Low life | 3 May 2018

‘Slight prick,’ she said. The nurses all say that before they slide the needle in the upstanding vein in the crook of my outstretched arm. The phrase must be in the training manual. The best nurses are professional and business-like as they prod the vein with a forefinger, then push the needle in. It’s nothing personal. However, this one was amateurish, lacking in confidence, and all too human. Puncturing a vein in my arm appeared to be a bigger deal for her than it was for me. A peculiar intimacy fell between us as the needle went in and travelled a little way up the vein. ‘How did you guess?’ I said.

I give a blood sample quarterly. The hospital then tests the sample for prostate-specific antigens. The resulting score is sent to the oncologist. She and I both hope for a consistently low score. If the score shoots up suddenly, it could mean the cancer is awake again and another bout of treatment is on the cards.