I took my dad to to the urologist yesterday to find out why his PSA level is so high, and he screamed like I've never heard a dude scream before.
When we were done and waiting for the cab, Dad said: "He stuck a finger up my ass. It reminds me of the Army. Every once in awhile, they stick a finger up your ass. Every once in awhile."
Dad's PSA level is 87, and his doctor says they're not going to do a biopsy, since the only possible explanation is prostate cancer. So Dad has to go for a bone scan and a CAT scan to see whether it has spread, and, if so, how far.
Despite this diagnosis coming so close on the heels of mom's death, I'm not too worried. Dad's tough, and prostate cancer is slow. Plus, the treatment is merely pills and an injection once every four months, so we won't be putting him through chemo.
Still, I kind of wish every major medical consultation didn't end with "You have cancer."