Oops

"You have prostate cancer," the urologist just told me by phone. Biopsy, et cetera: seven on the Gleason scale of six to ten.

"Oh, shit," is my first reaction, and then, "Well, I can get through this."

And I can, although I was surprised by the diagnosis. When my doctor first told me in December that my PSA, although not exceptionally high, had been consistently creeping up over the past two years, making an appointment with the urologist was more a way of assuaging his and BFF's concern than any alarm on my part.

So...we'll see what this brings, but I'm not too worried. Yet.