Dr B. speaks good english, but his opening line needs some attention. He explained that prostate cancer is common, most men get it, not many die of it, and there is an option to do nothing. He then adds "but end of life care in France is really good".
That is sobering, and I think at that moment all the air went out of the room. I felt sick. Really like I was going to throw up and pass out.
It's then time for the finger up the bum routine. I'm taken into a side room, told to drop them and bend over a bed. I have to admit it wasn't nice, but nor was it painful or embarrassing.
We're told that my prostate is enlarged, but there are no modules in there. It might just be an infection, but the only way to know is if I have a biopsy. It sounds like that it's my choice, so I ask if we can think about it.
We make an appointment for two weeks time, and leave. It's a sombre mood on the way home, and I'm having problems dealing with it all.
I need to talk to people.
It would have been my mother's 89th birthday today. I'm not sure how - or if - I could have told her that.
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