My precious man has a terminal illness: prostate cancer which has advanced to the lymph nodes. He is well othrwise and works every day. He remains cheerful where I could never. He may feel hopeful, but I feel hopeless.
We all die sometime, and I well may go before him, but if so, I have the comfort of not knowing it is imminent. He doesn't. This is the most upsetting part, at least for me.
The diagnosis of PC was made more than a year ago. However, the treatment took four months to initiate, in which time the cancer spread out of the prostate. For this wait, I am angry. Angry with the doctors, angry with myself for not insisting treatment begin sooner, and angry with my God.
Glynn chose Brachytherapy. Implantation of radioactive seeds into the prostate. The dosage is focused and does little harm to surrounding tissues. (At the same time it does little harm to cancer which has spread out of the capsule.)
So thats where we stand, and its from this perspective that I share my thoughts on living with dying.
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