The World I Fell Into* (an introduction)

• Hello.  I’d like to introduce myself as Robert Penny**, aged 61, white, male.  I live in a care home in England.  All other residents are over 75, but I get on well with them.  I enjoy interacting with my carers, and there is much banter (when I came to the care home in April 2018, I made it clear that I welcomed banter).  Even though it can be hard at times, even grim, there is also fun & laughter in the home, perhaps confounding my expectations.  However, I don’t want to give the wrong impression; the staff are very caring, extremely hard-working & highly professional.  
  

• So, how did I end up in a care home at my relatively young age?  In November 2017, I was looking to the future, having retired a month earlier.  I had worked - in both private & public sectors - for almost 40 years (I left the private sector to work in the caring public sector …).   I was keen to relax & make a fresh start.  
  

• I can play guitar (averagely), but always wanted to play keyboard.  I also wanted to speak a new foreign language e.g. Italian, Polish.  I did acquire a few Polish words from a carer who left Poland for the UK; these were, arm, leg, left, right.  This enabled me to form the following word combinations; left arm, right arm, left leg, right leg, and octopus (don’t ask).   
  

• I also wanted a dog to walk.  I like animals – here’s a photo of me with a cat on my lap, if you don’t believe me.  I had a ginger & white tom cat (Reg) who was my pride & joy.  More later.

• I’ve had mental health problems (a.k.a.  mental illness – but MHPs sounds more P.C.) all my life, even in childhood (although I didn’t realise it at the time).  The problems were anxiety & depression, both caused largely by the Obsessive Thought Patterns (good name for a band).  More later.   
  
• In contrast, my physical health has been good.    However, in November 2017, I was suffering from back & leg problems.  After walking 10 yards, I had to stop because I was in agony.  The pain only lessened if I bent forwards & rested for a minute.  I also couldn’t sleep.  I normally slept on my side, but this was now too uncomfortable.   Only one position let me remain pain-free, & relax sufficiently to fall asleep – lying on my back with knees bent & soles of my feet flat on the bed.  
  
• I’d not yet been formal diagnosed.  I saw an osteopath, then a physiotherapist.  Both tried, unsuccessfully, to diagnose & treat me & reduce my pain.   Eventually, both recommended an MRI scan.  However, people find the procedure claustrophobic.  I wasn’t claustrophobic, but I simply couldn’t lie still in the MRI scanner for 60 seconds, let alone the 30 minutes needed for a full scan.  The pain was unbearable.  I tried, unsuccessfully, on 5 occasions to have the MRI scan.  By now, I felt deep despair, was in great pain, & couldn’t see a way forward.

• Then, without warning, MRI scans became irrelevant.  One day my back gave way.  I’d been struggling to stand on my right leg anyway, but now both legs gave way & I collapsed. I was at the top of the stairs, sitting on my posterior.  I tried to stand, but couldn’t.  I should have had the sense to use my i-phone to call for help.  Instead, I decided I wanted to watch football on the TV & make a sandwich.  I descended the stairs on my bottom.  It took a long time but I did it.  Somehow, I managed to sit on a chair & watched the TV & considered my next move.  
  
• Even though I was still in pain, & needed help, my stomach told me it wanted food.  So, I edged towards the kitchen, crab-like, sitting on the chair & sliding across the floor.  Progress was slow.  Reluctantly, I abandoned the idea of food.  In truth, I needed water, as I was dehydrated.  I decided to do the reverse journey.  
  
• Going up the stairs backwards was much harder than going down sitting forwards.  Eventually, I got back to my bedroom.  A few months earlier I’d have worried I might have sat on Reg, asleep on one of the steps.  I’d have been inconsolable if I had caused him injury.  I like animals – here’s a photo of me with a goat on my lap, if you don’t believe me. 
  

• However, I didn’t need to worry about Reg as ‘fortunately’ he had passed away a few months earlier.  
  
• My memory of what happened next is hazy.   I remember talking to my friend & neighbour, explaining what had happened.  She rang emergency services & paramedics arrived.  I was taken to hospital by ambulance & admitted, via A&E, to the spinal unit.  After a series of checks (I may even have finally been given the elusive MRI scan), I was told by a consultant that I had got metastatic prostate cancer.  I had had a Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) test.  PSA is a protein produced by The Prostatic Epithelium (another good name for a band).  I didn’t know I had a Prostatic Epithelium and was quite happy to remain in blissful ignorance of such a fact.  I was supposed to have a PSA level of between 1-4 ng/ml (‘ng’ is a really good 2-letter word to use in scrabble).  My PSA level was 4000!  (even 3999 would have been better).  
• The cancer cells had spread to my spine and done irreparable damage.  For the rest of my life, I would be paralysed from the top of my rib cage all the way down to the soles of my feet.  Fortunately, I have apparently retained my dry sense of humour.  I can still make people laugh; sometimes due to a deliberate witticism, other times to my inadvertent acts of sheer stupidity, which fortunately have their funny side.
• I spent several months in hospital - more later - but eventually, I had to consider my options.  Ideally, I wanted to live independently, but this was not possible – at least not in the near future.  So, after doing The Cost Benefit Analysis (not a good name for a band), I decided to check out the local care home …..       

*   With acknowledgement to Melanie Reid and her book The World I Fell Out Of’ which helped   inspire me to start writing this blog.

**   I’m writing under a nom de plume; Robert is my middle name, Penny is the first name of my sister who died in infancy.