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.

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

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!

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!

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

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.

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.