Thursday, December 2, 2010

It's the holiday season . . .

For my family and I, it's another year of blessings. It's December already and time seems to just keep flying by - which is a good thing at times.

We're all looking forward to celebrating Christmas and the New Year with family and friends. The tree goes up this weekend, the shopping has already started in our household - when my wife got me to join her on "Black Friday".  It really wasn't so bad as we stayed away from the malls and stuck with the local stores getting a good deal of shopping done.

As for me, I'm keeping my chin up and doing everything I can to stay positive and upbeat - just living life as I should be.  Though at times it's not always as easy as it may seem.

One of the things I've discussed here in the past has been how difficult the "not knowing" part of all this can be.  For some patients, and even for my wife and myself early on, it was almost paralyzing.  The waiting on test results, waiting for and then deciding on the next steps, can all just be rolling around in your head constantly.  You just have to do your best to put it all aside . . .  laugh, enjoy time with friends and family, put your best efforts in at work or your favorite hobbies.

It's been nearly four months since my last radiation treatment and ADT hormone injection. Outside of dealing with the occasional hot flashes, lack of any sustainable energy level and trying to fight off the additional weight gain from the medications - I've had little to actively do - medically - to fight the cancer.  First it was all the tests, bone scans, MRIs, doctors appointments and the like - the surgery and recovery, the eight weeks of radiation and six months of hormone meds.  Then suddenly, it all comes to a stop and you feel like you're on your own.

Sure, if I had any issues or real concerns I could call anyone of my 5 doctors and speak with them, but somehow asking about the occasional insomnia, the difficulty keeping my weight down, the odd pains/aches I sometimes feel deep in my shoulders, lower back and legs - all seems trivial and not worth the phone call in comparison to what I've already been through.  Besides, I'm not in my 30's anymore and I've been through all that before I had cancer.

In addition to having been four months since my last treatment and doctor's appointment, it's also been four months since my last PSA blood test.  Yeah, sure . . . my PSA level had thankfully remained at <0.05 since my sugery 14 months ago.  Awesome and blessed news (as I've said countless times here), but knowing that my diagnosis had been changed in March of this year to "metastatic" disease - I have to admit I've been a bit anxious about not being tested for a while.  At some point I will only be tested once or twice a year, but it's one of the simplest things that I can have done for my own peace of mind.  It kind of makes you think twice about those little pains you feel every so often.

My next PSA test will happen soon enough as I meet with both my medical and radiation oncologists at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center late next week for follow-ups.  Of course I don't expect any earth or life shattering news, but at the same time I realize that I'm a bit of a crossroads.  As much as I want, and need, to know what my PSA level is - the holidays are here. However unlikely as it may be, I'm honestly afraid to hear that my PSA may have increased as we approach Christmas.  The last time I got the bad news about it, my wife and I had just celebrated our 25th anniversary.

So there's my paradox.  Of course, I can ask the doctors to not let me know until after the New Year's holiday, and I'd have to fight my urge to check my test results online, but at the same time I'd hardly want to wait to begin any kind of treatment that may be necessary.

OK, maybe I worry too much about all this, and I'm sure everything will be fine.  But this is what a cancer diagnosis can do to you - how nuts everything can make you. You just need to stay focused and active in life.  Find a prostate cancer advocacy or support group to become involved with like the Prostate Cancer Foundation, Pints for Prostates, Us TOO International or Imerman Angels to do what you can to offer help to others facing what you've experienced in your own cancer battle. It can mean a world of difference to someone who is facing a new diagnosis or about to begin treatment if you would only take the time to talk to them and share your own experiences.  I've become involved with each of the above organizations at some level, and I know that I've not only helped other patients, but it's helped me as well.  After all, it is the season of giving.

Thanks again for all your love, prayers and support over the last year. It has meant the world to my family and I. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all.


CJP


Monday, October 11, 2010

How time does fly . . .


whether you're having fun, or not.

This Thursday, October 14th, marks the first anniversary of my prostate cancer surgery. I have to say, it's been an interesting 14 months since my diagnosis.


The good news to this point, is that there's nothing much to report. I completed my last radiation treatment, and my last hormone injection, more than two months ago. Still dealing with some post-surgical side effects, things I'm just going to have to learn to accept and live with as difficult as it may be.  Hey, I'm still here and that's what matters.

My next follow-up and blood tests will be done in early December. Looking for "free" PSA levels to continue on the low side.  My PSA level has remained at <0.05 since my surgery.

I find myself trying to really comprehend all that I've gone through in the last 14 months.  It has been one heck of a rollercoaster - one I don't encourage anyone to ride if you can avoid it. The hardest thing to deal with these days, and it really seems stupid when I think about it, is that there's nothing really for me to be doing now. After a year of going through countless blood tests, doctors appointments, MRI's, bone & CT scans, laparoscopic surgery, recovery, counseling, more doctors appointments, meds, daily radiation treatments and hormone therapy - it's quite a change, and sometimes difficult to adjust to.


As a Christian, we are taught, or know, in difficult times that we need to turn everything over to God; all our fears, our worries, our pain and just let it all go.  Let God take it all on Himself and know that He is taking care of it all. As a cancer patient, you do a lot of praying through your whole ordeal - even those who don't call themselves "Believers".


In the early days of my diagnosis, and as the day for my surgery approached, there was really only one time that I really felt any kind of concern and anxiety. That happened during the walk to the operating room. Until that time, I felt very much at peace with all of it.  There was of course some sleepless nights, and some tearful discussions with my wonderful wife, Janet.  But, my heart and mind were very much prepared (seemingly) for anything about to come.  I know where that strength and sense of calm was coming from, and I was not afraid of whatever the outcome may have been.  There was still a great number of unknown factors until the surgical team were able to get a good look. I knew that the possibility that this could be "really" bad was real, and I did what I could to prepare myself for whatever news may come once I was out of the recovery room.

My prognosis remains positive even though my diagnosis had the "metastatic cancer" tag added to it back in March of this year.  It's a sobering thought knowing how close I came to this disease reaching a level of incurable. For now though, I'm focused on all the positives, on my family and my Faith.

Thank again to all our friends and family for all of your love, prayers and support over the last year.  One year down, and, hopefully, many more to go.


Cheers!


CJP

Thursday, August 26, 2010

An anniversary . . . but one of celebration?


This weekend marks the anniversary of a moment in my life where everything just stopped.

The air stood still. The sounds around me just seemed to fall silent, and disappear. The only thing I was aware of was Janet's hand in mine - her grasp having suddenly become just a bit tighter.  It was the day I found out about my cancer.
That news was far from expected, and the timing couldn't have been more ironic. But there it was, and it was time to get to work and start the "good fight". Through a battery of blood work, MRIs, CT and bone scans, multiple doctor visits, followed by more blood tests and xrays, and scans . . . .  then surgery, eight weeks at home recovering, more doctors visits, blood tests . . . . .  two more doctors, testosterone reducing injections, eight weeks, 300 doses of radiation, and 56 blog entries (make that 57) later . . . .    here I am.

I get exhausted just thinking about it all again.

Oddly enough, through everything my family and I have been through, this last year seems to have passed quickly.  Now generally, I'm not a fan of life just moving out of control like a New York driver heading east along the Merritt Parkway. But, I have to admit that in a certain context, I'm very happy it's moved along at such a rapid pace.

Last week I've had, what I believe, is my last injection of Lupron (probably to just extend these wonderful side effects I've had the pleasure of experiencing). My PSA levels have remained at <0.05 since surgery, down from 62.7 a year ago. This is very good news, and a strong indication that the cancer has not spread anywhere else.

So what's next? A very good question indeed. The month of September is the first month in a year that I don't have a doctor's appointment or tests scheduled. Certainly a bit of a happy note there.  My next followup is with my medical oncologist in October, and then another with the radiation oncologist in December.  Hey! I don't have an appointment in November either!

I'm looking forward to fall in New England this year.  I've always enjoyed the change of the seasons and the beautiful fall foliage we have in this part of the country. It was something I could really only experience through the window, and during my short walks in the neighborhood, last year as I recovered from surgery.


This year, I've got the added bonus of joining many of my classmates from Acton-Boxborough Regional High School for our 30th reunion. I've been in contact with some of my old friends over the last year, and they've offer so very much support to my family and I during my treatment and recovery.  It's going to be nice to thank them in person, and to share some great memories and, I'm sure, embarassing photos.




The most difficult part of it all has been the not knowing what was happening, and what to do about it.  Well, I've done everything I was supposed to do, and been everywhere I've supposed to be when I was supposed to be there in this last year.  And now, like when this all started, it's time to just keep on living life and enjoying my family and friends.

Thanks again to those of you that have followed these ramblings.  It's provided a way for me to get things off my chest, and perhaps even helped other prostate cancer patients (actually, I know for a fact it has) in coping with their own new diagnosis.

I thank God for the amazing doctors, nurses, family and friends that have been brought into my life.  I am very blessed.


Friday, August 6, 2010

Done, and DONE.

Eight weeks, five days a week, 300 doses of radiation . . . DONE! 
One year to the day of my tell tale PSA blood test that started this whole thing. 

A quick note of thanks to some of the staff of MSKCC I've become very familiar with while undergoing my cancer treatment; Dr. Bertrand Guillonneau (Surgeon), Dr. Heidi Rayala, Dr. Lewis Kampel (Medical Oncologist), Dr. Brett Cox (Radiation Oncologist), Janey Regan (Radiation Nurse), the radiation therapists (Paul, Matt, Heather and Joe), and of course the great staff of nurses in each of the respective departments represented above.


The level of care, professionalism and compassion was not only the means by which I believe I can now look to a long, and hopefully cancer free life, but provided a great personal sense that I couldn't have been in better hands.


Thanks again to those of you who have offered your words and prayers of support, and who have followed these ramblings over the last 12 months.  This blog has been a way for me to get some of the craziness of everything out of my head.

To my wife Janet, and our three sons Jason, Evan and Ryan, my parents and in-laws, close friends both here in Connecticut, and in Massachusetts;  thank you one and all.  I couldn't have made it through the last year without you.

There's still a fight left ahead of me, and tests down the road to be performed to keep an eye on this disease. I won't be declared "cancer free" for some two to five years, but I'll go with what I know now. This is done.  It's time to put it behind me, and just focus once again on life.






Cheers!

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Oh so very close . . . and a call to refocus on what really counts.

At this point, I have now completed six weeks (30 sessions) of radiation treatments.


There really isn't much more to say about it quite frankly. It's just become part of a daily routine that will thankfully be ending in a couple of weeks.  There's really no pain involved that's directly related to the radiation - just some resulting side effects that should all clear up in the weeks following my treatment.


The only disappointing part is that I was hoping to be able to at least have 4 or 5 days of my vacation to spend time with Janet and the boys. I originally expected the last treatment to be on Wednesday, Aug. 4th during my week off from work for "vacation", but now my final treatment is scheduled for Friday, Aug 6th. - meaning that each day of my vacation time will include a near 4-hour door-to-door round trip into the city - and about two hours of hanging around the hospital.


Don't get the wrong impression.  I am fully aware that there are much worse things than what I have been dealing with  - a fact brought to light very harshly by the news this weekend of a good friends' brother being mowed down by a car while walking across the street; and by the news that the mother of one of my sons' friends suffering a stoke/heart attack and then during treatment the doctors discovered the woman has extremely advanced cancer. But, if I've learned nothing else from this experience, it is the reminder of precious and short our time with our families and friends truly is.


Our careers and jobs should be the manner by which we are able to provide food, clothes and a roof over our heads, and the means to be enjoy the people closest to us, and more importantly to help others less fortunate than we are.  We who spend 70 and 80 hours a week working are missing out are what is most important in our lives.  And those who demand these hours from us, they too need to reevaluate priorities. Much of what we toil over in our jobs is for the here and now. Something that in many cases in the bigger picture, is nothing more than vapor.


The employees that work so diligently to make a business successful need to be allowed the opportunity to make their personal lives just as successful - actually, more.  Weeknights spent working until the wee hours, or even working at home, weekends recovering from hellish pressure filled work day, and maybe two weeks off for vacation each year isn't nearly enough. Otherwise, what's the real point of it all?


Look at your kids,  your husbands, your wives . . . .  is all that comes to mind memories of time gone by?  What about the time you have right now? It all passes by in a relative "blink", and it can be interrupted, or taken away, even faster. Sometimes tomorrow is far too late, or is never given the chance to come around.



Friday, July 9, 2010

Halfway home.

I thought I'd drop in and leave a quick post as today marks the halfway point in my radiation treatments for prostate cancer. Four weeks went by pretty quickly, and I'm holding up well.

I have a few issues due to the radiation, but I've been able to deal with them pretty well.  Most of it's been related to fatigue, and some other minor physical discomfort.  All of it is pretty much what I was told, and read, to expect.


As these next few weeks approach, the fatigue may become more of a factor. I've already noticed it increasing this last week. In fact, when I went to Sloan-Kettering for a treatment earlier this week, I was asleep within 2 minutes of sitting down after checking in.  One of the techs had to wake me up to let me know to start drinking the 20oz of water I'm supposed to drink before my treatment, and again when it was my turn to change for my treatment about 45 minutes later.  The triple digit temps we've had here in the northeast this week may have had an added affect on my energy level, but I've noticed my energy level decreasing pretty early in the day these last two weeks.


Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. I just thought I should make note of yet another milestone along this long road.  Once again, thanks to everyone for their continued support and prayers.  Even though this has been one of the most difficult times in my life, your friendship and support has made this trek much easier to tolerate.  I am truly blessed with a wonderful family and some great longtime friends.


Enjoy the weekend!  Cheers!


CJP

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The countdown continues. . . .

I thought I'd stop by and leave a quick update . . . 

Today will be my 13th of 40 scheduled radiation treatments, and all seems to be going well. I've been experiencing a few minor side effects from the treatment to date, but overall I'm doing well and I'm looking forward to when this will all be over and behind me.

Honestly, the biggest issue is just the daily routine of running over to Sloan-Kettering's radiation center for my treatment, then dodging what seems to be a daily rain storm on my way to the subway at 68th & Lexington Ave. to head back to  Grand Central Station to grab the train home.

But, I know that things could be a lot worse.

Each day I sit in the waiting room, I see some familiar faces of those men and women who are receiving radiation, and chemotherapy, treatments for various types of cancers.  Those going through the double whammy of chemo and radiation look so tired and weak most days that I feel very blessed to be in the situation that I am in and that it's not any worse.

I've spoken to some other men being treated for prostate cancer. Some of them, like myself, have had surgery and are going through radiation as an adjunct treatment to increase the chances of killing off any remaining cancer cells.  Others, whose cancer was caught much earlier than mine, are under going radiation and hormone therapy in order to shrink their tumor in hopes of avoiding the surgical route.  This wasn't really an option I had available to consider.

We share our situations, and offer our support to one another like members of an unlikely, and unfortunate, brotherhood. To date, I'm still the youngest member of the group that I've met.  A somewhat unwelcome distinction that I just have to deal with.

Even after all this time - some 10 months since my initial diagnosis - I still find it somewhat surreal. As I lay down on the table while the RapidArc radiation system rotates around me, I stare at the ceiling wondering "how in the world I did I get here?" The impact that this cancer has had on my life, and that of my family, so far would have to be considered to be pretty minimal, but impact it does.

I'm unable to work a full 10-hour day at my office because of my radiation schedule, and as such I'm not being placed on any major projects. Of course, it's something that at a certain level I appreciate my employers for, but at the same time I have eight hours of boredom to face each day I walk into the office. Add to that the now very routine process of heading over to Sloan, waiting for an hour or more, getting my treatment, then making my way back to GCT for my train.  (and yes, I know I said that twice  . . . . hoping that the feeling of my boredom gets to you by its repetitive nature)

This weekend is the July 4th holiday.  An indication of how quickly the summer passes us by.  I have taken a vacation day this Friday, and it is my understanding that we have Monday off (it's never a guarantee around my office that we would have a long-weekend off) and I am looking forward to spending it with my family. Monday will be one of the few days I won't have radiation treatments, and I am hoping to take my sons out fishing this weekend - though I may have to wait until next weekend as it looks like boat we go out on is booked up already.

I have always loved spending time with Janet and our three boys, but it's amazing how much more I look forward to doing with things with my family since this diagnosis came about. It's one of those times where I'd like to turn the clock wayyyyy back and do a lot of things very differently. I am praying that all of these treatments will give me the chance to do just that, and make it up to my wife and family.

Happy July 4th weekend to you all!  Be safe and have a great time with family and friends.
Cheers!



Wednesday, June 16, 2010

In the words of that great American animated linguist, Homer Simpson . . .

"WOOHOO!"
I'm 10% of the way through my radiation treatments (that's four out of the 40 that are planned).

I met with my radiation oncologist last Friday, before my 2nd treatment, and he's very happy with the treatment plan and the coverage fields they are hitting during the treatments.

It's all pretty simple from my stand point.  I have to drink about 16oz of water when I first get to the radiation clinic so that my bladder is full for the treatment. This helps to help minimize the affect the radiation has on my bladder itself. After about an hour, I am told to go ahead and change into the hospital gown and wait in the inner waiting room just outside of the room that the machine(s) is in.

When it's my turn for treatment, I'm called into the room that houses the Varian RapidArc radiation treatment system.  The machine rotates around the table (couch) in front of it in a 360 arc - each time stopping where the appropriate dose needs to be applied.  Once I lay down on the table, the technicians turnoff the lights and turn on the laser lights and then position me on the table for proper alignment. Once that is done, the technicians leave the room and close a 14 inch thick lead door behind them.  At that point the warm fuzzy feeling about how safe this all is comes into question.



The bulbous portion at the top is where the dose(s) of radiation are emitted. The arms are either side are the "eyes" of the system - gathering a 3D x-ray image to assure proper alignment so that each dose is applied as accurately as possible. The table rises up to within 8 inches of the primary emitter, and the system rotates into position.

In my situation, the system rotates and then stops at five different locations, each time administering one to two doses of radiation - first a broader area, then a more narrowly targeted area.  Each dose is approximately 20 secs.

There is little to no sensation of the treatment - whatever I do seem to be aware of is probably just in my head (a mild tingling, or pulsing sensation).


So that is IMRT in a nutshell - or at least my experience with it. Four treatments down, 36 more to go.   I wonder if I will need to come in on the July 4th holiday?  The place must be a zoo the day before with everyone trying to sneak a treatment in earlier than their scheduled time.  I'll probably be doing the same thing.

Cheers!


Thursday, June 10, 2010

Let the Barbecue Begin!



It's summertime!  And what's better than a barbecue in the summer?

Today, in about 4 hours to be exact, I'll be getting the first of forty doses of radiation to kill off whatever cancer cells may still be present in my pelvic area (the prostate "bed" to be precise).

My wife joined me on Tuesday when I had my final planning session.  I wanted her to be able to see where I would be each afternoon, and to have a mental image of the room.  I didn't do this in order for her to worry more, but so that the "not knowing" part wouldn't be a burden on her through the day.

Am I anxious?  Sure - who wouldn't be. Over a period of about 20 minutes I'll get a dose of radiation to nine specific areas - about a minute a piece. I figure in a few weeks I'll be able to host a marshmallow roast in my edit suite each afternoon.  KIDDING!!

I've read and have been told about all the possible side effects . . . .  but I have know idea which ones I'll get to experience, or how severe they may ultimately be.  Time will tell.

CJP

Monday, May 31, 2010

Mapped out, tattooed and my daily "BBQ" schedule is in hand.

First . . . Happy Memorial Day to you all!


I've always thought it's kind of an odd statement, but it is one of only two official days in this country when we pay our respects to those who have given their lives for the freedoms we enjoy in this country.  They deserve more whether you agree with their mission or not - they are putting their lives on the line to protect those who are unable to do so.  That's a hero.


 - - - - - - - - - - - 


After my simulation and mapping session in the radiology dept. at Sloan-Kettering, I am all set to begin my radiation treatments next week.  It's another one of those surreal times I've experienced in the last year - one that I just can't quite figure out how I got here or even why. Sometimes it's still a bit hard to digest and accept.


All that aside, I continue to move forward.  My radiation treatments begin on June 10th, and will run until August 4th . . .  every week day.  On June 8th, I have one last appointment before I begin the treatments. This is when the radiation oncologist determines the exact angle(s) and location(s) of the radiation dose.  Once that information is set into the computer, each time I go for my treatments a laser scanner will read the six small tattoos I now have to properly align the radiation beam and apply the dose.


This wasn't quite how I saw my summer months being spent this year. . . .  I really planned to spend more time with my family enjoying life just a bit more with a new frame of mind.  Of course I will do this no matter what . . .  just more day or one-night trips than maybe going away for a week.


At least when my radiation treatments are completed on August 4th, it will be a time to celebrate . . .   our 26th wedding anniversary.



Thursday, May 27, 2010

A sad day.

Today I heard the news of the passing of a friend and fellow prostate cancer patient, Ken Sjogren.  He passed away at age 44 after his nearly two year long battle.

Ken and I worked together in the late '80's in Boston, and only last May reconnected through Facebook.  He had been working in California since he left Boston, and in the last 10 years or so worked as a digital artist/compositor at George Lucas' Industrial Light & Magic.  Ken's career lead him to work on major feature films like "Star Wars EP3", the Harry Potter films, "Pirates of the Carribbean", "The Chronicles of Narnia", and most recently "Iron Man 2".

It was not long after that I learned of his diagnosis and battle with prostate cancer. He had surgery in Boston in November of '08, but afterwards his PSA levels remained high and continued to fluctuate.  After undergoing radiation treatments and nearly 8 months of hormone therapy, it looked as if Ken was in the clear - with PSA levels hanging around 1.4.

I last spoke with Ken via Skype about 5 to 6 weeks ago. He was in good spirits as always and looked as well as I had seen him in previous phone/video calls. The conversation was short, and ended somewhat abruptly.

I realize now, that the backdrop during our video conversation wasn't the one I had become accustomed to - that of his apartment in Sausalito, CA. But, it was that of his parents' home in Grafton, MA.  Perhaps he didn't want to tell me that things were not looking too good.

Ken served as an amazing source of information and support when I first found out about my own diagnosis last August.  Always reminding me not to attach his experiences to my own situation - that every prostate cancer diagnosis and treatment was different. He spoke a few times with my wife Janet while I was home recoverying from surgery - checking in on me, as well as how she and the boys were holding up.


I am angry at myself that I didn't make a trip to California in April to visit Ken and a few other of our friends out there. That's a mistake I will no longer allow myself to make.

Kenny, I know I said it before to you but I'll say it again.  Thank you so much for your friendship, our days at Target Productions and our renewed friendship this last year.  For all the strength, caring and support you showed me as you fought your own battle against this beast of a disease.  I will be forever grateful to you, and will keep your memory and our friendship with me always.  


Rest peacefully Ken.  We'll see each other again some day.







Monday, May 24, 2010

So here I am . . .

nearly 7 months post surgery and all seems to be going as hoped for.  Life continues as normal. Work has been a bit slow, but I'm staying pretty busy.  Far from our usual norm of sometimes insane hours and exceedingly tight schedules.


Our oldest son Jason is back from school having completed his sophomore year in college.  Janet, Evan and Ryan have another four weeks or so until this school year is finished.  Janet and I went to a great show Saturday evening. Peter Wolf, solo artist and longtime frontman for the J. Geils Band, has been touring around the northeast promoting his first album release in seven years - "Midnight Souvenirs".  It's Peter Wolf back to his roots of R&B, rock, funk and honky-tonk mixed in for good measure.


As you can tell, it was a great distraction - and a wonderful night out with my wife.


Where was I? . . . .


My PSA level has remained at near non-dectectable levels since my surgery, my overall recovery has been good and my doctors are very happy with my progress.  Of course, there is that one issue that remains . . .   the advanced state and high grade of my cancer at the time of my surgery.


I'm home from work today as I am scheduled for my radiation simulation/mapping session tomorrow.  There are a few medications I need to take in preparation for the mapping scans and it's not something you want to take and be working or traveling for any length of time or distance (I think you catch my drift on this).


The session is to map out where everything is so to be able to direct the radiation only where it needs to go.  I will be getting 4 to 6 small tattoos (dots about the size of a pen tip) that the scanner will use to direct the beam each time I go in for my daily BBQ over the coming weeks.


As best as I can tell, I am still scheduled to receive 40 treatments - over a period of eight weeks, 5 days a week.   And then, that should be that.


Not much else going on these days.  We're all looking forward to the summer months and perhaps doing some boating up on Candlewood Lake, or if I'm up for it, some trips to visit friends in the Lake Placid area of NY, and of course back home in Mass.


Don't forget  . . .  There are still tickets available for the prostate cancer awareness and fund raising event I have planned.  It's Saturday, June 19th at the Thomas Hooker Brewing Company in Bloomfield, CT.  Local craft beers, BBQ from Black Eyed Sally's and live blues music from Boston area based "The Biscuit Rollers".  There will be door prizes, t-shirts, and for a $10 donation you can have a chance to win a 3-night trip for two to the Great American Beer Fest in Denver, Colorado June 19th to June 21st.


To purchase event tickets  ($40 per person), please go to www.pintsforprostates.org and click on the Thomas Hooker Brewery ticket on the right side of the page.  All proceeds go to Us TOO International and their  support and education programs for prostate cancer patients and their families.


Thanks again for all your support . . .    and I hope to see you at the event on June 19th!

Friday, April 16, 2010

Day One (re-deux)

Today I began what will soon become my revised daily routine upon my arrival at GCT . . . a  trip over to E67th Street for an injection of Lupron, and soon the start of my radiation treatments.

It's a busy Friday morning here at the Radiation Treatment Center.  It appears that there are more patients waiting that would be even be possible to move through the system so early in the morning. One young patient mentioned that because it's Friday, many patients arrive early in the hope of getting an earlier start to what is probably a well deserved weekend.

Everyone is here for the same reason. As one waiting patient put it, "an early morning barbecue". I laughed out loud and commented on his good natured attitude. I hope that after two months of this routine, I'll be able to maintain a similar smile in my tone.

It's a quiet place for having so much activity. Perhaps it's the harsh reality of what stepping off the elevator and into the waiting area represents.

In the short time I've waited here, I've already met patients who are knee deep into their daily "nuking". Others, first timers like myself, seem a bit disoriented in the surroundings. Not sure to go left or right down the hallway, or what direction to look when their name has finally been called. One ray of sunshine on this cloudy day as we wait for our names to be called; a couple of patients were met with a moving wave of applause as they stepped out of the locker room. An uplifting sign that their radiation treatment has come to an end, and it's finally time to move on.

So here we go . . .  and don't worry.  I'm still smiling and making my plans for tomorrow and beyond. I've got a long life to live, and a loving family and friends to share that time with.


Friday, April 9, 2010

The ballots have been cast and tallied . . .

and the decision is . . . . .   coming right after this commercial break!


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Do you know a friend, or family member, who has been diagnosed with Prostate Cancer?  Have you been diagnosed with Prostate Cancer?  You're not alone.


One in six men will be diagnosed with Prostate Cancer in their lifetime. More than 200,000 men will be newly diagnosed in 2010. Sadly, nearly 30,000 men will die this year from Prostate Cancer.  The good news is that, when caught early, Prostate Cancer is nearly 100% curable.


Prostate Cancer awareness and early testing for the disease is the key to a successful recovery, or even prevention, of more serious and advanced cases of the disease. You can help spread the word about early detection and testing.


Please join me and Pints for Prostates at the Thomas Hooker Brewery in Bloomfield, CT for an evening fundraiser to help fight prostate cancer on Saturday, June 19th from 6:00pm to 8:30pm. Enjoy an evening of locally brewed craft beers from Thomas Hooker Brewing and great food from Sally's Black Eyed BBQ of Hartford, CT.  Those attending will also receive a Hooker Brewing pint glass.


Event tickets are $40 per person, and are available for purchase online by clicking the ticket below. All those attending must be 21 years of age or older, and must be able to present a valid I.D.


Proceeds from the event will help to benefit Us TOO International, an organization dedicated to providing support programs to prostate cancer patients and their families. Door prizes will be given away, "Pints for Prostates" t-shirts will be available for purchase, as well as raffle tickets for a chance to win a 3-night trip for two to the Great American Beer Festival in Denver, CO (prize valued at $2,500).  Raffle tickets are $10/each, or $25/for three tickets.

Our goal is not just to raise funds to help fight this silent disease, but to pass on important health information to men of how a simple blood test can help save their life. 

I hope you'll join Pints for Prostates in fighting prostate cancer. See you there!





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and now back to our program . . . . . 


OK, where was I?  Hang on  - let me scroll back up to see where I left off . . . . . .





Oh, yea - right . . . 




Janet and I met with my radiology oncologist on Tuesday regarding treatments moving forward.  (that's five doctors on my case now if you're keeping score) The situation is that with the advanced state of my cancer at the time of my surgery, and the high grade and aggressive strain I was diagnosed with, it is necessary to move forward with radiation treatments. (oh yeah!?)


First, I begin with about six weeks of hormone meds. As I've mentioned in an earlier posting, prostate cancer is fed by testosterone. The hormone meds are used to reduce the testosterone levels in order to put any cancer cells into basically a "dormant state". While in this dormant, or inactive state, the radiation should/will kill off the cancer cells that possibly still remain. Otherwise the radiation would have little or no affect on the cancer.


The full cycle of radiation treatments is going to be eight weeks - five days a week. I should be able to continue to work through the entire treatment, but I should expect to be feeling fatigued after a few weeks. The rest of the side effects should nothing more than annoying, but tolerable.

Through out the radiation treatments, and for another 30 to 60 days afterwards, I'll be continuing the hormone meds - again, in order to maintain the dormant state of the remaining cancer cells through out treatment.

You may be wondering if this will be the end of it. I certainly hope so. We will be keeping a positive outlook and attitude, but at the same time we need need to remain somewhat cautious. Due to the high grade of cancer I was diagnosed with, there is a possibility that the cancer will rear its head again over time. We have been told the radiation treatments will be somewhere between 50 and 60 percent effective in killing the remaining majority of the cancer cells. I'll take those odds.

So there you have it. I started the Casodex tablets last night, and will have my first 30-day injection of Lupron at the end of next week.  Once we know I'm able to tolerate the medication, I'll get another 60-day injection and then about a week later begin radiation.

My plan, and hope, is that I will be able to continue to work through out the eight weeks of treatments. I suspect that as I get into the latter weeks that fatigue may prevent me from doing full days and may need to stay home for a period of time.

So that's pretty much it for now.  I know it's a lot of information - and maybe more that most of you care to know. But, as you recall, this blog was all about sharing my experience that other men facing a new prostate cancer diagnosis will have a better understanding of possibly what to expect.

My true hope is that my experience will prompt my friends, relatives and anyone else that may find this blog to be tested for Prostate Cancer in their early 40's, even mid to late 30's if there's a history on the disease in their family.

Thanks again to all of you for stopping in and reading my ramblings.  My family and I appreciate all your support and prayers as I continue my fight.


Monday, April 5, 2010

Connecticut Pints for Prostates fund raising event is on!

I've now finalized the details for the event, and I am happy to announce that tickets are now available.  See the announcement and information below.

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Celebrate Father’s Day a little early and help fight prostate cancer. Bring Dad out and tell him you want him to get tested and stay healthy.
Thomas Hooker Brewing, located at 16 Tobey Road in Bloomfield, CT., is playing host to a Pints for Prostates fundraiser on Saturday, June 19 from 6:00pm - 8:30 pm

Enjoy a special tasting of fresh Thomas Hooker ales and lagers, along with great food from Hartford's Black Eyed Sally’s BBQ. All attendees also receive a great Thomas Hooker pint glass to take home.

Tickets are $40 and proceeds go to help fight prostate cancer. Tickets for the event are limited, and are now on sale online.  Just click the ticket below to order your ticket now.

Prostate cancer.  No Joke.  Get Tested.









Wednesday, March 17, 2010

It wasn't what I was hoping for . . . .

but I'm not entirely surprised. Just disappointed.

But first, let me say . . .  Happy St. Patrick's Day!
It's always interesting to be in midtown Manhattan on St. Patty's Day.  The bars open at 9:30am . . . .    the bag pipe bands queue up (and tune up) just outside our offices.  And the insanity goes on from there.

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The results of my MRI came back yesterday, and it seems as it there is an area of soft tissue near the area called the "prostate bed" that shows signs of additional cancer. Apparently it is a small area, but it is enough to concern the oncologist.

From my early understanding it's not a huge worry, but it certainly solidifies any questions regarding radiation treatment.

I am scheduled for two or three CTs and a bone scan on Monday to find out if there is any additional spread beyond the soft tissue involvement.  Based on my original scans back in September, there shouldn't be any thing to find.

Just another step in the process of getting this disease out of my life and moving forward.


Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Kind words can sometimes be difficut to fully accept . . .

Though most of us know, or have known, a family member or friend who has been diagnosed with cancer there's just no way of understanding the mindset of those who are still cancer "patients" striving to become cancer "survivors".

Words of support, love and caring are always appreciated. But, being on the receiving end of those words, it's not always as comforting as our friends and loved ones would dearly love them to be.

This is another in a series of articles from the NY Times' Dana Jennings as he discusses his treatment for prostate cancer. In this article, he reveals the thoughts from the receiving end of the kind and supportive words and clichés when cancer recovery becomes the topic of discussion.

 http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/15/with-cancer-lets-face-it-words-are-inadequate/

 

Monday, March 8, 2010

A thought for the day (week, month, life) . . .

I recently read this posting on the Rock Art Brewery web site, but I'm sure it's made it's way around the web a few million times. Though the posting states that the author is unknown, my gratitude goes out to him/her.

As a husband of 25 years, a father of 3 teenage sons, home brewing hobbyist, and a recent prostate cancer patient, I find this more than appropriate. It is certainly a good way to visualize one's outlook on life.


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"The Mayonnaise Jar, and Two Beers"

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous 'yes.'

The professor then produced two beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar - effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed. 'Now,' said the professor as the laughter subsided, 'I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.

The golf balls are the important things---your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.

The sand is everything else---the small stuff.

'If you put the sand into the jar first,' he continued, 'there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

'Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18 holes. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

Take care of the golf balls first---the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.'

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled and said, 'I'm glad you asked.' The beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of beers with a friend.'

- anonymous

Friday, March 5, 2010

The American Cancer Society & Prostate Cancer

A bit if deja vu - this time guys, it's us.
Last year the US Surgeon General made a statement regarding a change in policy about mammograms in the detection of breast cancer.  A statement that caused an uproar around the country after decades of trying to convince women that mammograms should be done regularly.

Now, the American Cancer Society has decided that men and prostate cancer were this year's target citing inconsistencies in accurate & early detection and improper treatment.
Pints for Prostates founder, and prostate cancer survivor, Rick Lyke posted a response to this announcement on the Pints for Prostates blog. Read it HERE.

Personally, as a prostate cancer patient who's cancer was initially indicated by the use of the simple PSA blood test, I find this statement by the ACS appauling.  Yes, as I have said many times before on this blog, there a numerous causes for an elevated PSA result leading to possible false positives.  But the PSA test is not the only defining factor in determining a prostate cancer diagnosis - just the initial red flag. No doctor ever decides to operate soley on a PSA test result.

An elevated PSA typically prompts a visit to a urologist who will discuss many possible factors in the result of the elevated PSA, including a relatively simple infection called "prostititis"  which can usually be treated with a two to three week course of antibiotics. But the investigation doesn't stop there. The doctor will perform a DRE (digital rectal exam) to determine if there is an indication of an enlarged, uneven, or possibly hardened prostate gland.  If this is found to be the case, a biopsy is performed, and you go on from there.

For I and many other prostate cancer patients I have met over the last 7 months since my diagnosis - it was our PSA test put us on this road to recovery and saving our lives.  These men ranged in age from 42 to 78.

While the community of men, their wives and family that face and live with the diagnosis are thankful it was caught because of a simple test - and are pressing for earlier testing, those that make policy that affects the potential patient(s) and the medical community trying to serve them seem to be headed in the wrong direction.  Their concern is that there is an increase in unnecessary treatment that in their eye is caused by a test that is inaccurate. My response, give the doctors a better test!  But don't cause a firestorm and perhaps give even more men yet another reason to not go to the doctor.

It was estimated that I had my cancer for as long as 10 years before it was detected at stage three by the PSA blood test.  How many other men out there won't do the test now because they are being told that it isn't always right.

I recently had an old college friend tell me that when he had an annual check-up and asked about a PSA test, the doctor told him "you're too young for that test.  It's not necessary."  Then he told the doctor about his college friend who, at the same age, had a very different experience.

Prostate Cancer is nearly 100% curable when caught early.  Men already face a 1 in 6 chance of developing prostate cancer in their lifetime. I have to now ask the ACS - "Why change the odds in finding it?"


CJP




Wednesday, March 3, 2010

News from the Oncology Dept.

I met with oncologist, Dr. Kampel, and we discussed my case and my recovery to date. He said that from what he saw of my test results and the post-surgical pathology report, he agreed with my surgeon that things went very well. The discussion then turned to the future expectations and future treatments.


As pleased as he was with everything, there are some concerns - things that I was pretty much aware of already.  Most likely there are micro-sized cancer cells that still remain in my system, as well as the possibilty of a small piece of the tumor having flaked off during surgery and the removal of the tumor. (in my head right now I hear Ahhhnold saying "it's not a tumah" from "Kindergarden Cop"). The concern here is that those cells may eventually find another home elsewhere and overtime begin to grow again.  The cycle of radiation treatment looks to be in my future after all . . .  bummer.


Recently, a friend of ours that lost her mother to cancer (breast cancer that cells eventually settled into the brain) mentioned something that the doctors had said . .  "You don't usually hear about women dying directly due to breast cancer.  It's usually that the cancer has reappeared elsewhere long after surgery."  This is pretty much what Dr. Kampel said about prostate cancer to me during our appointment. So on to the next step . . .


March 12th & 22nd I'll be spending the better part of my day(s) at MSKCC going through a new series of MRIs, CT and bone scans to see if there are any signs of 'squatter' cancer cells. Then on April 6th, I have appointments with all four of my doctors at MSKCC, Oncologist & Radiation Oncologist, surgeon and urologist - individually of course - and discuss how I'm doing and what's coming next and what I need to do before and during my radiation.

As odd as it sounds, I find cancer brings people together.  I have an old friend and colleague back in Massachusetts who was treated for breast cancer about three years ago and recently found that there is a golf ball sized tumor at the base of her skull.  Another gentleman who I met through my support group that just had his prostate cancer surgery on Feb 26th and is now home after a very successful surgery (also done by Dr. Guillonneau). 


On the news of cancer support causes, progress is being made on a Pints for Prostates fundraising/awareness event in Connecticut. Tickets will soon be available to order online, with location and time details coming soon once I've got final details ironed out to pass along. Just be sure to keep Saturday, June 19th open on your calendar.


Cheers!







Sunday, February 28, 2010

Slightly off topic . . .

As part of a marketing campaign by Toyota Racing, Toyota is sponsoring a contest where on a web site you can design your own paint job for a Toyota race car, and the winning design will be placed on a Toyota sponsored race car.


Pints for Prostates founder and North Carolina resident, Rick Lyke, entered a Pint for Prostates car design.  The design was removed from the entries by Toyota citing "inappropriate or offensive content". (see the entered design HERE)


There is still time for the Pints for Prostates ride to be part of the Toyota Sponsafy promotion and with your help we can make it happen. Please send a quick email to Kym Strong (kym_strong@toyota.com) of Toyota Motorsports and Greg Thome (greg_thome@toyota.com) of Toyota Corporate Communications. Use the subject line "Race the Pints for Prostates Car."


Below is the email I sent this morning:



Mr. Kym Strong & Mr. Greg Thome -

Recently I was informed that Toyota Racing has rejected the design of a "Pints for Prostates" car design through Toyota's "Sponsafy a Car" promotion because the design "contains offensive or inappropriate content". This is just yet another public relations mistake among many Toyota has made in recent months.

Pints for Prostates is an organization dedicated to raising awareness of the importance of early testing for, and detection of, prostate cancer in men by using the universal language of beer in order to reach out to men in a casual manner.  According to 2009 statistics, 1 in 6 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in their lifetime - odds that rival that of breast cancer in women.  In 2009, nearly 190,000 new cases of prostate cancer were diagnosed, and that approximately 27,000 men died because of the disease. Thanks to early detection and treatment, more than 2 million men in the United States alone that have been diagnosed with prostate cancer are still alive today. The goal of Pints for Prostates is to keep more men alive by getting them to recognize the importance of early detection.

At the age of 47, married with 3 sons, I was one of those men diagnosed with stage 3 prostate cancer. 

The only thing "offensive or inappropriate" is the short sightedness of your decision to not even consider the Pints for Prostates car design in your contest.  The selection of the PFP designed car would raise awareness of prostate cancer across the country and through out the auto racing community - a sport who's majority of team owners, competitors, crews, event participants, fans and spectators are men!

As a 4-time Toyota owner, a racing fan, and a prostate cancer patient - I respectfully request you to reconsider your decision. And, at the very least, let the cars' design be placed on the web site for public consideration - as well as your own.