When I got the news, my reflex was to blog about it. I couldn't because our son was away on a summer college programme and we didn't want him to learn about this on Twitter. He came home this weekend and we told the kids. Then I blogged:
I have cancer, prostate cancer.
When the doctor told me, he said that if you're going to get it, this is the one to get. It made me feel as if I'd just got an upgrade on Cancer Air. It was caught very early, found in only 5% of one of 12 samples gathered by shooting a harpoon gun into me (where, you don't want to know). So I am lucky.
I'm reminded of a brainstorming session I went to with Tony Hendra, the comedy writer, toward the end of the 80s, when he was leading the collaborative writing of a book called The 90s: A Look Back. I was invited to a session where we speculated about the near future of medicine and Tony riffed about what it would be like once they found a pill to cure cancer. "Got a spot of cancer today?" he said. "No problem. Take Tumorout. You'll feel as good as new. Go ahead. Light up that cigarette. Won't hurt a bit." I was disappointed that his cancer gag didn't make it into the book. I'm also disappointed that they didn't invent Tumorout.
Why am I even telling you about this? As I wrote in What Would Google Do?, I gained tremendous benefit sharing another ailment – heart arrhythmia – on my blog. And so I have no doubt that by sharing this, I will get useful advice and warm support (and maybe a few weeks' respite from trolls). I argue for the benefits of the public life. So I'd better live it.
If I had any doubt about radical transparency, they were dispelled in seconds as hundreds of tweets and blog comments – almost troll-free – poured in, granting good wishes, advice, and jokes (from Guardian colleague Charles Arthur: "Psychologist: 'Have you ever had a prostate check?' Tony Soprano: 'Listen, I don't even let people wag their finger in my face'").
My blog is known for nothing so much as a feud I had with a computer company over a laptop. So I found my punchline to the condition there: I'm opting for robotic surgery – geek that I am, how could I not? My only fear is that they'll wheel me into the operating room and I'll see that the machine is powered by Dell.
After I wrote that, a Dell PR guy saw the post and left a comment promising good service.
I've always been a cancerphobe; can't imagine much worse than that creeping invasion. Yet I've surprised myself, staying calm in the face of realising my fears, probably because I know it could be worse and, well, it is what it is.
Finally, I'll keep you informed on my blog as I find notes of interest while progressing toward surgery in mid-September and through recovery. Fear not, I'm not going to start writing a disease journal: I don't expect you to be consumed with my problems when others have theirs, far worse. Or perhaps you should fear, for instead, I will keep on writing about media wonkishness: about the rise of the next media and the fall of the last. Except now, I'll be in a worse mood •
Jeff Jarvis blogs at buzzmachine.com
