Hi,  Gordon Turnbull and Sandy Thomson on committee duties but myself and  Andy Goodwin , Tam Scobbie, Alex Muir, Jim Wilson , Archie  Mackay Jnr ,Keith Plenderleith,Alastair Mackay,James Fisher,David Rankine and son Connor,Drew Wilson, Michael Empson, Kevin Brown and Mark Goodwin are going to  cycle from Drymen  in the west visiting each and every Masonic Lodge in the province of stirlingshire ,raising money for Prostate Scotland , a worthy charity close to our hearts , the run will be over 2 days covering a total of 100 miles .We will be met at each Lodge and photographed and hope that each will support us on the day, we are holding several charity fundraising evenings which we will promote when confirmed at a later date , but are looking for potential sponsors which will be displayed on our shirts , any donation will be gladly accepted and we appreciate the support we have already received .Our transport for the charity ride is provided by Ross  Hardie and Stewart Jeffray and son Stewart of Lodge Dolphin,also Tam Ballingham and David Farqhuar (photographer)and Cheryl Horne Wilson make up our motley crew , and is very much appreciated , any offers of help will be greatfully accepted along with your support for such a terrific charity .

here is a wee bit about My Story in the early days. This was written for a specific website so the start may seem a little odd :-)

OK, hard to beat some of these crackers but here is a more modern tale. I alluded to it last year some time but never went into details I don’t think. As mentioned before, I am now working in Nigeria and have been here for about 9 or ten years now. Managing Camps of up to 6,500 people. Big change from looking after 25 on a tanker J Anyway, last February, my assistant manager phoned me up from UK to tell me he had just been diagnosed with bowel cancer. Gutted for him. Could not ask for a nicer guy and a better assistant. Anyway, I get home, drive down to Yorkshire to see him and he is looking pretty grim, lost lots of weight etc etc, just waiting to go through chemo and stuff. I went home after the weekend, had an appointment with my GP as all my vaccinations were due. “Any other problems GT?” he asks. “My gout was playing up again” says I. “Never even knew you had gout” says he. “Well only second time I have had it and never bothered you after first time as the doc on site fixed it.” “OK anything else?” “Not peeing right” says me, “up two or three, sometimes more every night dependent upon Guinness intake.” “So, what makes you bring that up?” he asks. So I tell him about my mate and my QA/QC manager (an American diagnosed with prostate cancer) and how I had looked it up on t’internet and realised there was an outside chance it could be cancer as well. “OK” says he, “you do know what the test is don’t you?” “Unfortunately I do Kenny yes, however I had been hoping there was a new non-invasive method discovered in the last couple of weeks” was my hopeful reply. “Not a chance, up on couch, trousers down, knees to chest” After a good digital rectal probing he tells me I definitely have a problem. Lots of MRI scans, bone scans CT scans etc later it was obviously confirmed.
The Big C. only someone who has had the doctor tell them they have cancer will understand exactly what it feels like to be told. I thought I was gutted when my Mum died, even more gutted when my Dad followed less than a year later. I thought I could not feel worse than what I did when I was on Iolair attending the Piper Alpha disaster. We arrived there about 02.00, cannot remember what time the explosion was and not going to look it up. I was night chef and had pans of soup ready for all the survivors we were going to pull out the water. That never happened, did it? All of them pale into insignificance when told. Bear in mind, I had never had so much as a doctor’s line in my life of 54 years so to be told you are so seriously ill when you don’t feel ill is to put it bluntly, a kick in the baws. What they did not tell me until after I had done loads of different scans was that because my PSA level was so high (474 against a normal <5) they suspected it was all through my body, but could find no trace apart from a little on my groin bone. Anyway, things of note. I had to go for a biopsy obviously. Guy was a dickhead. Thick nasal Kelvinside accent (posh Glaswegian). So, there is me, up on the gurney yet again, ass hanging over the side, knees to my chest. Jeez, 28 years in catering in the MN and nobody had been up there. That month I reckon I had a dozen hands up my jaxi. I even went to the dentist and dropped my trousers before I realised what I was doing!!! Anyway, back to the biopsy. “The first thing you will feel will be finger entering your anus” he says in that despicable accent. “Aye, awright, carry on.” “ Next you will feel the probe. It is steel and a bit thicker so it might be cold”. Alright up to this stage. “Now, Mr Turnbull, you may feel a little prick”. “I better f’n not pal” says me. The nurse laughed, he didn’t. Anyway, he had told me he was going to do 13 biopsies but after 3 he said, and I quote “no point taking anymore, it is obvious you have cancer”. So, he shows me the prostate on the screen and points out the cancer to me. Me, still not thinking right asked him when I would be able to go back to work (conscientious me!!!). “Work” he said,”I think you should forget your quantity of life and concentrate on the quality now.” I quite honestly could have curled up and died there and then.
Next visit was to the prostate cancer specialist nurse who explained things to me. What a darling. What she did not know was that I already knew she had been through nursing college (many moons ago) with my elder sister. So, after all the crap from the prober, she tells me I am not going to die because of it. Now, OK that is a bit of a relief so a wee bit of happiness. “Starting you on hormone pills GT” she says “these will bring your PSA level down to a range where we can start using slow release implants.” OK, now we are getting somewhere thinks me. “Now there are side effects” she says. “Tell me”. “OK, you might grow breasts, your weight will drop to your waist (too late there darling, see Guinness intake earlier), you will have mood swings and be over emotional”. “Wait a minute hen, most men I know aspire to be like their fathers, you are telling me I am turning into my wife!!!” At least that solicited a laugh from her and the missus. “Anyway” I said, “what makes a lovely person like you go through college and then decide to dedicate their life to sticking their fingers up a man’s ass?” “I love it. Nothing better than coming in on a Monday morning, getting gloved and lubed up, getting the finger up there and thinking whoopee, we have a big one here!!” I told her she was sick and needed treatment. “Oh, another thing, your sex drive will drop dramatically, but don’t worry as you won’t be able to get an erection anyway!!” Bitch J.
So, couple of weeks later, the pills have done their work so time to go over to the implants. Now I am not particularly fond of needles but this thing is huge! I go to see the nurse at my local GP. She tells me she hates giving this injection because it usually so sore! Tells me she has one old guy she literally has to scrape off the ceiling everytime he gets it. Not helping bitch!!!! Three months later, PSA fallen to around 1.9 I managed to get back to work in Naija land. December 2010 I had to get the fiduciary seeding done. Not pleasant, bloody sore and won’t go into details. Look it up if you want.
Home in February and started 8 weeks radiotherapy the day after I got home. This was my first mistake. Having done 56 x 12 hour shifts in a row, I should have had a break, but us Stirling men are hard. The Beatson West of Scotland Cancer Centre in Glasgow. What can I say except absolutely superb service. Eleven radiotherapy machines doing about 50-55 people a day. From the second day the receptionist called you by your first name and knew where you were going. Girls doing the radiotherapy? An absolute joy and must be totally fed up looking at wrinkled old men’s parts. They tell you what the side effects are going to be. Sore butt. Possible double incontinence. Hair loss of the nether regions. Tiredness. Tiredness was easy, I just went to bed for a couple of hours in the afternoon. Hair loss of the nether regions I found amusing. Chest hair, under arm hair, gone. Pubic hair? Imagine Friar Tuck’s head and that was my goolies. Lovely. Incontinence, nothing worse than walking through the shopping centre or the supermarket telling the missus you better go to the loo then in the next breath telling her it was too late! Thankfully never too bad. What it did show though was exactly what old age is gonna be like! Don’t know if I want to go thereJ. Sore ass? Damn that was bad. Radiation burns on the cheeks and an extremely sore butt hole. Such was the case that a child’s rubber swim ring was bought and went everywhere with me. Walking through shopping centres and supermarkets carrying a rubber ring having dribbled pee probably did not look pretty!!! Thankfully I don’t recall meeting anyone who knew me when I was in this state although plenty when I had just the ring with me. Also nothing worse than having been to the loo having to get the missus to put cream on your botty because you cannot see where the radiation burns are. “Lorraine, I need bummed” was the usual cry. Self embarrassment rapidly disappears.
Bottom line is this. This was not written, obviously by the tone, to elicit sympathy. It is to reiterate that even in the direst of circumstances we can find humour and something to laugh about. Is that our merchant navy upbringing at work here? Who knows? Maybe it is a personal thing but when I read the above posts, maybe it isn’t. All is now well, I had my follow up and PSA level is at a good level. I am back at work in Nigeria and the Camp is bloody disaster area, but I am working through it gradually without stressing myself. The future is bright and further tests will I am sure reinforce that. Friends and family, especially obviously the missus had a lot to put up with, probably a lot more than me. I just elicited the sympathy vote with them all the time J
To conclude, 99% of people our age will have problems with peeing. A percentage of them obviously have cancer. It only takes a minute to get probed. Get checked guys. If one person is diagnosed with prostate cancer and caught before it becomes a huge issue, then everything has been worthwhile. If you are one of the growing numbers of unlucky ones to have cancer, try and find the positives. We talk about luck in life. I have always considered myself a very lucky person whether in my private life or in work. Even in this cancer I consider myself lucky. My deputy manager is still not back at work and probably never will be. The sights you see in the Beatson on a daily basis show how much worse it could have been. Thank God for what you have and stay lucky throughout life. Ain’t nothing gonna put you down if you are positive. Ain’t nothing beats good luck.
As an aside, the golf never got much better!!!