It has been 4 days now since I found out that I have a small amount of cancer on the right side of my prostate. My father was diagnosed with the same thing over a year ago so I had some insight into the disease even before being diagnosed myself. Its a very different animal though when the sights are aimed at you. My mother was diagnosed with melanoma cancer twice and ultimately died of lung cancer. I remember wondering what it must have been like to be the involved person in that room with the doctor when advised that you have cancer. Well, I don't have to wonder about that anymore do I.
Let me start at the beginning. My primary care physician (PCP) became concerned in July 2011 after 2 consecutive blood tests returned with PSA (prostate specific antigen) levels of 4.5. The normal results for a healthy male should be under 4.0. My PCP sent me to see an expert in the field, a urologist. After reviewing my chart, family history and a bit of a finger waggle, he sat down and gave me a very good, but brief, history of PSA and what that number really means. He also told me in no uncertain terms what that number meant to me. With my dad's prostate history and my current numbers, he advised me to consider a biopsy of my prostate. He said at the least it would give me some baseline numbers that could be valuable in the future. I concurred with the doctor's assessment and agreed that it could wait until I returned from my upcoming trip to Alaska.
We returned from Alaska on August 17th and my biopsy was scheduled for 0830 on September 14th. I contracted an infection and went down hard with flu-like symptoms. I had to leave work early on Sunday, September 18th. I got home at about 1500, went straight to bed and stayed there for the next 17 hours. The only time I was up was to go to the bathroom to urinate. I had to go frequently but could only go a small amount, less that a cupful. Urinating was being accompanied by an intense burning sensation that was very very uncomfortable. I called my urologist on Monday to advise him of the infection and he had me go in to give a urine sample and to get some wide spectrum antibiotics. By Tuesday morning I was feeling better and was able to be up and about for short periods. My urologist called me late in the afternoon on Tuesday and inquired as to whether the antibiotics were having an effect. This is when he also broke the news that the results of my biopsy were back and that I did have "a small amount of cancer on the right side of my prostate".
That was a very surreal moment for me. We made an appointment for CJ and I to see him the following morning at 0830 at his Madison office. After I hung up the phone with him I remember just standing there in stunned silence. I was so very sure that the biopsy results would be negative that I was completely taken off guard. Rarely in my 52 years on this planet have I been shaken to the very core of my existence. This was one of those times, and in spades. A cold feeling settled over me. Fear and dread. When I got off the phone, CJ and the "kids" were standing on the other side of the room doing something though I couldn't say for sure exactly what. I looked at CJ and the situation must have shone clearly on my face because I'm sure she knew what I had to say even before I told her. When I did quietly tell her she quickly walked outside with me directly behind. Her eyes were filled with tears and as always that hurt me more that anything. I told her and she fell into my arms and I almost lost what little control I still had left in my own emotions. I fought back my own tears because, well, because that is what I do. I was raised in the American Southwest, a world in which men do not cry and do not let loose with their emotions. I reassured her (and me) that this was NOT a death sentence (as it had been for my mother) and that we had detected the cancer very early and that I stood a very good chance of a full recovery. Didn't matter what was said or by who, we were both in shock and not ready to move forward yet. We just stood there for a few seconds holding each other. I was afraid to let her go and look at her because I was very close to a complete emotional systems failure. After several minutes we pulled it together and went back inside to tell the kids what was going on.
The next day would be a day of information gathering.
Norse Prayer for Battle and Burial RitesLo there do I see my father. Lo there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers. Lo there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me, they bid me take my place among them, in the Halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live...forever.
