Questions welcome

A friend just told me he's going for a biopsy soon...then he asked if he was going to be able to sit down after the procedure. Unfortunately, patients are totally unprepared for the experience before them. That's why we're here. Have questions? Ask...we'll answer.

New Blog

Today we start a new chapter offering the finest of Lucia's Paleo recipes...but, like in all of life, nothing good is free, it's gonna cost $1.50/ recipe!

Still Thankful

Today marks six years since I returned home, with Lucia's help, from surgery. Happy to report PSA still where it needs to be...and all reports are good. Do I miss my prostate? A little, but almost no downside.
Thanks to my primary care physician, surgeon, and everyone associated with my care. Life is good...
Please monitor your PSA, and take immediate action if action is indicated. Read about options (they're improving) then act.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Five Years

November 21 marked five years since my surgery. A lot has happened in those five years, including my recent retirement and Lucia's and my move to the Lake Erie shore.
Surgery was at once the easiest and most difficult decision I have made, but one for which I am eternally grateful...grateful too for the support and sacrifice Lucia has shown throughout the journey.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone...guys, get those PSA tests and regular prostate exams.

Four Years and Counting

I thought this November might have been my five year anniversary of my prostate's coming out party...but, alas, I see it's only been four.

Each year at Thanksgiving Lucia and I recall our first day home from the hospital (which was, in fact, Thanksgiving), and the full Thanksgiving meal we enjoyed.  It is a memory that adds yet another part of my life for which I must remain thankful.

Life has returned to completely normal, a fact reflected in the lack of posting in this blog.  There are, however, frequent events that cause me to stop and give thanks for my decision to go with the surgical treatment, it has proven to be a great decision for me...of course, I recognize every individual has to make his own choice.

Our County Commissioner, Tim Wert, has revealed his battle with prostate cancer and his surgical decision...I applaud Tim's bringing the issue into the light again, and wish him a recovery as full as has mine been.  And Tim...while the scars eventually fade, let's hope public awareness does not.

It's been a long time

It's been too long between blogs, things continue to go well as recovery continues.  Except for the blood work every 6 months, I seldom give my prostate cancer much thought (hence the long absence from the blog).  And then THIS arrived in my inbox yesterday...thanks Ken Jones!

Full Circle

It feels like a part of my journey has come full circle today as I passed along my remaining Viagra to a friend who recently had robotic surgery (good news, it appears all nerves were spared).

His prescription for Viagra was much like mine (half a tablet each day for up to 180 days) and his insurance, also much like mine, allowed only a few tablets each month (the fact the subject prescription is for therapeutic, not recreational, use has no bearing on the insurance company's policy).  I delivered the tablets to his wife who works in an office close to mine.  As I walked down the street, I found myself adopting what I imagined to be a drug dealer's swagger and singing the Steppenwolf song, "God Damn the Pusherman." 

The financial burden to complete the prescribed course of medication is daunting to say the least.  It was good to be able to pass along nearly 100 days worth of the medication in the hopes he will recover as quickly as did I and be able to pass along some of his prescription to another prostatectomy patient.  I did not follow through on my Viagra Bank idea, but I still believe it has merit.

And so, another chapter is closed on the road to recovery....can't get that tune out of my head (we really did have the best music).

Deja Vu (is that how you spell that?)

It's been several months since my last post. I was shaken from my lethargy by a visit with a friend who's husband was diagnosed with PC today sporting a Gleason of 9. She is, understandably, upset and fearful, but she said they had spoken of me on the way home as a poster-child for survival (not sure that's warranted, but I'm happy to fill any role that helps during, what I remember as, a very difficult time).

What I recall best is the feeling of isolation and complete confusion as to what the best course of action to choose. No one, at least no doctor, will tell you what you should do and you're left alone to make what may well be the biggest decision of your life. As I've mentioned elsewhere in this blog, one of the most confusing factors in the decision process is the apparent equality of outcomes for each type of treatment.

The role of the spouse at this time (although it's critical throughout the ordeal) cannot be over emphasized. While just as frightened as the husband (maybe more), the spouse can only look on and be supportive while her mate struggles with the diagnosis and the decision. The male doesn't know what the outcome will be, and what will be left of his “maleness” following treatment. He is, therefore, likely to occasionally be an asshole and difficult to be around. Been there, done that. Men are still stuck in early adolescence...and the thought we may have to wear a diaper, or not be able to “perform” signals an end to our masculinity...in our mind.

All of this just makes the decision process that much more difficult. The next few weeks of further testing and decisions will be difficult for my friends, but we will be there with them whenever possible (and invited). And I'm glad I can add some perspective from a rearview mirror much as Norbert Peiker and Ken Jones provided me.

Happy First Anniversary

A year ago on this date, at this exact minute (7:20am EDT), I was on a gurney being wheeled toward the surgical suite at Riverside in Columbus. Having never had any previous surgery, I had no idea what to expect. In a few hours I'd awaken to begin a new adventure sans prostate.

One year later, I awakened this morning and ran 3.5 miles, smiling all the way at just how far I have come in the past twelve months. Recovery was something I could have done without (the catheter, the tiredness, the catheter, the discomfort, the catheter, the concern about the return of function...and, did I mention the catheter?), but it remains a distant memory.

The controversy continues over the diagnosis and treatment of prostate cancer, but for me the issue is resolved. I continue to monitor my PSA level every six months and will do so for the next four years. To date I have not noticed any lingering effects from the surgery...function has returned and I appear to be one of the fortunate one third of patients who have no negative side effects from the procedure. OK, I have developed a mild case of vertigo in the last four or five months...but the episodes are now far apart, mild, and respond well to simple exercises. Is my vertigo somehow connected to the surgery? Don't know, don't care!

Highlights of the year would be the removal of the catheter, shooting my unused Depends at the pistol range, and running my first of five races completed this season.  I must recognize Lucia's contribution to my recovery as well...she was a rock throughout giving so much more support and help than one could ask of anyone.

I'm a bit disappointed in my performance as an advocate for prostate health. Initially I was on fire to help other men...and I continue to speak with the few who have sought me out to ask questions, but the fire has cooled considerably (a natural effect of having such a full recovery I suspect). Perhaps I'll dedicate this next year to rekindling my passion and become more active...or not.

The diagnosis of prostate cancer begins a long process of confusion, fear, and anxiety; it also opens several doors to new adventures and deeper relationships. I was, and am, a fortunate man...I wish you well.

Full Term!

Today marks the nine month milestone since my surgery...I'm officially full term! I continue to read articles regarding developments in prostate cancer diagnosis and treatment, I continue to speak to every male who will listen about the importance of regular screening, and I continue to heal.

Physically, I could not be happier. Last weekend I ran yet another 5K and managed to reduce my time...I'm still slow, but I'm a better me than I was earlier in the season and that's all I'm pursuing. Everything continues to function and I have only an occasional twinge to remind me of the surgery. The scars will never look cool, but they have all healed well. In fact, I continue to marvel at how completely a body can recover from the intrusion that is surgery.

The articles continue to do battle over the efficacy of PSA testing, but I'm pretty much past that conflict. Although, now that I think about it, I am still involved in that I have my blood work done every six months specifically to monitor my PSA levels (which should be, and have been, undetectable since I no longer have a P).

My newest challenge has been the development of vertigo. Although it's only intermittent, and appears to be positional in nature, it has been an interesting condition to experience. The physician did prescribed medication, but I choose not to use it for a variety of reason (not the least of which is the warning on the label that mentions the medication may cause dizziness...HELLO). I have started a routine of exercises (more like positions than exercises), that have had a very positive, and welcomed, effect. I have an entire routine on dealing with vertigo...but maybe that's another blog.

I continue to be pleased with the decision I made for my treatment, but I continue to remind everyone that my decision was just that...mine, not for everyone. And, I remain thankful for all of that with which I have been blessed. There is a country/western song that says, “I hope some day you get the chance to live like you were dying.” One's perspective changes, focuses, and improves.

On to the next milestone.

"Harms" vs. Death

Friend and radio legend Gregg Campbell, who holds several academic records as a result of his singular college career, sent me the following link to an article entitled:

“New Data on the Harms of Prostate Cancer Testing”

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/05/21/new-data-on-harms-of-prostate-cancer-testing/

Once again we are treated to the drum beat to eliminate PSA testing from our arsenal of weapons in the fight against prostate cancer.

Quoting from the article, “Change is hard,” Dr. LeFevre said. “It’s hard for all of us, both within and outside the medical profession, to accept that not all cancers need to be detected or treated, and that there are harms associated with screening and not just benefits.”


We're being set up. Of course, the odds are in favor of most prostate cancers to be slow growing and non-lethal (non-lethal only because something else gets us first), so why not just not test, prevent potentially unnecessary and expensive (that's the key) treatment, and let the unfortunate few die? After all, we live too long and, as a consequence, consume too many Medicare/Medicaid dollars anyway. And there are those “harms” associated with screening.


The unfortunate few include a growing number of friends, and sons of friends, who have died of prostate cancer. These are not numbers, these are people.  People who would, I imagine, be happy to endure “harms” in place of a pine box.

Forty-two is too young to die

It catches me off guard every time.  Sitting in my office writing a letter when the radio in the background catches my attention with a news story about Brian C. McIntyre...a broadcast news person who died of prostate Cancer at the age of forty-two.

I stopped working for a few moments and thought about the, relatively, young life taken.  The effect of his loss upon family and friends and the contributions Brian may have made now lost.

Would early detection have prevented Brian's death?  I have no idea of the circumstances surrounding Brian's disease and treatment.  But I do know this, for most, with early detection and treatment prostate cancer is curable...not just treatable...curable!

Forty-two is too young to die.  DRE's and PSA tests are not infallible (far from it), but they're the best screening modalities currently available.  Don't hesitate...I don't want to hear any more stories like Brian's.

Johns Hopkins' Health Alert

There is so much information available regarding Prostate Cancer, it's difficult to know where to begin. Not all the information you find online is accurate, nor is it all relevant.

One source I have utilized, and recommended to others, is the Johns Hopkins' Health Alert.

Recently Health Alert offered a resource that appears to be most comprehensive focusing upon recent studies, the Johns Hopkins' “Prostate Cancer Outlook 2012.”  While I have yet to receive the volume, the topics are of great interest to me and provocative with respect to trends, recent findings, and emerging approaches.

You can subscribe to Health Alert at no charge by going to:

http://www.johnshopkinshealthalerts.com/

In addition to other information, you will receive information on “Prostate Cancer Outlook 2012” once you have subscribed.

NOTE to Johns Hopkins' ('cause I know your Google-alert found this): you may forward any commission via Paypal :)

Warren Buffet, Illusionist

When I was diagnosed with stage one prostate cancer the physician said to me, “If you were ten years older, we'd probably tell you not to worry about it...you'll likely die of something else long before this will kill you.”

Now, I'm no spring chicken (Holy Crap is that an understatement), but I'm almost two decades younger than Warren Buffet.

Radiation treatment may be a palliative for investors in Berkshire Hathaway Fund, but it's not going to do much for Warren (Yeah, I know him well enough to call him Warren...NOT!). In fact, with few visible signs of treatment, I wouldn't be surprised if Warren shows up at the treatment facility each day, enters a room, reads the Wall Street Journal, emerges and departs sans treatment.

Skeptic? Yep.

HiFU for PC

Received this link via Facebook from my friend Tom Carto in Wisconsin...the future of treatment is very promising.

"Thought you would be as interested in this as I have been.   Hopefully this could be yet another option for those with the same diagnosis we had."

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/9206425/New-treatment-for-prostate-cancer-gives-perfect-results-for-nine-in-ten-men-research.html

Relay for Life

I spent a few minutes this weekend at a rally for the upcoming Relay for Life.  Relay, if you're not familiar with it, is an event of the American Cancer Society. Yes, it's a fund raiser...but it's much more.

Many years ago, before my personal experience with cancer, I was asked to MC an event for the local Relay.  I didn't know anything about the event, but I said yes because...well, because I'm a ham and jump at any chance to be before an audience.

At the end of the evening, they had a candle ceremony asking everyone to light a candle in remembrance of someone whose life had been touched by cancer; friend or relative - survivor or succumbed.  When they offered me a candle I declined explaining I was only the MC, not a part of the event.  But they insisted, so I thought, “OK, I'll do this in honor of my friend Wayne...no wait, I'll do this in honor of my grandmother...no wait, my sister, wait, my Mother....”

Then it hit me, I really needed to be a part of this.  After that, I spent several years volunteering for Relay but, in time, I drifted to other causes.

Now that I am a survivor, I'm back to Relay.  I'm going to walk proudly, and thankfully, in the survivor's lap, then remain for the rest of the event and raise whatever I can so more might join me in wearing a survivor shirt.

If you've never attended a Relay...visit one.  You don't have to participate to attend.  I'd suggest going for the Luminaria Ceremony around sunset.  The first time I attended remains one of my most memorable experiences.  The rest of the Relay is filled with laughter, tears, smiles, memories, and HOPE!

For new readers

If you, or someone you know, has been diagnosed with prostate cancer or has a concern regarding prostate health, the earliest posts in this blog (from 2011) chronicle my early PSA tests, biopsy, diagnosis, treatment decision, and subsequent events on the road to recovery.

It may be helpful at a time when many feel all alone.

A different path

Yesterday I had my first opportunity to speak with a gentleman I met shortly after we had both been diagnosed with prostate cancer.

While I was in the very early stages of research into treatment options, Dave had already made his decision in favor of external beam radiation.

Not too long after I returned to work I heard, second hand, Dave was suffering some side effects of his continuing treatment...but I did not speak to him personally until yesterday.

Dave looked well, said he was feeling great, and was most enthusiastic about his treatment choice.  “The only negative aspect to the process,” Dave said, “was the daily trip to the hospital for those several weeks.”

Recent visits to the oncologist have been very positive and Dave's PSA levels bob up and down, but all within a very limited, and acceptable, range.

We promised we'd buy each other a beer when we next see each other in the evening.  Life is good.

Oh crap!

We have just returned from ten days of pure pampering...ten days filled with great wine, remarkable food, and wonderful sunshine.  Relaxation was the name of the game with little attention paid to physical fitness. And then I opened my accumulated mail.

The first newsletter I read contained a very brief article describing a recent study finding the addition of just five pounds of body weight with a year following prostate surgery is correlated to a statistically significant increased chance of reoccurring.  Five pounds!?  Hell, I did that in ice cream the first week.

I believe the lesson to be learned here...avoid reading.

During our trip, I had the opportunity to meet many wonderful people from all over the world. And had conversations with two regarding their experience with prostate cancer.  One gentleman, Bob, had elected for surgery and was doing extremely well...he is eighty-five years old, but one would never guess it.  This had been his third cancer diagnosis and he said, “It was an easy decision. Get it out of here!”  Bob and his wife were great fun...as long as the Blackjack dealer was turning the right cards.

The second gentleman was a retired attorney (OK, attorneys never really retire...they just lose their briefs) who had elected external beam radiation more than twenty years ago, “When I was just sixty-four,” he told me, and he's was still going strong (no pun intended...we didn't talk about that).

Once again, every survivor is a strong advocate for their chosen treatment. In addition, these two were both engaging, entertaining, enjoyable men who have chosen to live their lives to the fullest.  Another lesson to be learned...and lived.

Relay for Life

Several years ago, when the local program was in it's infancy and struggling, I became involved in Relay for Life.  I participated for many years and enjoyed every part of this remarkable event.  Then I lost touch...no reason, no conflict...I just drifted away.

Yesterday I encountered Relay on Facebook and thought, “Hey! I'm a survivor, I should reconnect and be a part of it.  So I left a message for the local committee that I'd like to participate...I don't know the date, location, I don't know nothin'!

If you've never attended a Relay for Life, visit this year.  The “Hope Walk” (if that's what it's called...I've forgotten) just after sunset is a touching and beautiful event.   But there's something going on all the time, with lots of celebrating, remembering, laughing, crying, walking, and running.

We have all been touched by cancer.  Relay for Life funds research, celebrates survivors, encourages those currently in the battle, and remembers those for whom the fight is over. It is also one hell of a lot of fun!