped for. It showed just a single tumour, in the prostate - see the photo below (the scan shows up several organs such as kidneys, bladder and salivary glands; the tumour is the small spot at the bottom, just below the bladder).
Seeing the PET scan (and the jump in PSA) made me feel that death was closer, but I also felt a bit relieved as well. Sometimes if you can see "the enemy" it is easier to deal with than the unknown - it gives the illusion of more control at least. My oncologist was encouraged by the PET scan. There are no doubt plenty of cancer cells still spread around my body but for the most part, they are being controlled by my medication and lack of testosterone. There is only one place where they are growing in a uncontrolled way. The hope is the tumour can be killed off in some way, turning back the clock somewhat in the progression of the disease. If such a tumour had been discovered in me ten years or more ago, before the cancer had spread, it would definitely have been treated. Had it been found five years ago, it is doubtful it would have been treated since it was known the cancer had spread and just killing off a bit of it in an area that doesn't cause significant damage can do more harm than good. However, because I have survived over eight years in generally good health and most of the cancer is well controlled, treating the tumour may well be worth the harm/risk. My oncologist said he would discuss my case with other experts and refer me to a relatively young and not so conservative radiation oncologist who may be convinced that radiotherapy to kill the tumour is worthwhile. I have a tele-health appointment tomorrow.
I feel very lucky to have access to such expert medical care. I'm one of the "haves", both in terms of having cancer but also wealth and access to excellent medicine. I'm amazed by how much science and technology is behind my care. In the basement of the Peter Mac. Cancer Center there is a cyclotron, which accelerates charged particles to around half the speed of light. These smash atoms apart to produce a radioactive isotope of Florine, which is separated and combined with another carefully constructed chemical than binds strongly to another chemical found on the cell membrane of prostate cancer cells. I was injected with this radioactive chemical. It seemed slightly incongruous that it was delivered to my room in a somewhat stained brass-covered lead container that would not look out of place in the laboratory of an alchemist from hundreds of years ago (the lead stops most of the radiation and the brass prevents lead poisoning). After waiting for the chemical to circulate through my body and bind to prostate cancer cells, I was put in the PET scan machine. Inside my body, the Florine atoms were decaying - protons in the nucleus were turning into neutrons plus positrons (the anti-matter equivalent of electrons) - the alchemists were not that far off after all! The positrons soon bump into an electron (they have opposite charges and are thus attracted to each other) but matter and anti-matter don't mix. Both particles are annihilated and two gamma ray photons shoot off at the speed of light in opposite directions (yes, my body was giving off gamma rays because anti-matter was being created within it). The gamma rays are detected by the PET scan machine and complicated computer algorithms are used to create a 3D image of the body showing where the radioactive Florine has concentrated. Pretty amazing stuff!
My partner and I had an online chat with the radiation oncologist this morning. There were a bunch of questions about my history (including correcting an error in the records for when I had my orchiectomy - a good thing I maintain this blog), symptoms and checking for things for which radiotherapy could pose an extra risk. The oncologists had discussed my case (it seems like I'm a bit of a local legend as far as defying the odds) and there was a consensus that radiotherapy was a good option. As I mentioned in the previous post, this is orthodox for early stages of prostate cancer but in my case the oncologist described it as "off-piste". Few people survive metastatic prostate cancer as well as I have so there is no data about the risks versus benefits of this treatment for someone in my position. Two options were mentioned. One involved inserting gold targets into the tumour then having a relatively short but intense series of radiation treatments. The other (preferred) option was twenty less intense radiation treatments (five days per week for four weeks) - rather more than I expected. The overall dose was discussed by the oncologists and a compromise between killing off the tumour and side-effects was made. A higher dose would normally be used to make sure no cancer survives but in my case there is cancer elsewhere so total destruction of the tumour is less important. Side-effects include tiredness and irritation of the bladder and bowel (lasting for a few weeks) plus there is a risk of scar tissue forming blockages and ongoing problems. During treatment I would be put on a "low residue" diet to minimise bowel contents and allow the tumour to be targeted with less bowel damage. It is rather scary and I do have some dread of each new step along the path but I said to go ahead. I am hopeful the treatment will go smoothly and turn the clock back a bit with the progression of the disease while maintaining the existing armoury of treatment options. So, in around a week I will be measured up, the radiation oncologist will design the course of treatment and a couple of weeks later I'll start the radiotherapy.
My course of radiotherapy went reasonably smoothly. It was slightly stressful due to the requirement that my bowels should be as empty as possible but my bladder should be full, but not too full. Five days a week I would jump on my bike, ride to the hospital, check in, change into a gown and when called in I would be positioned on the machine (on my first "measure up" visit I was given four small tattoos so I could be lined up accurately) and the zapping would commence (assuming bowel and bladder constraints were met). In the best case I would be back home within an hour. Living close to a good cancer hospital has benefits. I was rather concerned about side-effects. I pushed myself to ride a bit more before the treatment. Towards the end I didn't feel great, there were a few urgent trips to the toilet, there were a few days I was extra tired and I'm still getting up to urinate during the night with slightly annoying frequency. However, I still managed a 100km ride every week.
I had a phone consultation with the radiation oncologist soon after treatment to check on side-effects and a week or so ago we had a face to face meeting (around six weeks after the treatment). Just before the treatment I had another PSA test - it had risen significantly again, to 2.43. Since treatment it has fallen to 0.37. Around a year ago I had the same PSA reading. It was rather a shock and signalled the start of the distressing rise. This time it should continue to head in the other direction because the peak effectiveness of radiotherapy can be a year or even more after treatment, as the damaged DNA of the cancer cells leads to further cell death. My radiation oncologist mentioned the possibility that my PSA could drop low enough that I may be able to stop taking my current medication. He then backtracked a bit, saying we should not get ahead of ourselved and we should take things one step at a time. I took it as a very positive sign anyway. At least the oncologists seem very happy and hopeful about my medium term prospects whereas a year ago they were apologetic. I've also been feeling a bit more healthy recently. Its possibly just in my head (though my mental health is still a bit fragile) but I was told the tumour was around the size of a golf ball and given that it was also growing rapidly it may have affected my general health noticibly. Overall, I'm very happy to have had the radiotherapy and am hopeful it will extend my life significantly.
I can't finish this blog entry without mentioning two other things - one negative and one positive. The first is the brutal invasion of the Ukraine by Putin's Russia. The expectation of many was it would be a quick war, with the might of the Russian military. However, with over three months of fighting, bombardments etc the Russian gains are modest but the suffering is immense. Civilians have been targeted, cluster bombs used and mines left by retreating Russian soldiers (both cluster bombs and mines are illegal under international law). The West, including Australia, have provided military and humanitarian support but avoided direct intervention. It is hard to know whats best to do to avoid and react to such behaviour. I feel rather powerless, though I have donated more to MSF. The positive note is the outcome of the recent Australian federal election. The Liberal Party, leaders of the government for almost a decade, have had a resounding defeat. I have little but contempt for several of their senior members, including the ex-Prime Minister. Years of federal government inaction of climate change (and most other things for that matter) should now come to an end. For the first time I donated money to help an election campaign - Climate 200 raised money to help independent candidates campaign against conservatives in several key contests. They were remarkably successful, though the ideal outcome where MPs who support strong climate action held the balance of power has not been achieved. Still, I welcome the change in government.
It was September 29th when I saw yet another oncologist and received the news that my PSA hadn't continued to fall as predicted, but had significantly risen again, to 0.68. I felt slightly angry and have delayed writing another blog entry until now, another sign that I had trouble processing the news. Beneath the anger was surely fear, but it is a reminder that managing expectations is important, for both giving and receiving information. Prior to this result I felt I had a reprieve and was more relaxed about my medium term prospects, letting my guard down. I think many people don't handle fear well. It's tough confronting the thing that we are really afraid of and we often find ways of avoiding it (such as denial) or redirecting the fear. I think for many, the fear of COVID paradoxically morphed into a fear of vaccines and a whole other world of conspiracies. The echo chambers of social media and innate tribalism bring such people together (and separate them from people such as myself), and some seek to manipulate or take advantage of this (politicians, for example). There is certainly ample anger displayed by those who have opposed public health measures. The emotion beneath the surface is surely fear. Fortunately, the state election held recently showed how small this noisy minority is. The opposition and media pushed the narrative that our (now re-elected) Premier was divisive but although there certainly was division, it was caused by COVID and how people reacted to it. But the noisy minority has had some influence it seems. There are no mask mandates except for limited health care settings, so people who are immuno-compromised are very restricted in what they can safely do. I've not caught public transport or gone to a movie since early this year and rarely catch up with friends. While many people have returned to a life rather like it was before COVID and the term "post-pandemic" is popular, many of us with dysfunctional immune systems would prefer more restrictions.
At least with voluntary assisted dying, the fear of a "bad" death is reduced. My friend Nia Sims, who I met through VAD around five years ago, also passed away through VAD. I was not particularly close to her but she impressed me with her strength, honesty and caring. The conversations I had when I visited her were very special. Another friend of hers produced this very moving (and confronting) pod-cast. Another friend of mine, a former Ph.D. student, also tragically passed away due to complications following surgery for colon cancer. He had a great mind, was a keen cyclist and believed in trying to make the world a better place.
It has been a pretty hard winter and spring for me. The cold, wet weather started early and I didn't do much riding. There have been bouts of depression and fatigue. I delayed getting my fourth COVID immunisation but eventually relented. Bad side-effects from COVID vaccinations for people who suffer from CFS/ME seem to have more recognition in New Zealand, where medical advice is to take antihistamines with the vaccination. Unfortunately it didn't appear to help me. It took a month to get over the worst of the fatigue and it was just under two months before I had a day with a glimmer of energy - something that is still sadly rare. I'm sure that the fatigue contributes to my depression (and depression also reduces energy levels), but I have also had a couple of episodes of anxiety - most unpleasant. Getting my fitness back to a good level has been very hard work. At times, riding laps around a local circuit has brought me to tears, forcing my body to work when it's screaming it doesn't want to - my own special torture but it seems to work. At other times I've ridden all day battling against the constant weight of fatigue. When I first started road cycling I remember people would ask if it was for my health and the answer was no - I was riding primarily for pleasure but with health benefits as a bonus. Nowadays, a lot of my riding is primarily for health and fitness.
I have my fitness back though, and do have times when I really enjoy the riding. A couple of weeks ago I did my annual 300+km ride, up two hills familiar to Melbourne cyclists: Arthur's Seat (a significant ride to the south) and Kinglake (a significant ride to the north). On a clear day you can just see one from the other in the far distance (see the photo below, taken on the ride). My most enjoyable (and also very tough) recent ride was a couple of days ago with a friend from Tasmania who I hadn't seen since before COVID hit. It was a loop that included Kinglake, Mt. Donna Buang and Mt. Dandenong.
Next week I see the oncologist again. I fear my PSA will continue to double at a similar rate to last year, but at least the radiotherapy seems to have given me another year of life. I feel I should say more in this blog entry: about the recent awful floods (though personally, the wet cooler weather makes some things easier), about my ever-loving and supportive partner, about my daughter (currently studying overseas), about the state of the world. But I just want to get it over and done with, to relieve the pressure I put on myself. I hope to add the latest PSA result in a few days. Fingers crossed!
At least I was more prepared for a bad result this time, though it was even worse than expected - 1.61. I'm pretty sure thats the worst percentage increase I've had. I don't feel too bad about it, though perhaps it will hit me soon (I just got the result this afternoon). The PSA decrease after radiotherapy was better than the oncologists expected, but the subsequent increase has been worse. I'm stopping my daily bicalutamide tablet, after over three and a half years. It may actually be making things worse (I feel that is quite likely) and my PSA may go down for a while - it drops by 50% or more in 15-30% of cases. It may be that codon 741 in the gene for the androgen receptor in some of my prostate cancer cells has mutated (a single base pair in the whole genome) and that makes the difference between bicalutamide hindering or helping the cancer. I'm also getting another PSMA PET scan early next year. My oncologist was a bit concerned there might be a long wait for a requested scan. I was assured that I was just offered the first available appointment and that the supporting note from an additional oncologist plus the mention of the fundraising I have done for Peter Mac (my name will appear on the fundraising honour board) didn't result in me jumping the queue ahead of more needy patients. Onwards, with hope...
I wasn't expecting to write another blog entry so soon. I had a bone density scan (a significant drop for my left hip but a good result for my spine and overall nothing to be too worried about) but stopping bicalutamide seems to have resulted in other health changes. With the bad PSA result, continuing cool wet weather and not much cycling I expected I would have another bout of depression but I didn't. In fact, I felt much better. I did get rather tired and sleepy, but it didn't feel the same as my CFS/ME fatigue. I think my body has been adjusting to being drug-free and I'm sure the bicalutamide was having significant psychological side-effects that I was not aware of. After I started taking it I noted "feeling less confident and more fearful" and believe my recent poor mental health (depression and a couple of episodes of anxiety) has been, in part, due to bicalutamide. Yesterday morning, for the first time in ages, I got up around 5am to meet with my fast friends on their regular Mordialloc ride. I was sure I would not be able to keep up with them riding at 40+kph for the 20km back to St. Kilda, but with the help of a few well-timed red lights I finished with the front bunch. I was able to put out a good amount of power for short bursts, something I haven't felt able to do for quite a while. I'm hopeful that recent fatigue is partly due to the bicalutamide and perhaps even the activity of the cancer, and that feeling better physically is a positive sign that the cancer will be less active for a while without bicalutamide. Whatever the future brings, it's nice to feel a bit more happy with life. I even wrote a song on a recent solo ride, when I had the tune of Oh Christmas Tree stuck in my brain - it amused my oncologist at least (cosudex is the brand name of the bicalutamide tablets I was taking):
Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. It was three years and almost four but now I'm glad you're out the door. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. My lips embraced you every day. You may want more but there's no way. My enemy is now your friend so our relationship must end. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. My daily bicalutamide you are no longer on my side. You used to fight but now just play. As evidence: my PSA. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. The cells divide and they evolve a problem we are yet to solve. There may have been a mutation in codon seven forty one. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. You did some good but, no offence, you really sapped my confidence. I didn't know it at the time - I blamed it on COVID one nine. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex. The pain I feel seems far away. It's so much less than yesterday. Oh cosudex, Oh cosudex, I loved you once. Now you're my ex.
From worse to much worse still: my PSA has jumped to 11.4 and the scan showed multiple tumours in lymph nodes and bone. Rather nasty to say the least. Maybe the bicalutamide was actually still doing some good after all. I've been prescribed enzalutamide, a significantly stronger hormonal treatment. The side-effects are also stronger, fatigue being the main one. I've been put on half the normal dose for now. My cancer has generally been quite sensitive to hormonal treatments, so a half dose might be effective and it should reduce the side-effects. I'm hoping any fatigue doesn't impact too much on my ability to cycle, my mental health and general quality of life.
I have been stressing about this appointment more than usual and suspected the results of the scan would not been good. But the PSA rise comes as a shock. I was hoping it might have even decreased due to bicalutamide withdrawal. I've been physically in good shape recently, even riding with my fast friends again a bit and keeping up with some of them at least. Several of us spent a few days in Adelaide for the Tour Downunder - great riding and great vegan lunches at the market (I had been missing the freshly made dessert tofu since I was last there, three years ago).
Before this latest result and new medication, I signed up again for the Peter Mac fund-raising ride. I chose to ride 500km over 10 days, which didn't seem like much of a challenge, but it might end up harder than I expected. Please donate via https://my.ridetofightcancer.org.au/lee-naish for research into treatments and cures for cancer - your help will be greatly appreciated by many.
I saw my oncologist yesterday afternoon and he was happy to announce my PSA had fallen to 1.5 - so happy he fetched the more senior oncologist who was the first to see me over nine years ago. His cheery presence is always a delight. Before the appointment I was stressed and exhausted but being told of the drop in PSA and knowing the oncologists were pleased with the result and not contemplating an increase in the dose was a great relief.
The afternoon of day one of taking enzalutamide I could feel my energy slowly drain away and fatigue take over. I felt slightly better after some bed rest but the thought of continually suffering from significant fatigue filled me with dread. The next morning I did a 30km ride and felt better in the afternoon. On day three I felt worse and actually slept a bit in the afternoon. On day four I decided to see how I would cope with a longer ride. Initially I felt some fatigue but I was fortunate enough to find a few cyclists I could draft behind and the pace gradually increased up to the 50km mark, when my fatigue had evaporated. I kept going for another 50km then had a tail wind for most of the return trip - 200+km all up at 30+kph, a good speed for me, and I felt fine the next day. I've done other hard rides since, including a long hilly ride with some of my fast friends and have maintained my fitness but it's been hard work.
Most days I've I've either done a long ride or done a bit over 10km in the morning to help reduce fatigue. On days when I've not been able to do that, the fatigue typically creeps in during the afternoon and lasts until the next day, making riding tough. Yesterday morning was a good example. Before lunch and the oncologist appointment I did a hilly 100km ride, typical of the many rides I do but it felt super hard because I was fatigued, having missing my morning ride the day before. Today I tried an extra short hard ride but that didn't prevent fatigue later, so I'll keep experimenting with starategies. I'm hoping I can remain on top of things and managing the fatigue becomes easier. Fortunately the fatigue doesn't feel as unpleasant as the fatigue that comes with CFS/ME and so far I've felt better after sleeping (sometimes with CFS/ME I feel worse, which is not uncommon) and there has been no "pay back" fatigue from overdoing things. My daughter is now back from overseas, though has been isolating from us the last few days in case she recently picked up COVID (there are minimal restrictions or precautions nowadays) and soon we will return to the new normal, whatever that may be like. Fingers crossed.
Yesterday I was told my PSA had dropped to less than 0.1 - the lowest it has been since the early days of treatment! I needed something to cheer me up. I've been rather depressed recently. On my most recent attempt at a reasonably flat 200km ride I turned back after 75km. My body could have gone on but I just felt absolutely awful. The fatigue comes and goes a bit - maybe it has settled down somewhat but winter has hit. I also had a nasty bike accident soon after my previous blog entry. It was close to home and caused by a combination of speed, poorly designed road infrastructure and fatigue (I had going out to try to get over some fatigue). I had concussion, a couple of cuts on my face that required quite a few stitches, lots of abrasions and some dental damage but no broken bones. Fortunately there was an ambulance close by and I had a night at the local hospital. At one point in the evening I decided I wanted to sit up and have my back rubbed by my partner. My body had other ideas - my already low heart rate suddenly dropped further, the nurse hit the panic button and suddenly there were doctors and nurses everywhere and I was rushed to the resuscitation room. Some time in the middle of the night I was given another scan but in the morning I was discharged. Recovery was rather slow, with lots of bruising, a large haematoma on my hip (I fashioned a compression strap out of an old bike tube to help but a little still remains) and some abrasions blistering after six weeks and refusing to heal until I used antibiotic ointment (I noticed later that by blood tests show a low neutrophil count, which may be partly to blame for my body not being great at fighting infections). My fitness has dropped and I've not been doing my regular push ups and chin ups (maybe its then end for them, though I've thought that several times before) but I'm still in pretty good shape.
I feel I should have something more profound to say, ten years after diagnosis, but I don't have the inspiration currently. My last two PSA readings have remained the same - almost undetectable. The enzalutamide is expensive (close to $100 per day for the half dose I'm on) but it certainly does the job. I decided to take anti-depressants over winter. They helped with my mood but not my energy levels, and made be feel rather groggy each morning. I managed to regain a fair bit of fitness despite the fatigue coming and going and started to wean myself off the anti-depressants in October. In early November my fitness was pretty good and after taking a few days off riding due to lack of energy and poor weather there was a day with a forecast of light winds, no rain and pleasant temperature. I took the opportunity to have my first day without anti-depressants and tick off my annual 300km ride - a tour of the Mornington Peninsula without any major climbs (see pic below from Pt. Nepean, almost 200km in). The wind turned out worse than expected and I probably should have had an earlier coffee stop (caffeine seems to help with the fatigue related to enzalutamide) but I made it home before the sun set.
I had several (much needed) rest days before my next 100+km ride and felt quite energetic on a 50 km ride a couple of days later, having had some coffee before the ride. However, since then I've been struck down with awful fatigue. I tried my usual strategy of rest then exercise but to no avail. Eventually, I saw my GP who ordered the typical blood tests. I expected it to be a total waste of time, as it nearly always is, but it showed I had low vitamin B12 levels so yesterday my GP prescribed a B12 injection. Unfortunately there is a world-wide shortage of one of the ingredients so after considerable stuffing around I've started taking a B12 spray. I've lost a lot of fitness again and some mornings I wondered how I ever managed to ride 100km, let alone 300km. However, I felt slightly more awake last night, so hopefully the B12 will do the trick and I'll be back to solid rides again soon.
A few months ago I found out via social media that yet another cyclist friend of mine, Sadie, had COVID. It was a little unusual in two ways. First, although I strongly believe that letting people know you have COVID is the right thing to do (it lets close contacts know they have an increased risk, raises awareness, etc.) it is something many people shy away from. Second, she was prescribed anti-viral medication. I wondered why a relatively young, super fit and apparently healthy woman would be given this medication, normally reserved for those who are immunocompromised, elderly or suffering from various health conditions. Some months previously she had attempted to break a cycling world record (amount of climbing in 24 hours) and only abandoned after her digestive system refused to handle the very large quantities of carbohydrates needed to fuel such a challenge. I was concerned but didn't want to pry - I had done some great riding with with her and chatted casually but she was not a close friend.
After some time I found out the horrible news - Sadie has breast cancer with very widespread metastices and a life expectancy of just a handful of years. Even being forewarned due to the anti-virals, it came as an awful shock. There are many parallels between breast and prostate cancer, including bone metastices and treatment by drugs such Zoladex (which I was on for a while from late 2015) to stop the production of sex hormones (just as testosterone helps prostate cancers grow, oestrogen does the same for most breast cancers). Sadie is passionate about trying to reduce the number of people who end up in a similar position. She is currently in training to have another crack at that world record while she still can, and also raising awareness to get more early detection of breast cancer and raising funds for the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre, where we are both receiving treatment. I'll be helping out where I can, including matching donations from tomorrow morning. Please donate via http://upstagembc.com
Note: I have copied my web pages to a new location and the old ones may be deleted or not updated. My latest blog entry can now be found at https://lee-naish.github.io/pc/latest.html#latest or http://tinyurl.com/lee-blog
If this upsets you (and you are in Australia) you can call Lifeline on 131114.