Today, we have a General Election vote, and whilst, of course, I did my civic duty and voted, I had far more important things to concern myself with..
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed my remaining bollock was starting to increase in size. Having had one eaten by cancer, I phoned the Doctor IMMEDIATELY. No pissing around. I secured an appointment the following day, had a barrage of blood tests, and a referral for an ultrasound.
It took a little over a week for an appointment with the hospital, which is where I have been today. So, from the time of discovery, to the results, I've had an anxious, but exceptionally prompt 10 day wait. God, I fucking LOVE our NHS! I am proud and privileged to have worked for it as a nurse, and am extraordinarily grateful to it, and to the dedicated, loyal and woefully underpaid staff who saved my life.
The ultrasound and blood tests are conclusive. I DO NOT HAVE CANCER! It has NOT returned, thank goodness. The nut had some residual fluid, which they believe may have been as the result of a minor infection, and does seem to be slowly returning to its normal size.
I've told no-one, as I didn't want to burden parents, family and close friends with the worry. It's been quite enough worrying about myself, without worrying about them worrying about me! That's a shitload of worry going on there, and to quote Sweet Brown, "ain't nobody got time for that"!
Testicular cancer should be a concern for EVERY male, of any age. We should all be checking our tackle on a regular basis, and doing something about it when we do find irregularities. The first time, I lost a bollock, and, as regular readers know, dodged any adjuvant treatment due to the prompt discovery of the tumours, and the orchidectomy. This time, my mind is simply put to rest.
In the vast majority of testicular anomalies, post examination, swellings, lumps, bulbs and irregularities turn out to be nothing to worry about. And getting them checked out usually eliminates any worry. Occasionally, some of us are unlucky and our worst fears are realised. Prompt intervention means a near 99% chance of a full recovery, and, as with my cancer two years ago, no chemotherapy or radiotherapy.
Today has been a good day. I cast a vote, and more importantly, for me, at least, I also cast off my worries. I have a slightly swollen bollock. And that's fine. Because I DON'T HAVE BLOODY CANCER!
Make today a good day for yourself. Check your balls, or, for female readers, your breasts. A two minute fiddle, and, if necessary, a few minutes of mild embarrassment at a Doctors (not that one should be embarrassed about looking after your health). That's all it takes to put your mind at rest.
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