Australian organ donation numbers on red alert again?

It is seventeen and a half years since the day I heard the words ‘your baby daughter will need a liver transplant.’ I had been watching her tiny tiny two month old jaundiced (yellow) body over the past few days endure two lumbar punctures and then a thoracentesis or pleural tap. This involves a doctor putting a needle in between human ribs and then into the lining of the lungs to extract unwanted fluid. In our case it happened to be blood, and by the way they drained 60mls from this precious creature’s lungs (her doctor was horrified.) Following this her tiny body had to endure an ERCP (endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography) which confirmed that this little darling had a severe blockage in her common bile duct (a vessel which drains bile from the gallbladder to the intestine) and was suffering from a condition called biliary atresia….a gradual blockage in her common bile duct. Actually I must correct that name as it was actually confirmed by the intensive care staff that in her case she had gone one step further and now had biliary stenosis, the duct had already blocked and the bile was heading backwards into the liver causing major damage and had now lead to a cirrhosis of the liver, scarring and non-functioning of the liver. She was haemorrhaging internally, due to her liver not processing vitamin K which is needed for blood clotting and hence the pleural tap was required to drain the blood from her lungs to enable her to breathe properly. What was going on? I just didn’t understand and at that time, nor did the medical team. She was only brand new, my first born and this just couldn’t be happening. Next came a Kasai operation, she was only two months old. The Kasai operation attempts to reconstruct the bile duct with a loop of intestine. In the Kasai procedure the small intestine is attached to the liver directly so that the bile may drain. This was not successful and transplantation was now our only option. Let me tell you it was the most traumatic time of my life and even though I am a nurse, it scared the hell out of me because I knew what was to come with transplantation. I knew our lives were going to become even more traumatic and unpredictable, if that was possible and it was.

It had been some years earlier whilst doing my nursing training here in Brisbane at the fabulous Mater Misericordiae Hospital, and one evening whilst watching the local news, there in front of me was one of the first paediatric liver transplants. It was a medical and media frenzy. It was incredible. I watched in amazement as the surgical team chatted to the media, one of whom was to later be my darling's doctor here at the marvellous Royal Children’s Hospital, the great and renowned Professor Russell Strong. This is the man who introduced the ‘Brisbane technique’ of liver transplantation and which is now utilised all over the world. Sadly, it was brought to our attention days later through the media again, that the child did not survive. How were those parents coping having been given this amazing sign of hope with an organ donation and now a tragedy in the loss of this precious child? I couldn’t even try to comprehend their anguish. Years on, who could have believed that it would be me in their shoes, though with a far more positive outcome.

So, after consultations with our hepatologist and then cardiologists, gastroenterologists, anaesthetists, radiologists, nutritionists and the list goes on, our only child was cleared and ready for the transplant list. We were informed we would only need to wait six months and she would have her new liver. How wrong they were. With pager in hand (this would alert us if we were non-contactable by phone, that the hospital were trying to get in contact with us and to ring them urgently should it ‘go off’) we lived nearly ten months of hell, watching this child’s condition slip away and eventually I made my feelings clear to the team. We couldn’t wait any longer, their six months was now nearly ten months without any sign of transplant and my child needed help urgently. A week or so later we received that call and after a nine hour operation our gorgeous girl was in recovery, then intensive care and broke the ‘then’ hospital record for a mere ten day stay in hospital post-transplant. It was a miracle. We were so relieved and so proud of her.

On our return home I was to ensure her fourteen different types of medication were administered to her correctly. She was quarantined for about three months due to her lowered immune system. This lowered immune system was medically controlled with very regular blood tests to confirm proper drug levels and thus prevent organ rejection. This left her prone to more infections than others with little resource to fight these infections and so quarantine ensured her ‘clean’ living for the time being.

Her recovery was like clockwork. She ticked every box at every check-up and still does some sixteen years later. Yes she is on medication for the rest of her life but only one; yes she endures blood tests on a regular basis to make sure her liver is working well and that the medication levels are correct; yes she must be alcohol free for life to ensure proper functioning of the liver and prevent any type of damage and yes we are so proud of this amazing and beautiful young woman who is now at university studying Justice and soon to be Laws; yes she is being a typical eighteen year old, challenging but beautiful, healthy and very very loved by all of us including her wonderful sister.

I am sitting here with tears rolling down my eyes as I remember these days as if it was yesterday and when I see on last night’s news that organ donation numbers are diminishing again, I ask why? Is it because everyone needs to have walked in my shoes for the last eighteen years and see what these families go through watching their loved ones suffer and then die because we are too lazy to think about the importance of organ donation and just register online? I thought human nature was better than that and I know it is. The website states 5 760 987 Australians have already beaten you to it; please make sure you are the next one.

To register your wish to be a donor, log on to the below link for Australian residents. If you have problems with this link please go to the Medicare website and register. https://www2.medicareaustralia.gov.au/pext/registerAodr/Pages/DonorRegistration.jsp

The hardest job in the world? You better believe it!

I have been a parent for just eighteen years now. My parents did a magnificent job parenting me and my siblings. Are they constantly watching over my shoulder, observing?  Yes I guess they are sometimes and that is OK because I have no doubt I will be doing the same to my girls. To date I think my parenting has gone pretty well. No, not perfectly but pretty well.

Legal advice states that from eighteen we are ‘off and running’ solo and gosh how hard this is to sit back and let go as a parent but I am doing the best I can. At the age of fifty you would think I should have a good idea of what is going on but often I don’t and I know I am not the only one out there feeling this way.  

I was raised in a nuclear family. However I am a parent of two in a blended family and the rules change a little in this scenario. Professionals state that in a blended family, the step-mum or step-dad should leave most of the parenting to the biological parent and this is fine to a degree. However there are certainly times when the experience of both need to come together and form a ‘united front.’

I had been a single mum for nearly eight years and it was very hard trying to be both mum and dad to my girls. I called on the parenting skills my parents utilised in our family and I think that what I learnt from them has been working, with a little tweeking too. Well, to get feedback along the lines of ‘your children are delightful’ and ‘gosh you must be so proud of your children’ and just the other day a friend said ‘they are good kids because you have taught them well’ says I must be doing something right. Does it apply all the time, absolutely not. We have fallouts like any other family, especially this thing called parenting eighteen year olds. It is a whole new world to me. I walk around on eggshells, feeling as guilty as hell, trying to right the wrongs in their lives and ‘Band-Aid’ the tears. Parenting! No wonder no one will pay us….they couldn’t afford us.

Is bad behaviour contagious? I think sometimes it can be if parents don't step up and draw those boundaries. I have been made aware of certain teens in a peer group and the attitude towards their parent/s, by a certain advisor. I was able to experience this attitude myself eventually and watched how a teen verbally ‘tore strips off’ her mother in my presence and didn’t even flinch whilst she did it. Clearly it was a regular occurrence. I looked at this teen in amazement and she knew when our eyes met that I was not at all impressed. I guess her going red-faced and dropping her head was the ‘give away’ that maybe she was ‘out of line.’ Honestly, the lashing was like ‘grease lightning’ and if I hadn’t seen and heard it I wouldn’t have believed it. Mum stood there and muttered a couple of words to her daughter but in my eyes it was far from adequate and I know my girlfriend standing next to me felt exactly as I did.

So why? Angry teens? A mum who won’t discipline? Time-poor parenting? Why is it that those of us who care enough about our children will stand up and be held accountable and ask for respect from them (and be so exhausted at the same time) and then other parents will do the complete opposite? I don’t get it. To witness the bad attitude and the lack of parenting horrified me and left me in amazement. When I had a ‘post mortem’ with my advisor on this subject sometime after, the reply to this experience was simply ‘I told you so.’ What gave me encouragement was that my advisor is a little bit older than the ‘guilty party’ and thank goodness can see right from wrong.

Is parenting the hardest job? You better believe it. I guess at once stage in my life I would have loved to be taking international or interstate flights to fulfil my career and drive around in that convertible and take numerous overseas holidays, have a zillion and one credit cards at my fingertips allowing me to buy the latest Givenchy or Chanel outfit whilst the nanny tended to my offspring. Who wouldn’t? Instead I have opted for less and have received much more. I am so proud of my girls. They make me feel like a zillion dollars without the credit cards. Does it bother me not to have those credit cards at my disposal? Not for a nanosecond. You see I can be with my children in public and have acquaintances chat to them and then mention to me how proud I must be of these fabulous young ladies and that is more valuable than all the credit cards in the world.

http://raisingchildren.net.au/

It would be selfish of me not to make you aware of this Australian website. For those parents needing a bit of extra guidance/insight, check it out.....I think it is great.

The times they are a-changin'

Most of you will already know from reading my various blogs that I am a Roman Catholic and very proud of it. I have attended schools of various Catholic religious orders such as the Sisters of St Joseph (St Mary MacKillop’s order), the Good Samaritans and The Sisters of Mercy (my nursing training hospital here in BrisVegas is run by these amazing women) and can I say I think they have done a pretty good job collectively.

My memories of these educators focus mostly on the St Joseph nuns who will now be affectionately and respectfully referred to as the Joeys’ in this blog and the Sisters of Mercy, referred to as the Mercy’s, again, with fervent respect and affection.

Saint Mary MacKillop, our first Australian saint, clearly held her religion and beliefs in high esteem and having been taught about her, having read much about her and having visited Mary MacKillop Place in North Sydney, where her body now rests in the Mary MacKillop Memorial Chapel, I hold this woman in extremely high esteem. I talk to this fabulous woman on a daily basis and will always admire her strength and intestinal fortitude all the days of my life. St Mary MacKillop was born (1842) of Scottish parents, in Victoria, Australia. Mary started the Sisters of St Joseph religious order and who was, for less than acceptable reasons in her later life, excommunicated from the Catholic Church by her Bishop who was clearly influenced by his priests. Mary was later reinstated as a Catholic by that dying Bishop.

Naturally at school I was not at all terribly fond of The Joeys as it was they who made me attend school and do homework. Now however, as an adult, I realise just how amazing these women were and are. To The Mercy’s, equally, I give as much respect as I reminisce and I do often, about this group of women and their wonderful founder, Catherine McAuley and their role at my nursing training hospital, the Mater Misericordiae Hospital here in Brisbane. Being a Mater girl, I was guided through my three years of training under their reign and now know how the Mater girls are held in such high esteem throughout the nursing community and gives me such pride to be called one of them. The fact that the Mercy’s hold in their hands so much commerce in this amazing city and indeed this country of ours is extremely commendable. They are clearly amazing financiers as well ad educators and more power to them I say. As well I am very proud to be privy to what the Mercy’s produce in their school education portfolio. I am associated with many of the amazing young ladies who have attended their school here in Brisbane and who have gone on to bigger and greater lives which fills my heart with this great pride and faith, knowing we are in good hands in the future. However it is the future of these amazing Josephite and Mercy women educators which concerns me.

In my eyes, to keep the fundamental beliefs of this wonderful religion alive and well, we clearly need to take some serious action as the numbers of those who enter these religious orders diminish, the census will confirm this fact. If the great man Himself was walking this earth, I am guessing that a meeting with Him (and I would make sure I was in attendance too) I would like the dialogue to be something like this:- “How are we doing in your eyes Jesus?” “Well I know you are all doing the best you can however I am watching the numbers of religious in our world and they are diminishing pretty quickly and I think we need to do something about this. Do you all agree?” “Absolutely.” I would then offer my opinion and say something like “Jesus, with respect, I would like to suggest that maybe due to these diminishing numbers carrying your word throughout the world, do you think it would be a good idea that the gentleman at The Vatican should be steering towards amending laws for priests and nuns to marry? (Cue various audible gasps by some present at the meeting.) I feel that there would be more interest in entering religious orders if marriage was an option. Of course, this would not appeal to all and those not interested can continue as is however those wishing to be involved as married religious should be permitted. Now I know that this idea has been suggested by one or two of your current religious order members and it ‘went down like a lead balloon’ but many of my single and married religious friends are in agreement with me. What do you think?” I am hoping his response would be something like "Lou, you have ‘hit the nail on the head,’ I am on my way to The Vatican to discuss this matter with them."

Seriously, I believe that this may be the way to go. ‘The Times they are a-Changin.’ My suggestion is based on not just the factual diminishing religious numbers but also the recent indiscretions of various Catholic priests which have appalled me, my loved ones and friends and family not to mention the Catholic Church and the public and I for one have always and will always believe that man was not meant to live alone.

It is Canon Law ruling priests and nuns unable to wed and I believe this law can be changed.  Look, Adam had Eve, deacons can be married so let’s move it one more step to priests and nuns, hey as I said it is optional but I think it might just work. Why shouldn’t our religious be allowed to marry if they wish? I am pretty sure religious numbers would soar and I for one wouldn’t mind stepping onto the pulpit during a Sunday mass and talk a little on life as a Christian. Yes, I would be very biased and would refer to my fabulous association with the Joeys and the Mercy’s regularly in my sermons and I know heaps of females who would not object to my ‘dissertations.’ Let’s face it, the strong and amazing Saint Mary MacKillop stood up for her beliefs and in a much much much smaller way I guess I am just doing the same. Excommunication for me?……I’d like to see them try!

To market to market.....made with love

I have been up for half an hour now, it’s Saturday morning 4.30am. Having waved my hubby goodbye, I now wait a little while allowing our youngest to sleep a couple more hours and then the two of us are off to join my hubby at my Saturday job……I have a handmade greeting card stall at one of our local markets. To say I enjoy my Saturday job would be a gross understatement…..let me make it clear to you all……I ABSOLUTELY LOVE GOING TO THE MARKET AND SELLING MY HANDMADE WARES! It’s absolutely true.

Let me take you back to where this love affair began. Hubby and I have always been ‘into’ buying our fruit and veg from the markets and have frequented many of them here in our fabulous city of Brisbane. I began protesting against the Big Two grocery chains due to the fact that media coverage was exposing the dubiousness of the freshness of their produce let alone the ridiculous prices they charge us all. Hence markets became the obvious choice and so the weekend consisted of a visit to the market for produce.

Along with these lovely weekend outings and it was about four years ago now, I had become pretty clever at making my own olive oil-based soaps. I went into this craft for the purpose of wanting to secure a soap that was going to be good for my family’s skin disorders. We have eczema, dermatitis and psoriasis in our family, certainly not bad cases of it I hasten to add. Regardless, I had been told by the medics over the years to ‘steer away from’ mass produced commercial soap and to use alternate products which I purchased in the local chemists. Sorbolene had been the recommended medical choice and is a fabulous product but in our hot summers, it felt like you were wearing a sheet of plastic on your skin at times and hence I wanted to find something more appropriate. After much and I mean MUCH researching and seeing the various soaps on offer at the markets and trying many of them, my research always pointed to olive oil soap though there was little of this type on offer so I found a recipe and off I went. Five years on, we haven’t looked back. Okay, I skipped a bit so let’s go back.

After about six months of positive results with my soap, my hubby and I decided to ‘get it out there’ and the markets seemed the obvious choice. By law we needed insurance to sell the soaps, packaging, labelling and it became a bit of a logistical nightmare. Regardless we went ahead with it, secured a stall at the market and enjoyed ourselves. The soaps became quite popular. However we were to be challenged by the ever increasing rent rates which seemed to be happening far too frequently for our liking and hence we ‘pulled the plug’ after looking at our books and realising we were not accomplishing our goal financially. By the way, hubby was and is gainfully employed so it wasn’t as if we were reliant on this product to survive. I, however, often dreamt that maybe one day we would be self-sufficient in our business. To date that hasn’t happened but wait there’s more..

Regardless, after a year or so of not holding a stall at the markets but continuing to support our local producers, I began researching stall availability. This time, it was my intent to sell my handmade greeting cards which I had been making off and on for years but had become a little more serious about them, giving them to family and friends and with the responses always so lovely and positive…..yes, the markets were calling me back!

So nearly a year on, we have been attending a market here in Brisbane each Saturday as a permanent stallholder. Hubby is absolutely marvellous and helps me tremendously by packing up his car with the trestle, boxes etc etc and leaves to be there in time to ‘clock in.’ I dutifully follow him, sometimes with child/ren in hand. We both ‘man’ the stall and have realised over time that hubby enjoys sitting under the sky as much as I do, in the fresh air and chatting to our customers and the passers-by and oh how it is good for the soul.

My cards have proven to be very popular. My aim was to create a card more attractive than you would purchase retail along with a handmade ‘feel’ about them, but also cheaper than retail too and I think I have achieved that. Leading up to Christmas we were selling 80-100 per Saturday, yep I am serious. I have many regular customers who give me so much positive feedback and I appreciate each and every comment. I am known interstate, well not me exactly but my cards, and I am known internationally, OK, again, not me but my cards. Yes, I work from home five days a week restocking, yes, I make them all by hand, yes, the work is extremely labour-intensive and yes they are all made with much love and buckets of it.

Oh well, it’s time to go and get ready for the day. The weather forecast is for a fine day which is great. What will the day bring? I have no idea but I know we will thoroughly enjoy it.

Let's have a chat and it'll be OK

I recall my nursing days where Psychology was a mandatory subject and as I stick my chest out now whilst typing away here, may I say I did extremely well in this subject (I wish I could say the same about some other subjects but hey we can’t all be good at everything right?) I found this subject fascinating. However I didn’t realise just how important this area of science really was back then and was to become today and to me. As a student it was simply a subject we were to utilise and apply to our patient’s situations as they confronted their illnesses and how to use psychology in being as supportive and understanding as possible. May I say that we also had qualified psychologists ‘on tap’ at the hospital and it was they who dealt with the ‘heavy’ stuff and I guess that is why I took a slightly laid-back attitude back then.  ‘Tis true, I loved to chat to my patients, and clearly still do love to chat and be supportive. There is no doubt in my mind that these amazingly helpful and interesting people have studied an area of human behavioural science with the intent to help others and, quite frankly, I take my hat off to them.

I have found it very interesting for years now, along with being a little sad too how some of the world still views psychologists, counsellors etc as people to fear. Well, they deal with ‘crazy’ people I hear some of you say, drug addicts and all of the really negative and bad situations in life. How wrong and toxic this attitude is. Why is it that there are a plethora of workplace psychologists now in existence? Is it that only ‘crazy’ people adorn the corridors of our workplaces? Absolutely not. There is clearly a legitimate need for these people or workplaces would not have the need for them.

It wasn’t until later in life I really came face to face myself with counsellor. For personal reasons I sought some advice when I was dealt a heavy blow and needed some help trying to find some answers to my many questions going through my mind. Friends and family were all too emotionally involved for me to really get to the ‘nitty gritty’ of my situation and give me unbiased opinions so I rang my GPs office. The lady kindly referred me to someone who was to become not only my helper but also a friend too. I had no hesitation in seeking out this lady and I guess I could thank my nursing training for my acceptance and my need to talk.

Dr V was a God-send to me. Not only was she a GP but also a counsellor and we ‘got along like a house on fire.’ Over a period of time she guided me through the realities of my life and gave me fabulous insight into my situation and ways to deal with the challenges that were to follow. I really looked forward to ‘dumping’ my woes on her lap each visit and remember walking out of her office each time feeling so much ‘lighter,’ content, happy and capable. My usually happy demeanour was constantly being attacked by an external source and I needed to regroup and get back to where I had been and knew I was heading there and in time all would be manageable. After my sessions with her and realising I had sufficient insight into my challenging situation, she asked if I would assist her with a research paper she was to present to her colleagues. I agreed with delight and then we parted ways as she moved to a new city.

 I met up with this wonderful lady socially not so long ago and thanked her for her assistance ‘way back when’ and she hugged me and assured me she enjoyed each visit too. Oh how sweet!

For years later I would talk much about this fabulous lady to friends and family, and some would shy away when I mentioned the word ‘counsellor’ or ‘psychologist’ whilst observing a little fear in their eyes. However I would also receive ‘secret’ phone calls from some, asking me the name and number of this lady as they had some things they would like to chat about or ‘had a friend’ who could use some guidance with a situation or two. Naturally I shared Dr Vs contact details with them with delight. Clearly I had helped open some eyes.

Some years later when, finding that this lovely lady had retired, I needed to find someone to do some more 'dumping,'  let’s say I needed a refresher course and 'tracked down' a very nice lady. I find it so reassuring knowing I can go to that neutral person who will listen to me, and offer some guidance in dealing with these situations and I can do nothing but praise these amazing people and the fantastic work they do.

The media and course consultants have made it clear that never has there been a more evident period in time when these wonderful human beings are in great demand. Schools now have on site psychologists.  Crises such as 9/11 and the Brisbane floods, the Victorian bushfires, the ever-increasing divorce rate and the affect it has on families have brought to fruition the need for human psychological assistance. I had even contemplated studying the subject as it fascinates me greatly.  I had bought the books and was about to enrol but decided against it.  I think it is one thing to have the gift for sitting and listening but to deal with the realities of some lives where children are affected by family issues or counselling people through the death of a loved one or dealing with criminals and their behaviour or toxic parenting etc. etc. is just too much for me to contemplate and hence I have left it to those who are very gifted in this area. I think I made a good choice.

The fear factor still very much exists with so many when it comes to the words psychologist and counsellor. I do feel however that this is also a generational problem and in time it will dissipate and it is doing so already. I understand that the fear comes from the thought of sitting in a room with a complete stranger and divulging your thoughts, fears and joys, needing to be open and honest with this person and I 'get' that. I, however, fear none of it and expose my 'warts and all' and it’s really OK. I have always liked chatting to anyone who would like to listen and I know people like chatting to me and that’s a good thing in my mind.

Ralph Lauren.....the designer and the gentleman

I have had one of those days, you know, when life has been so busy with so many things going on that you decide to take some ‘me’ time, some ‘time out’ and basically do nothing to try and rejuvenate mind, body and soul, albeit for just one afternoon.

While sitting and flicking through the TV channels, accompanied on the sofa by our West Highland Terrier, Gus, I was lucky enough to come across an interview by a well-known American lady and Mr Ralph Lauren, American fashion and home ware designer.

To say that I thoroughly enjoyed the interview is an understatement. So I will share some of what went on for that hour with you all.

Ralph Lauren (born Ralph Lifshitz, The Bronx, New York, 1939) is a gentleman and a very nice man. The interview took place at his ranch in Colorado and we were privy to various rooms of his house as well as the magnificent countryside surrounding, what he and his lovely wife Ricky claim is spiritual land. Having seen the wonderful filming of the countryside I can do nothing but agree.

Born to Russian-Jewish immigrants, his artist father painted houses. Ralph grew up in a middle class family who had little but the bare essentials. He attended the Camp Roosevelt (Monticello) where colleagues pronounced his clear talents when it came to colour and colour boards.

Ralph explained he commenced his world of creativity by making men’s ties and approached Bloomingdales (USA) and asked them if they would be interested in purchasing his creations. They communicated their interest in his fabulous ties and accepted the offer under the condition that they put their own Bloomingdale name to them. Ralph refused the offer and walked out. Six months later, Bloomingdales rang him and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse and that was the beginning of the beginning.

The father of three, two boys and a girl came across as an extremely caring and loving dad and a dedicated husband to his talented wife of forty-six years, Ricky. Their ranch in Colorado is magnificent including the homestead and guest areas, all adorned with Ralph Lauren Home wares. His sons, one a film producer, one working for Ralph Lauren and the daughter who has her own candy stores, all appeared as simply lovely adults.

What does Ralph Lauren wear? Yes, his own label but he has also been known to wear other labels, “I wear things I love” stated this talented and humble gentleman. What are you most proud of? “My family, my kids, my wife and the fact that I am still working.” Why a horse and polo player? Being a sports fan, he was more into basketball but he figured a basketball wasn’t international enough so he decided on the Polo player. What inspires you? “Team work, challenges, my wife and kids and the world around me.” What was your most serious purchase as your empire came to fruition? “My house, a car, sending my children to good schools and as I worked harder all of these things improved.” Ralph clearly stated that he wasn’t about fashion, he is about living and clearly this is when his home wares too came to fruition.

It hasn’t all been ‘lollipops and roses’ for this talented guru. He suffered a ‘benign brain tumour’ approximately half way through his now seventy-one years and to anyone who has experienced that frightening halt in what appears to be a healthy life, including me and mine, you can never take life for granted from that point and clearly he hasn’t.

To say I was impressed by this gentleman is an understatement. He sat surrounded by his family and it was very evident to me that these children respect and love their parents, are grateful for what they have been given and for what they have all achieved in life thus far and I could do nothing but feel the love that was emanating from that calm and spiritual room where they all sat, in that lovely ranch house in spectacular Colorado.

Lamborghini vs T-Model Ford

There has been much media coverage lately about the importance of men's health issues and indeed anyone who has lived with a male will know that most men, and I am not talking about all men, would rather put their heads in the sand than man-up and have an annual medical check-up.

Prostate cancer has come to the forefront when it comes to health concerns with the over forty-year-old men. I think it is fantastic how the medical world has seconded male celebrities to help spread the word through the media and of the seriousness of this killer disease and how, with early detection, this disease can be treated successfully.

The symptomatology of prostate cancer includes ‘waking frequently at night to urinate, sudden or urgent need to urinate, difficulty in starting to urinate, slow flow of urine and difficulty in stopping, discomfort when urinating, painful ejaculation, blood in the urine or semen, decrease in libido (sex urge) and reduced ability to get an erection’ (Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia website.)

The detection of prostatic cancer is usually achieved by a simple PSA (prostate-specific antigen) blood test. This is a protein produced by the prostate gland and found in the serum of men however it is elevated in cases of disease. Sometimes DRE (digital rectal examination) is undertaken by the doctor to detect enlargement of the prostate gland.

I recall in my nursing days, having my ‘stint’ in the male surgical ward and may I add that this was my favourite ward during my three years of training. Why? Because men seem to walk this earth with a mental attitude that hospitals are meant for extremely ill or dying people (ridiculous but true) and therefore you must get in and get out in the fastest possible time, a bit like being in the grand prix. It’s this ‘get the hell out of there’ and get home attitude that drives them to have an extremely short time in hospital and hey it seems to work for them in my opinion.

Many a day would TURP procedures be carried out in theatre on our male patients from this male surgical ward (transurethral resection of the prostate - the fancy medical name for the surgical removal of part of an enlarged prostate which has been blocking the flow of urine from the bladder.) My patient’s would return from surgery with a variety of fluid bags poised high on their steel stands five feet up. These would be ensuring they were receiving enough intravenous fluids compensating for their lack of oral fluid intake for the time being whilst being Nil By Mouth post-operatively and some bags would be helping flush out the bladder via a catheter (tube) which, I must admit, looked a little horrifying for those seeing this myriad of bag and tubes for the first time.

These ‘men of steel’ would want to show us that there was nothing wrong with them and seem to want to prove their manhood far too early in our nursing opinions. It was like being on holiday in the ward, ‘let me help you out of bed Mr Smith as it is only a few hours since your surgery” to which Mr Smith would reply, as he gingerly makes his way to the edge of the bed, looking pale and dizzy, determined to do it all solo “no thanks love, I’ve got it all under control.” Yes, I would stop and wait for the inevitable “oh, I feel a little odd” verbalised from ‘the terminator’ as he swayed on his feet and collapsing back onto his bed, finally asking for something to lean on……which would be me! Yep, it would happen just like clockwork and I would admire each one of them for their determination.

Recovery for these male procedures is pretty fast…. of course it is, it involves men in hospital wanting to ‘get the hell out of there.’ So with all the treatments out there to help our wonderful men, personally, I would opt for the regular check-ups and a PSA blood test for early detection if I was a guy.

Regardless, as much as I loved nursing this wonderful species of manhood, I really wish men would be more confident when it comes to being tested for medical conditions common to their sex. By having these tests and having you ‘sorted’ earlier in life instead of behaving like Neanderthal man with club in hand, searching for the next beast to kill and drag home to woman is so yesterday guys! Come on, prevention is better than cure, you know it, I know it. Let’s keep you looking like Lamborghini’s instead of you turning into old T-model Ford’s before your time just because you don’t like medical tests!