Day 20 - Forms

Steamrolled.  That’s a good word to describe me right now.

Last night was another with me staring at the clock from about 3:15 AM on.  Of course, the first thing that pops into my head is questions that I need to be asking the surgeons.  Good thing I keep a pen and pad on the nightstand.

The rest of the day went pretty well, but when I got home, I was drained of energy and had a headache the size of Montana.  After a quick dinner, I crawled into bed for about 45 minutes, being careful to just relax and not fall completely asleep.  If I did, I’d be up at 2 AM tonight.

I did contact the insurance company to make sure that I’m covered to see both surgeons, and I am.  That was a good thing to hear.

I also spent half an hour filling out forms for the surgeon’s office in Cincinnati.  Interestingly, the papers are identical to the ones that I completed for the biopsy procedure (both doctors operate out of the same office).  Hello left hand.  Meet right hand.  I’m supposed to get another pile of paperwork from the second surgeon in the mail.  Yippee.

Last night, I took a serious look at the instructions for the colonoscopy on Monday.  There are some serious dietary restraints for the last few days before the procedure, including no solid food for 24 hours before the procedure.  Ugh.  If you think I’m a grump now…. Steer clear on Sunday!!

So I’m out of energy for tonight.

Day 19 - Reality Check

Monday.  Back to reality.

And I’m not talking the reality of being at work after being off for four days. I’m talking the anxious thoughts of cancer came flooding back this morning for some reason.  Most centered around this whole ordeal of selecting the guy who’s going to poke holes in my pelvic region, root around for the bad ol’ prostate, snip it out of me, and sew everything back together, hopefully, with no leaks or no spare parts left over.  “Hmmm… Where does this go??”

I feel like Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade: “Choose wisely.”  Pick the right chalice, and I live happily ever after; pick the wrong one, and I’m condemned to a hell of peeing in my diapers and never getting a woody again.  (Sorry, at some point the conversation had to go down that path—it’s part of my reality.)

A bit dramatic?  Perhaps.  But that’s the way my mind is operating at the moment.

I know that I need to do this, and I know the chances of the hellish outcome are quite small, and most important, I know that having the surgery will give me the best chance of long term survival, so all of this should be a no-brainer.

I guess part of this anxiety may be realizing that selecting a surgeon and scheduling a surgery date takes this whole adventure one step closer to the very real.  But, as a coworker pointed out at lunch today, it also takes me one step closer to being cancer-free.  I have to keep that perspective in mind and let it be the driving force of my thoughts.

She understands, as she’s a cancer survivor herself.

It was really helpful to talk with her today and she helped bring me back to thinking more positively and more logically about the entire thing.

Even amidst all my angst this morning, I did manage to call the second surgeon in Indianapolis and was able to schedule an appointment to see him (Monday, 13 December).  Now, I just need to get all of my records sent up to him before then.  Somehow, I have a feeling that that won’t be the easiest of tasks.

So the forecast for the next two weeks includes a wintry mix of distraction, emotion, and anticipation.  What’s next:

Monday, 6 December – Colonoscopy
Thursday, 9 December – Cincinnati Surgeon Appointment
Monday, 13 December – Indianapolis Surgeon Appointment
Tuesday, 14 December – Toss executive decision making aid (Heads = Cincinnati; Tails = Indianapolis)

Day 18 - Nothing

Yep.  That’s it.  I got nothing.

That’s the kind of day it was.  Read a book on photography in the morning, played with the photos from Thanksgiving, shopped a little in the afternoon, and relaxed in the evening.

That was my excitement for the day.

Oh.  And we've exceeded 500 views on this blog.  Amazing.  Most are from the U.S.; 8 views from France; 3 from Germany; 1 from Denmark; and 1 from Russia.  I can explain the 8 from France and 1 from Denmark (traveling coworker) and the 3 from Germany (relatives), but the one from Russia has me stumped.  An errant mouse click, perhaps?

Day 17 - Lost Opportunity

“It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon…”

Those of you who listen to humorist Garrison Keillor’s two hour live radio variety show on NPR every Saturday night are familiar with this famous tag line of his.  It’s a show that a college buddy introduced me to in the late 1970’s, and, when I remember, will tune in on Saturday nights as I’m doing things around the house.

This week’s episode was broadcast from Cincinnati’s Music Hall, and I had completely forgotten about it being here this weekend.  To me, seeing one of his shows in person would be one of those “bucket list” kind of events.  Another would have been seeing Harry Carey lead the Cubs’ bleacher bums in “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” during the 7th inning stretch at Wrigley Field.  But Harry Carey is long gone, and Garrison—like all of us—is advancing in years and has a finite number of performances left in him. 

Having cancer does—as cliché as it seems—force you to reexamine your priorities.  Granted, I fully plan on beating this and living long after the demon cancer is gone, but it’s also time that I start living a little more, doing the things that I’ve been reluctant to do or have just simply forgotten to do.  Like sitting in Music Hall watching Garrison Keillor’s show.

As far as the nuts and bolts of today are concerned, it was a good day.  I went to Indianapolis to do a little Christmas shopping and was amazed that the malls were relatively empty.  I guess everyone was out yesterday on “Black Friday,” and they stayed home today.  I’d like to say that I came home with a trunk full of gifts, but I didn’t.  I did, however, come home with a list of things for myself…  J  Bad.  I know…

I’ll have to admit that this four-day weekend has been a good respite from the last three weeks, but I think that I’ll need to get back into the select-a-surgeon mode, writing out questions to ask the surgeon(s) once I meet them in my appointment(s).

Finally, I had a conversation with a friend who stopped by my sister’s house Thanksgiving night about my upcoming colonoscopy. (Yes, I know… A fine topic after a BIG Thanksgiving dinner…) He’s been putting his off for years because he’s terrified of the idea of—BLUNT CONCEPT WARNING—something going up his butt.  Instead of being terrified of that, he should be terrified of not knowing whether he has cancer in him.

So guys, all I can say is, GET OVER IT.  With a colonoscopy, at least you’re partially knocked out and won’t feel a thing.  And with the ol’ DRE—and the fifteen or so seconds of discomfort of having a finger poke around your rectum—it’s what discovered my tumor and led to further testing, diagnosis, and treatment.

Yes, I know it’s one of those, “If you can’t stand the answer, don’t ask the question” questions, but it can save your life.  I’m hoping that my early diagnosis and treatment will save my life so I can see as many goofy concerts or radio shows as I want.

Day 16 - Recovery

Another short post.  It was a great Thanksgiving with the family and friends.  Of course, today was spent picking over the leftover food and just recovering from the day before.  A relaxing day around the house with family.

All in all, they were two good, worry-free days.  While we never shied away from the topic of cancer, we didn't dwell on it when we did talk about it, and nor did I even think about the surgeon selection process.  That can wait until Monday.

That's it for this post.

Day 15 - Stuffed

This will be a short post.  A great Thanksgiving Day with my sister and her family and friends.  Of course, all of us ate far more than we should have.  But is was all so good.  Leftovers in the morning, afternoon, and evening tomorrow!

Day 14 - Thankful

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been two weeks since I learned that I have cancer—it seems as though it’s been two years already.  It just feels as though that day was a long, long time ago, but it really wasn’t.

That first Saturday—just a little more than 48 hours into this adventure—a friend asked something along the lines of “What are you learning from this?”  In typical fashion, I had to pause and think about the answer.  But not for too long.

I don’t recall the exact words that I said, but the lesson that I am learning from this—the silver lining in this cloud—is the importance and meaning of relationships.  Relationships that, perhaps, I had taken for granted or didn’t really fully understand how deep they are.

You have amazed and humbled me with your offers of support, kind thoughts, and prayers over these last two weeks.  Heck, I never expected this blog to garner much interest, but we’re approaching 500 visits since I launched this on Sunday, 14 November.  That’s almost 50 hits a day!  So that tells me that my relationships are much stronger than I may have thought they were.  That, or there’s nothing on TV and you have nothing better to do than read these ramblings...  J

With a little bit of luck and a lot of cooperative weather, I’ll be spending tomorrow, Thanksgiving Day, with my sister, her family, and a cousin, and I’ll raise a glass to everyone who’s been by my side through this latest chapter in my life.  Your support has been my biggest ally in getting me through this.  So all I can say is...

Thanks much!  Vielen Dank!  Muchos gracias!  Merci beaucoup! ありがとうございます。! Mahalo!

Oh.

And Happy Thanksgiving!!

Day 13 - Reflection

Today was a good day at work, but having to call the surgeon’s office at lunch put me in a reflective mood.

First, I called the surgeon in Cincinnati that I have the appointment with on December 9^th.  They sent me some paperwork to fill out in advance of the office visit, and they also asked me to call to go through my medical history.

For nearly 15 minutes, I’m answering questions about my background and that of my family.  I guess they need to be thorough in advance of a major surgery, but some of the questions seemed completely unrelated to my cancer.

I tried calling the surgeon in Indy again, this time using the correct phone number.  When I got through the endless automated menu, I got a voicemail message telling me that she was out of the office for the rest of the afternoon and to call back tomorrow.  Frustrating.  

I’m beginning to doubt the need to speak to two surgeons and to do my “comparison shopping.”  Will it really make a difference?  I don’t know.  It’s a leap of faith no matter which one I select.  Is it really worth the hassle and additional waiting to try to get in to see another surgeon? 

Ultimately, the prudent side of me will probably go through with talking to both.  It’s just something that I wish was done and the surgery was scheduled.

So those thoughts had a little cloud hovering over me on what otherwise was a great day.

Day 12 - Routine

I’m not sure what happened last night, but I was back to tossing and turning for some reason.  I looked at the clock: 1:33 AM.  Then again: 3:40 AM.  Hopefully there won’t be a repeat tonight.

Today was a great day at work.  I was very focused for the first time in a long time.  The thoughts of cancer remain ever-present, but now they’re not predominating every moment as they were a week ago.

I did, however, take some time over lunch to hop onto our health insurance provider’s website to check to see if the surgeons being recommended to me are part of our plan.  They are.  That’s always a good thing.

I tried contacting the surgeon who operated on our VP (the coworker I spoke with on Friday) but only got the squealing of a fax modem.  I’ll have to find his right phone number and try again. 

Last Friday, I was speaking to a different coworker and learned that his father had had prostate cancer and underwent a robotic radical prostatectomy several years earlier.  He offered to ask his father who his surgeon was, and I found out today that it was the same surgeon that my urologist recommended.  The outcome was successful.  My coworker’s father offered to talk to me about it if I want, and I will probably take him up on his offer soon.

I need to prepare a list of questions for the surgeon (and my coworker’s father), just as I did for the visit to the urologist.  For me, it really helps to have them written down because I’ll likely forget one or two if the conversation goes off on a tangent.

Another reason today was such a great day was the weather.  It’s a balmy 70 degrees at 7:30 PM which is highly unusually for this time of year.  Rather than drive home for lunch, I walked the mile to my house, enjoying the warm southerly breeze along the way.

Right after work, I drove to Jungle Jim’s Market in Cincinnati to pick up some landjägers (German salami sticks) for Thanksgiving with my sister and her family.  (Didn’t you know… There were a couple of Germans that came over on the Mayflower in 1620!!)  It’s kind of a family tradition for the holidays…

Well, time to pay the next medical bill that arrived in the mail today…

Day 11 - Fun

Wow.  It was such a great day that I almost forgot to update the blog!  If that doesn’t tell you how things are going, I don’t know what will.

I’m getting back into a more routine sleep pattern, waking at more reasonable hours instead of the 3 AM sessions early last week.  That’s good. 

Today was spent with a coworker and her family.  She asked me to take some photos of her family using my new toy (camera) for their Christmas cards this season.  It was a fun, warm afternoon and they were more than patient as I continued to learn the features of my camera.  Plus, it’s always fun being around a 13-month old child.  You have to be quick on your toes and even faster on the shutter release.  There were some real “keepers” and a couple of duds.

It was a great distraction from the last week.

On the drive back, I caught up with an old Navy buddy on the phone.  (Not that she's old...  Just that it's an old friendship!)  She's been helping her aging father, and she had some good insights into hospitals and timing of surgeries.  She suggested having the surgery earlier in the week rather than later, because trying to get someone discharged out of the hospital on a weekend is next to impossible (based on her experience with her father).  Good to know.

So that’s it for this Sunday night.  A load of laundry needs to be ironed, and then I’m off to bed.

Day 10 - Pick One, Any One

So I woke up in a fog this morning. 

I could barely see out the window it was so foggy.  Literally.  Oh.  And the half a bottle of chardonnay from the night before may have helped a tad.

A former co-worker visited last night.  We hadn’t seen each other in just over two years, so when I learned she would be in the area for a conference it made sense for her to stop for a visit.  We had fun getting caught up over dinner (yes, I cooked!), talking mostly about things other than cancer, and boring her to tears with photos of my last European adventure.  It was a great evening.

Once she headed off to the conference this morning, it was a pretty normal day around the house.  By late morning, I was zapped and fell back into bed for an hour or so.  I think all of the stress of the last week really took a larger toll on my body than I thought it did.  I’m going to have to watch that going forward.  I certainly don’t want stress to run down my immune system.

Unfortunately, the thing that I’m beginning to stress over is the selection of the surgeon for the prostatectomy.  My urologist wasn’t of much help on Thursday.

He operates out of a group of 20 or so urologists in the greater Cincinnati area.  He recommended two surgeons within his group to perform the surgery.  Both do “hundreds” of robotic prostatectomies each year.  Yet when I asked my urologist which doctor he would use if he was the one being operated on, he said, “Both are good.” 

One surgeon operates out of one hospital and the other out of a different hospital.  I asked which hospital would he prefer to be in, and again, “Both are good.”  He did his residency in the first hospital and currently operates out of the second.

Finally, I asked him if there was a good website that I could visit to learn about the doctors or hospitals and their records, and he offered up Angie’s List.  “But the people who put comments on sites like that only write negative things,” he said.  Hmmm…  Sounds like the voice of experience to me.

Needless to say, I was a bit miffed by his non-committal answers. 

I know this is the German, Capricorn, analytical side of me coming out, but this is my body and I don’t want this to be a pure crap shoot.  If one doctor has a higher complication rate than the other, that would factor into my decision.  If one hospital has a higher infection rate than another, that, too, would factor into my decision.  Of course, finding the right surgeon is the primary driver; pick the wrong one and I could be peeing in my pants the rest of my life.  (And, yes, I know that even great surgeons can have a crappy day.  There is no such thing as risk-free surgery.)

I did stumble across a website called Health Grades (see link to the right) that rates doctors and hospitals, but I haven’t had time to research who they are, how independent they are, and how they develop their ratings. 

If anyone out there in blog land knows of other ways to research surgeons, I’m all ears!  (Post a comment or, preferrably, send an e-mail using the e-mail link in my profile.)

I’ll have to admit that the VP I spoke to yesterday highly recommended his surgeon in Indianapolis.  He’s getting me the contact information so I can check him out.

I don’t want to drag this analysis out, either.  I want it to be thorough but quick.  It’s kind of odd, but when I think about the fact that I have cancer, I sometimes think that I’ve got little critters living inside me.  Gremlins.  I don’t know.  Weird, eh?  Anyhow, if they’re not going to pay rent, they’re going to be evicted, sooner rather than later.

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An administrative note about this blog...

You may have noticed that I keep people's names out of my narrative.  That's intentional.  Given the fact that any person on the planet with Internet access can read this blog, I prefer to maintain some level of privacy for all of us.

Day 9 - Normalcy?

Wow.  A pretty normal day today.   Although when I awoke at 5:00 AM (much better than 3:00 AM the night before!), the first thing that popped into my head was related to…  You guessed it.  Oh well.  I guess that’s the new norm for a while.

I sent an e-mail to one of our company’s VP’s this morning.  He had been through this about 4 years ago, and I offered to take him out to lunch if he’d be willing to share his experience with me so that I could be better educated and make a more informed decision about my treatment options.  I had met the guy a couple of times in the past but it’s not like I hang out with him, so I was a bit apprehensive about approaching him.  Within 10 minutes of the e-mail going out, he called me.

We spoke for nearly 30 minutes, and it was good to get his insight on both the surgeon and hospital selection process, and on the operation and its side effects.  (I’ll spare the details for now.)

So the next step is to really do some homework on surgeons and hospital facilities.  I hear a spreadsheet calling my name…

I also spent a bit of the day going through all that I pushed off the radar screen in the last few days, trying to get myself back on track and organized to hit the ground running next week, both personally and professionally.

So I think this weekend has some relaxation and some research in store for it…  The sooner I get the treatment lined up, the sooner all of this will be in the rear view mirror.  (And, no that doesn’t mean I’m rushing the decision.   It means I know how long it will take to do my analysis!!)

Day 8 - Oh Happy Day!

The bone scan was clean—no spreading of cancer! Woo-hoo!

The day started at 3:00 AM with a trip to the bathroom (TMI, I know…) and me being unable to fall back asleep from there.  Random thoughts about anything and everything just bounced around inside my head. 

I made it to work and by 10:00 AM, began to get uptight about the 11:15 AM appointment.  Luckily, the doctor was running almost on schedule.  I was in the exam room by 11:20, he arrived by 11:30, and I was on the phone to my sister at noon with the good news.

I had two meetings scheduled after lunch, and by the end of the second one, I was out of gas.  Between the 3 AM wake-up and being a bit more uptight about the results that I expected, I’m toast.  This cancer crap is exhausting!

So that’s two days in a row that have been pretty positive.  Let me chart that in a spreadsheet with a linear regression trend line! 

Next step: A nap.

Day 7 - Rebound

What a difference a day makes.

But before getting into that, am I really that predictable?  When I spoke with two people about this—in separate conversations in the last 24 hours—one of the first things they both asked was, “How big is your spreadsheet?”  Not one, but two!  Of course, they’re referring to my propensity to put things into spreadsheets for detailed analysis.  Sorry to disappoint, but “Data Dan” has NOT created a spreadsheet for this journey.  Yet.  (Yes, I’m a geek and damned proud of it!)

So I woke up this morning in a much better frame of mind and that carried through the entire day.  I was focused at work and got caught up on a few things that have been casualties of all of these distractions.  I’m hopeful that the trend will continue, but wise enough to know that there are probably rough days ahead yet.

I’m not at all worked up about getting the bone scan results tomorrow around noon, which is quite contrary to what I would have predicted a couple of days ago.  I’ll try to get the word out as quickly as I can, but I do know that my afternoon is booked with meetings, so getting to the blog may take a while.

I did call for the consultation appointment with the surgeon and that will be late in the afternoon on Thursday, 9 December.  I’ll have to confirm that we’ll have the colonoscopy results by then (scheduled on 6 December).

I ended the night with dinner at my friends’ home—a very enjoyable evening and a great close to a much better day. 

I guess when you hit a wall, you bounce off and try again.

Day 6 - The Wall

No, not the classic Pink Floyd album.  The emotional wall that I hit about 6 AM this morning.

I think the adrenalin rush from the last few days finally ended, and I came crashing down.  I just wanted to turn a switch off and have the constant thoughts about all of this go away.  And when I say constant, I mean every-freakin’-waking-moment constant.  It’s exhausting.

Rather than reading my not-so-best seller book last night, I took a pad of paper to bed and wrote down a dozen questions for my follow-up visit with the urologist.  When I woke up this morning, I wrote down one or two more amplifying questions.  Go to bed thinking about it; wake up thinking about it.  Not good.  But, I suppose that’s to be expected this early in the diagnosis and treatment game.

When I got to work, I really wasn’t sure that I was going to be able to function effectively.  But a couple of attentive listeners passed by my door early in the day and let me vent.  (You know who you are… Thanks!)  Not long after, I was able to plow through the emotional roadblock and begin work on a weekly report that I run.  The simple act of concentrating on spreadsheets and numbers was enough to slowly put some of the thoughts out of my head (or at least to make them appear less frequently).

Three-quarters of the conversation at lunch with a friend was about something other than cancer, and that was refreshing.  A couple of meetings after lunch also helped put the thoughts to the side for a while.  The moral of the story: Keep busy with other things.

Still, I have research to do, test results to wait for, and decisions to make, and all of those require thinking about this so I won’t be able to shut this off for the foreseeable future.

So what do I keep thinking about?  Oddly, it’s not the Big Question.  I don’t worry about death or dying.  It’s going to happen to the best of us no matter how hard we try to avoid it.  We can’t control how or when, so why get worked up about it?  I just focus on the here and now: How do I get through today?  When do I get my next set of test results?  What’s the next step?  Thinking too far ahead of the next set of facts won’t do me any good. 

Now, back to Pink Floyd…

Before I started working in manufacturing, the first thing that I would do when I came home was turn on the stereo.  But after a few short years of working in the constant din of the shop floor, I opted for pure silence when I came home.  The stereo stayed off.  Now music is playing once again to help soothe and distract.  The only drawback is having to crank the Victrola every ten minutes…

So the day started pretty rough and ended much better…  I think I’m at the beginning of settling into the new norm for me.  And thanks to all of you for your words of support.  They mean a lot to me.

Next event: Bone scan results Thursday around noon.

Day 5 - Books, Scans, & Calls



Bad idea.

“100 Questions and Answers about Prostate Cancer” is not a good bedtime read.  I made through Question 57 and had to put the book down (mainly because it was 11:45 PM).

Most of the material that I read I had seen in my previous research.  But there was one particular section that made me feel as though I was reading a Stephen King novel by candlelight in a creaky old house.

Tables 6 and 7 in the book talked about the likelihood of the cancer spreading outside of the prostate  (Table 6) or to the lymph nodes (Table 7) based on your PSA score, your Gleason score, and your tumor staging designation.

Based on the descriptions in the book, I think my tumor would be a T2a or T2b.  Combine that with my PSA (5) and my Gleason score (6), and there’s a 66% chance that the cancer is confined to the prostate for a T2a tumor and a 44% chance that it’s confined to the prostate for a T2b tumor.  For the likelihood that it’s spread to the lymph nodes, it’s 4% and 11%, respectively.

I’ll definitely ask my doctor to confirm my interpretation of the tables when I see him on Thursday and ask him about the study and its legitimacy.

Needless to say, that little tidbit kept me tossing and turning a good chunk of the night, and I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach and scared about the likelihood that the cancer has spread.  Not a good start to the day that I had a bone scan scheduled.

The bone scan was a piece of cake.  I went in at 10 AM to get injected with my radioactive juice, and went back at 1 PM for the actual scan.  I just had to lie on the table and keep still for 30 minutes.  She had to scan my melon-sized noggin twice; apparently the first image wasn’t satisfactory.  (No comments about the content or lack thereof, please!)

On my way out, I asked her if she saw anything that would indicate further testing might be required.  She told me the doctor would go over the results with me on Thursday, but that I shouldn’t get too worked up before then.  I guess that’s a positive sign, but I’ll withhold setting expectations for now.

Just days before my biopsy, I received a jury duty questionnaire from the Ripley County Court.  It was just what I needed on top of everything else that was going on.  My doctor wrote a note that I can send in with the survey in an effort to get me out of serving.   We’ll see if it works.

When I returned home, I found a message on my answering machine from my urologist’s office.  She wanted me to call a surgeon that my urologist recommended to set up an appointment to review my case.  He was one of three that my urologist had recommended during that initial meeting on Day 1.

That threw me for a loop.  I’m not ready to start talking to surgeons yet. 

You know me.  I wanted to take time to research all three of them to see what I found about their backgrounds, training, number of procedures performed, and complication rates.  I also was under the impression that we'd wait for the results of my bone scan and colonoscopy before we started talking specific treatment options.  I guess I’ll have to accelerate that research now.

It also makes me wonder if there’s a greater sense of urgency here than I was originally led to believe.  Or, perhaps, it’s just that to get on this guy’s calendar, you have to book months in advance.  Either way, I’m feeling pressured to take the next step, perhaps prematurely.  I’ll talk to my urologist on Thursday to get the real scoop.

So I started the day anxious, had a bright middle of the day, and ended it feeling pressured and confused.  I’m not sure you’ll find “100 Questions and Answers about Prostate Cancer” on my nightstand tonight.

Day 4 - Relax and Reflect

Sunday.  A day of relaxation.  And that’s what today was—for the most part.

A good chunk of the morning was spent getting this blog up and running.  It’s my first ever, so I had to figure out the technical mechanics of making it work.  That was a good mental distraction even though the content of the blog centers on my cancer.

Other than that, there were the few odd chores that needed to be done around the house—picking up, watering plants, a load of laundry or two, a run to Kroger to buy some groceries, and a stop by the post office to pay what will be the first of many healthcare bills.

So how am I doing?  Really.

I never really asked the question, “Why me?”  It has no answer other than the statistics show that one in six men in the U.S. will get prostate cancer.  I never really asked, “How did this happen?”  Researchers much smarter than me are still trying to figure that out. 

And while there was some anger between the initial discovery and the diagnosis, I quickly learned that harboring such anger was a destructive waste of time and energy (plus a few people I interact with wanted to slap me silly because I was so cranky).  That doesn’t mean that it’s gone away entirely; I think I just handle it a bit better now.

So I’m not sitting here in the dark going, “Boo-hoo, woe is me.”  I have cancer.  It’s not what I would have chosen for myself, but it’s what I’ve been dealt.  I can’t change that fact. Now it’s time to deal with it.

Of course, we’re still trying to define “it.”  Tomorrow I go for my bone scan to ensure that it hasn’t metastasized and spread beyond the prostate.  They’ll squirt some radioactive juice in my veins in the morning; I go back in the afternoon for the actual scan; and I’ll glow in the dark in the evening.  (Okay, I’m making that last part up.  I think.)

The radioactive material will form “hot spots” that show up on the scan where there are problem areas.  Unfortunately, it will settle in areas of cancer as well as areas of arthritis.  So if any hot spots do show up, I anticipate there may be even further tests needed to determine if they’re arthritis or cancerous.  With more testing comes more waiting.

My appointment to learn the bone scan results is on Thursday, 18 November.

Finally, my free gift from the doctor, “100 Questions and Answers about Prostate Cancer,” has been sitting on the kitchen counter since I put it there Thursday morning on returning from his office.  It may be time that I pick that up and start reading it.

Day 3 - Escape

"Okay, so what's up with the little ball of sunshine?" you ask.  I thought it might be a quick and wacky way of indicating what kind of day it's been for me emotionally.  A sunny day = a good day; an overcast day = a crappy day.  You get the idea...

*     *     *

Up early on a Saturday??  Moi???  Yes.  A decent night's sleep had me rolling out of bed around 6:30 AM.  Determined not to even think about cancer today (okay, not think about it much!), I decided that I would do what I do best:  Hop in my car and drive.

A friend at work rock climbs in the Red River Gorge of the Daniel Boone National Forest in Kentucky, and he suggested that I check it out.  It's about a three hour drive from here, so I found myself driving down the highway about 8 AM on an unusually warm (72 degrees) and sunny mid-November day.

The act of driving the twisting roads of the scenic byway and the search for photogenic sights kept my mind off of other matters.  It was a pleasant way to spend the day.

On the way back through Cincinnati, I stopped at Jungle Jim's market and picked up a bottle of wine and a hunk of Papillon Roquefort--not to drown my sorrows but to celebrate the day.

Cliches are cliches because there's an element of truth to them.  In an odd way, being diagnosed with cancer has made me feel more energized.  Perhaps I'm beginning to follow Tim McGraw's advice, "Live Like You Were Dying," or even my own mom's admonition that, "Life is not a dress rehearsal." (Don't take that as my believing the Grim Reaper is right around the corner--prostate cancer is highly treatable and curable, and that's what I'm focusing on.)

I'm sure that I'll have my down days--next week will be filled with a few of them as I wait for the bone scan results.  So look for a few clouds on the horizon as I take the next step in my journey...

Day 2 - Adjusting

So I woke up Friday morning much better rested than the previous night.  That doesn't mean that I had a full night's sleep; just a more restful one.

One of the things that kept me tossing and turning was the upcoming bone scan test.  If that shows the cancer has spread, that's a whole new ball game that we're dealing with.  That had me on edge very early in the morning.

I went to work and quickly sought out a couple of friends whom I didn't have the opportunity to tell on Thursday.  Nothing like starting the day with:

"Good morning, how are you?"

"Okay.  I have prostate cancer."

Unfortunately, there really is no delicate way to tell someone that you have cancer.  You just have to come out and say it.

I found it interesting that I really felt compelled Thursday afternoon and Friday to spread the word.  Perhaps it was simply because of my own discomfort with uttering the words, "I have cancer."  As with anything, however, repetition did make it easier.

By mid-morning, I had made the last of my intended announcements and then turned my attention on the bone scan, learning the timing of its results, and scheduling a meeting with the doctor to review the results.

Oh.  And I did some work, too.

By late morning, I was in a pretty good mood and more focused on what I needed to do for my job.  (I still wasn't completely focused on my job--just more focused.)  I was able to convince myself not to dwell on the results of a test that hadn't even been run yet.  We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

At the end of the day, I was in a really upbeat mood and decided to head to Cincinnati for dinner and a little shopping.  I was in bed with lights out by 10:30 PM.

Day 1 - The News

“Go ahead, Doc, make my day.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

So that’s how I learned that I have prostate cancer. 

My urologist went through a pretty detailed description of what I needed to know.    He took twenty samples during the biopsy the week before, and was surprised by how many returned with cancerous cells.  Most of the cancer was found on the right side of the prostate where the mass was, but some was found in the left side.

With a Gleason score of 6 and a PSA of 5, he classified the cancer as slow growing and thought that it was confined to the prostate for now.  I questioned the Gleason score of 6, considering that 10 is the max on the scale, indicating the most aggressive cancers.  He said that the scale isn't linear, and anything below a 7 is still less aggressive.

He was pretty confident that the cancer was contained within my prostate and had not spread, yet when I told him about some discomfort in my hip (one of the reasons for having the physical in the first place), he ordered a bone scan to ensure that the cancer hasn't spread outside of the prostate.

His recommendation for someone of my age (52) in my situation is to have a robotic radical prostatectomy.  He offered up several physicians in the Cincinnati area who do "hundreds" of these procedures each year for my consideration.  I have time to make the decision.  We also talked about the possible side effects of such a surgery.

I had an inkling that this would be the outcome.  I'm not sure why.  I just did.  So I've had a month to wrap my head around the possibility.  Still, it's not the same as when the doctor says, "You have cancer."  My sister wasn't expecting that answer and was quite shaken by the news.

As we left, the doctor handed me a book, "100 Questions and Answers about Prostate Cancer"--a $16.95 value (unless it shows up on my Anthem claim statement).  He did comment on how thorough my online research had been.  "Knowledge is power," he said.  And scary, too.

After leaving the doctor's office, we came back to my house to discuss the meeting and review my sister's notes (she was the extra set of ears and recorder--something I appreciated).  After half an hour or so, they decided it was time for them to head back to Chicago, and I was okay with that.

It was around 10:00 AM when they left, and I waffled on whether or not I should go back to work.  Within 15 minutes, I was in my car heading to the office.  I needed to let some close friends and coworkers know the outcome--they had been waiting anxiously for the results.  Besides, moping around the house wasn't going to do me any good, either.

I had let a handful of people know what I was going through but asked them to keep it quiet for the time being.  I let those folks know the results first, and each was stunned.  I told my boss that I'd been debating whether to make a public announcement to our team about it.  I live and work in Small Town USA where the gossip mill is alive and well, and I wanted to control how the message was delivered, especially to those I work with on a daily basis.

My boss was understanding and allowed me a few minutes at the end of our staff meeting.  I opened by saying that a few of them had approached me about being distracted or on edge the last few weeks, and that I had a reason for that.  I would also probably be distracted and on edge for the next few weeks as well.  All were shocked speechless at the news (or, perhaps, at the fact that I was sharing it in such an open way).

By the end of the day, I was physically and emotionally spent.  I had barely slept the night before (thanks to a neighbor's barking dog--or perhaps a coyote), and was in my bed, lights out by 10 PM.

"Bend over and spread your cheeks."

I went for a routine physical on October 7th and my doctor performed the dreaded digital rectal exam (DRE) as part of the process.  When she felt a firm mass on my prostate, she made sure that the blood drawn the previous day would also have a PSA test run on it.  The results on the PSA were elevated (5) and my doctor hooked me up with the local urologist for further screening.

On October 21st, the urologist needed to perform his own DRE and confirmed what my personal physician had detected: a mass on the right side of my prostate.  A trans-rectal ultrasound biopsy was ordered and took place on November 3rd.

Twenty tissue samples and a week later, the pathology report was in.  The appointment for the results was at 8:45 AM on Thursday, November 11, 2010.

My sister and her husband would drive from their home in Chicago Wednesday night to spend the evening with me and offer moral support the next morning as the results were being delivered.