"Cancer sucks my friends! It alters your life, your feelings, your goals, your priorities in a way that no one can understand unless you have experienced it first hand. Maybe not all bad! But just when you had a plan for the next 30 years - the plan changed, and you had nothing to say about it!"
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A fellow prostate cancer patient from Pennsylvania, someone I met through a Facebook cancer discussion group, yesterday completed his radiation treatments. "Fred" wrote the above statement a number of months back. He's right.
Fred and I have talked about our situations, and shared some of the hatred we have for this disease - as well as supported each other through this rocky road. Prostate cancer patients develop a brotherhood over a period of time. It doesn't matter what your age is, or how early you found out about your cancer. The harsh reality is that it really does "suck"!
Like any cancer diagnosis, your life changes in an instant. The words alone can cut into your heart like a dagger. This isn't a disease that only affects the patient physically - it can affect every aspect of your life. That's the part that people don't always understand.
My wife sat next to me the day I got the results of my biopsy - "the long talk" as the staff at my urologists' office referred to it. We did the best we could to hold back the shock and tears - until we walked out of the doctor's offices. She collapsed into my arms sobbing as soon as the door closed behind us.
It's now been almost two years since that day. My operation in October '09 was a "success" in the sense of removing the tumorous prostate gland, multiple nerve bundles, twenty lymph nodes and some surrounding tissue that had been affected. My PSA levels have been great. I spent last summer undergoing daily radiation treatments and trying to adjust to body chemistry changes thanks to the ADT hormone therapy I was also undergoing. Trust me, it made for a interesting summer.
It looks pretty simple on the screen, doesn't it.
What it comes down to is this; I'm doing what the doctors have told me I need to be doing to increase my chances of beating this cancer. That's not something I take lightly, nor is it something that is run of the mill.
My friends and former co-workers know I have this fight ahead of me. They offer their support and on occasion ask how I'm doing. "Fine", "Hanging in there", "Fighting the good fight", "Being where I'm supposed to be, when I'm supposed to be there" are my typical standard answers. But I'm not always "fine". This sucks more than anyone of them can know.
Sure, I am very fortunate to have what looks to be a very good prognosis and things could be a whole lot worse - for that I am very blessed and grateful. But as a cancer patient in "remission" (or whatever label you want to put on it), every little "different sensation" you feel get you wondering if it's coming back. I had no symptoms when I was first diagnosed, so how the heck am I supposed to tell whether or not something I feel or sense is an indication of a return?
Many advanced stage prostate cancer patients who develop metastatic cancer begin to experience pelvic or lower back pain. I've had back issues in the past (for many years), so when I have issue with my lower back now and it feels "different" than other times, my mind starts to wander a bit.
I really have no hard reason to worry that it could be the cancer coming back, it's just one of those things you think about as someone who has been diagnosed with the disease.
The pre-test anxiety level is beginning to return a bit. In two weeks I meet with my medical and radiation oncologists at Sloan-Kettering for the first time since March and December respectfully. It will be the first blood work I've had done in five months. I certainly don't expect anything to have changed, but I've had plenty of surprises and always need to be prepared for what ever comes along.
Thanks again to those that are still following along with this blog. I appreciate your support and friendship.
Cheers!
Chris
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