When I was just eight years old in 1958, my grandfather, Walter Jones, was admitted to Beckett Hospital in Barnsley. The atmosphere within the family became filled with fear and gloom, although nobody explicitly told me about the seriousness of his condition. During his time at the hospital, I missed him dearly, but I wasn’t allowed to visit due to restrictions on little girls entering men’s wards. The only glimpse I got of him was when my father lifted me up to the window so I could wave at him and feel reassured that he survived the operation and would soon come back home. With stealthy listening to hushed conversations, I discovered that my grandfather had trouble with his prostate, but the surgery went well and a full recovery was expected. Although the word “cancer” was never mentioned, I understood that it was a possibility.
During my teenage years, I learned about the male-specific prostate gland and its role in nourishing and transporting sperm. It was then that I realized my grandfather had prostate cancer, which was fortunately diagnosed early by a young oncologist. He lived until his early 80s, which brought immense relief to me. However, unlike cancers affecting women, prostate cancer has not been openly discussed or given the same amount of attention.
In my generation of second-wave feminists, we refuse to be coy about these matters. We demand that diseases affecting our lives, such as breast and cervical cancer, receive the attention they deserve. Through screening, early detection and treatment become possible. The increase in women gaining political power during my youth helped prioritize these concerns. Health Secretaries such as Barbara Castle, Virginia Bottomley, and Patricia Hewitt fought for public spending despite arguments that preventive measures such as mammograms or cervical smears were too costly.
Amidst all these efforts, why hasn’t there been a screening program for men’s health? How many unnecessary deaths have occurred as a result? Women have always had fear and apprehension when going for tests, fearing not only death but also the impact on their bodies. Yet, this fear hasn’t deterred women from seeking treatment. It’s embarrassing and damaging to have a flat chest, but it beats the alternative of physical perfect six feet under. I speak from personal experience.
For a long time, I’ve wondered if men’s fear of losing their sexual potency has hindered scientific research and campaigns for prostate cancer. Thousands of beloved grandfathers, fathers, brothers, and sons have been lost due to this fear. That’s why it’s commendable that this newspaper has launched a campaign to “End Needless Prostate Deaths.” One in eight men will develop prostate cancer in later years, and early diagnosis is crucial to reducing mortality rates in the UK. The recent discovery that MRI scans are twice as effective as the traditional blood test proves that we don’t need to wait another decade for a national screening program to be implemented. All we need is strong campaigning, less concern about the effects of treatment on erections, and supportive politicians to make this screening happen now.
Speaking of supportive individuals, it’s worth noting that Professor Caroline Moore led the MRI trials. It seems a woman needed to lead the way to get the job done.
As for Pamela Anderson, who still looks stunning in her 50s, I have to say that mowing a lawn in stilettos is a risky endeavor. Good luck with that!
I must say that I’m glad there will be a dialect course launched in Keighley to preserve the rich language of Yorkshire. I’ll always remember standing in front of my grandparents’ mirror, doing my hair and hearing them say, “Stop fussing with yourself. You look beautiful enough!”
Lastly, I apologize for my absence over the past couple of weeks. I wasn’t on vacation, but rather, I was in the hospital. I finally heeded advice to take my foot injury seriously. My cat, Suu, knocked a heavy glass ashtray onto it, causing severe bruising. I initially ignored it, but it became infected. That’s when an orthopaedic surgeon warned me about the risk of a deep hematoma infection that could lead to sepsis and possible amputation. Lesson learned. It’s important to take symptoms seriously and not ignore them.
And why, oh why, has Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” been excluded from their new Greatest Hits Collection? As a proud “Fat Bottomed Girl” myself, I’ve always found the song rather flattering. I’m tired of the word “fat” being removed from popular culture, whether it’s songs or books. Let’s accept things as they are.
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