So my lovely wife says to me the other day "this blog should be about the "whole" experience ...if you are hoping it will help other guys facing the same struggle". I readily agreed, as any good husband would, and went on watching the news. But the comment kept resonating. Was I telling the "whole" story or just the parts I wanted to tell. There's a big difference there. Like any good story telling, some parts of an event are just too personal. I think " I would rather not share that part", but...those are the issues, in this situation, that scare us the most...the ones nobody wants to talk about. Not out loud anyway, just those interior type of conversations that mostly serve to rob us of our sleep and sense of peace. After some reflection and review of the events I decided to do what any husband of thirty years would do...take full credit for my wife's idea...and back up a bit and fill in the gaps in my story. Think "Star Wars" episode I...the prequel. I felt I had jumped right in at episode IV, so as any respectable revisionist would do, I am going to back up and tell this story from the beginning as factually as I can. At least so others will be able to relate their stories to mine in a complete manner. For me, this should offset any of the confusion and angst I felt when I was first diagnosed and started to "overlay" my situation with those, a few of whom I've mentioned before, who lost this battle with cancer. Every situation is different. I will repeat this as often as I can because it is very important to keep in the forefront of our thoughts. All struggles require HOPE as a key ingredient for success and this knowledge feeds us as we move forward. So...here I go.
My father contracted prostate cancer at the age of 71, almost sixteen years ago. While I do remember him telling me that it was caught early, other than that I don't remember any other details such as his Gleason score or tumor stage. I traveled to Oak Harbor to see him the day after he came home from the hospital, laid on the bed with him as he recovered, and just talked...mostly me listening and him talking, and then returned home a few days later. He spoke of the procedure only peripherally and then ordinary life took over. He was like that. Every time he experienced a traumatic event in his life he dealt with it, in his unique way, and moved on quickly. That's not to say he forgot about it, that never happened, but he did put things in a place that allowed him to start looking forward instead of backwards. His cancer never returned and he passed away, peacefully in his sleep, a few years ago at the age of eighty four. Oh...the questions I would have for him now.
Because of his advice and experience I began having my PSA checked every year at our local health fair. For a "benchmark" he would say. For over ten years it never changed. After the occasional DRE my family doctor would always comment that I had the prostate of a twenty year old. Now that's something to brag about. Realistically, I never gave any of this much thought, after all, prostate issues are only of concern to "old men", right?. So last year I did my health fair testing and everything stayed the status quo. Cholesterol was a bit high, blood sugar was elevated, but all in all, nothing alarming. Except... in retrospect, my PSA had doubled. I had gone from a nondescript 1.8 to a 4. Still below the "take notice" threshold of 5, but red flag worthy in it's gain. I didn't have a physical last year to review any of this because I didn't want to pay the money and was without health insurance that may have paid for the visit. Another casualty of this recent economy. So my general health was not addressed until this year when I went to have my "annual" physical and a colonoscopy, which was my first. My backside has received more attention than it ever has. Nowadays, whenever I meet a new doctor in this process, I find myself checking out the size of their hands and praying they aren't old NFL lineman with hands like a catchers mitt. I want them to have hands like a woman and the handshake of a two year old. Just saying....
So my primary care doctor looks at my PSA "jump", does a DRE (digital rectal examination), and orders another blood test that looks at "free" PSA in the blood a little closer. Soon after he calls me and says he wants me to consult with a urologist and the appointment is made. A couple weeks later I see the urologist, who does his own "thorough" DRE and orders a biopsy to be done. A few weeks after that the biopsies were performed, 12 samples in all, and the wait was on. Throughout all this, my preoccupation was with an out-of-town project I was working on, and frankly, my focus was not on my immediate health. Looking back now I should have picked up on certain subtle hints that I should be concerned, but my doctors kept following their protocols and I assumed that's all they were...protocols. If I had an awareness of what I didn't know, I would have sped these processes up. As it was, these events spanned a period of time from May 2012 to almost Labor Day. The next thing I know I get a phone call, two days later, from the urologist's office staff, on August 30th, saying "the results from your biopsies are back and they show cancer. When would you like to do your follow-up visit with Dr. ---------?". Follow-Up? "He has time the week after next". I should note here that this doctors office was 65 miles away, often a fact of life living in a rural town in the middle of the Rocky Mtns. My brain was on the verge of exploding here. "A week and a half?" I repeated. "Yes, does that work for you? she asked. "I don't know" I said...thinking "will I still be alive?". "Is it okay for me to go that long. How urgent is it?" I countered. " Oh, I don't know that information...can you make it down here at 8am tomorrow ? Dr. ------- could meet with you before the weekend ". Make it down ? At that moment, I could have been "down" to his office in five minutes or less. Needless to say I scheduled that "follow-up" and hung up the phone. My next, almost "catatonic" act was to leave my wife a voicemail message on her phone that said " Call me when you can. You might want to take tomorrow off ". We met at his office, received a brief explanation of the cancer results, i.e. the Gleason score &Whitmore-Jewett cancer stage explanation, and was given a surgeon's overview of available options for my type of cancer...surgery. In an instant the rest of my life was reduced to a blur of percentages. "With this or that treatment option, and at your age...you would have this percentage of living x number of years"...or "this has been done but with mixed results"... "The long term survival data is not available on this treatment yet" "Here are the possible side affects" And the clincher "It will be ten years before we could declare you free of disease". I now know exactly how the deer feel in oncoming traffic. My name and the word "survival" had never been used in the same sentence before. Unless we were talking about the outcome of certain outdoor adventures we've had. I also felt acutely aware of the 800 lb gorilla in the room...the imminent weekend plans I was delaying by scheduling my "follow-up" that morning...confirmed, in my mind, by the casual clothing and the fact that I called back twenty minutes after I left the office and was told that the doctor was gone for the weekend. This is a bit unfair of me, I know, because it is his "business" and my "illness". Sheila and I ran errands the rest of the day, speaking only of the "logistics" and more practical elements of the events ahead of us. We rotated tires, topped off our oil, shopped for who knows what and returned home. Over the weekend we discussed money, the kids, treatment options, more money, cancer ... Tuesday I called and scheduled my surgery. "How does October 2 work for you? she said. " I don't know ... I was hoping you all would have an opinion on that". "What does Dr. ------- think?" I asked. " Well, he just told me get it on the schedule as soon as it could be done. Does that date work for you? As I am fond of saying...I replied "Either it will or it won't" which caught her off guard. I didn't intend for it to be rude, but translated it meant..."yeah it works if I'm still alive by then". Still alive by then...one month away. Instantly my thoughts drifted to Dan Fogelberg and Frank Zappa. Prostate cancer killed them. Should I even bother with surgery was my next thought. Slowly, over the next few days, my intense internet research coupled with discussions I had with anyone I could network with, my high school "drama queen-ness" dissipated and I returned to reality. Now the FIGHT WAS ON. I know some will identify with this progression of events and others will encounter a different sort of medical experience, but my point is this...each diagnosis is different in that each (prostate) cancer is different. Prostate cancer is complicated. Take responsibility for your own health. Pay attention to your body and educate yourself. It can be done by reading (thank God for the Kindle), internet (which is voluminous), and networking with others in your life who have been through it. They are everywhere. Two hundred fifteen thousand every year. You're bound to know some of them, directly or indirectly. Talk to them. They will be a huge source of knowledge, wisdom, and comfort. So this is the background to my previous blogs and hopefully fill in any voids in the rest of my story. LOVE TO ALL...MA
No comments:
Post a Comment