Thursday, August 21, 2008
The C Word
Today is 21/11/08. In just under 2 weeks I will be undergoing Brachytheraphy treatment for my Prostate Cancer.
So, here is the start of the journey: This first entry to this blog was written exactly 3 months ago on August 21 - reading it now takes me back to the extreme roller coaster ride this journey has been. Much of it is pathetic - a case of me not handling things too well, but to serve my memory in the future I have chosen not to edit any of what follows. Today, I am ready - strong and positive and ready to start my 6 months or so of internal radiation and drug thereapy - and looking forward to nailing this thing by May 2009.
It’s a big day, that day, the one when you find out you have cancer.
Next on the agenda, MRI’s, injections of radioactive isotopes, bone scans and a million x-rays and ultrasounds. And the implantation of radioactive seeds.
Then you wait, to find out where it has spread, or if it has spread really. My wait started on Wednesday and I won’t know until 8.40am next Wednesday just what my actual status is. I am trying real hard to be strong but it is fucking hard. It is fucking hard. I was big and ugly and bullet proof and this wasn’t meant to happen to me.
The waiting.
The waiting sucks. Have I? Haven’t I? Will I? Won’t I?
In some ways though, unusually, it is a good time for me, I have reflected much and have learned the true value of life, for the first time in my life I think. Ironic huh?
28:08:08
Ok, well that would have to be one of the toughest weeks of my life. Up and down and turned around; all over the place, emotions on spin cycle.
But, yesterday at 8.40 am (following six hours of X-rays, scans and MRI) I got the news that the cancer has not spread. Wow, was that ever a load off. Huge sighs of relief and a feeling of elation all day.
It is very strange to feel ‘elation’ when you have just been told you have cancer. But when you are expecting additional cancers, it is really good news, I assure you.
Last night was my first decent sleep for a while.
Sidebar: Have you ever had an MRI? That is quite a ride man, like being trapped in a sub bin at a drum and bass gig! They let you play a CD of your choice while you are in the chamber but you can hardly hear it. It was nice though, that the nurses wanted to burn a copy of my MRI mix, they enjoyed it so much.
So anyway, now, I can see my enemy. I know what I’m up against.
And I know I can beat it.
The path ahead is quite clear now, the journey has been revealed.
From here I get another ultrasound and fitted out with radiation ‘seeds’. This is a very successful treatment option and the seeds are actually tailor made for your shape of gland, at a nuclear facility in America. How cool is that?
And really, I am expecting recovery 6 months after treatment begins (need to check this out, not entirely sure how long the radiation process takes). I’m sure a few surprises await but I am ready for them.
Here in New Zealand, hundreds of men die each year from this cancer. But they don’t need to; caught early this is probably the most treatable cancer of all. Sadly, the ‘hundreds that die’ are not enough to warrant a campaign. While I accept that more men die with this, than from it, I think it does warrant a media campaign to ensure guys over 35 get an annual check. We see plenty of TV ads promoting breast and cervical screening, so why not promote prostate checks.
There is one big hurdle for men too – most men (including myself a few months ago) think that checking means an internal inspection and that puts them off. Jokes about taking a bottle of chardonnay and a Romance Hits compilation CD to the appointment abound which don’t help. Men just don’t go.
Actually, it doesn’t mean internal inspection of any kind. Initial testing is as simple as a blood test. And It is time men were told that, en masse, via a media campaign. (There is a great idea here too for a telly ad, we could have a lot of fun with this, and why not? Why the fuck not?).
As the book title says, cancer is a word, not a sentence. This is very true for prostate cancer. It’s a blood test. A simple fucking blood test.
01:09:08
The first day of spring. The sun is out. Everyone seems happier.
The waiting is getting to me now. The second specialist who will be working with my surgeon to implant the radiation seeds into my tumours is on holiday in Europe. I can't see him until October 3rd. My surgeon says not to worry, but you cant help it. I want to get on this this asap. Not sure how long it will take to get treatment underway after October 3rd but I think I may have to extend my timeline to overcome this problem.
I understand that the biggest problem with this is, perhaps, the word 'cancer'. As soon as you hear the word cancer it automatically speaks 'terminal'. We need a new word I think. 'Inconvenience' perhaps?
‘I am suffering an inconvenience’ carries a lot less drama, fewer implications.
08:09:08
Had a nice meeting with my GP – a mate really – who first did the PSA blood test and caught my cancer reasonably early. It has dawned on me that with these aggressive tumours (and no symptoms whatsoever) this could have been missed for another two years or so. Had that been the case, the prognosis would have been very different.
I thanked him, Denis, for saving my life. It was a nice moment. We smiled.
Have decided to stop getting munted so much. I figure that the healthier I am when I go into treatment, the better I will come out of it.
03:10:08
Wow, I am feeling so good, so positive.
Met the A team today - the gang of 4 who are going to cure me.
Two more 'procedures' in the next couple of weeks.
90 - 100 Brachytherapy (radioactive) seeds will be implanted in December. And some drugs for about 6 weeks (This will be my 'feeling sick time' - unfortunately the drugs do have this as a side effect).
03:11:08
Up and down, the rollercoaster ride continues.
Had my volume study last week - a fairly humiliatiing process involving stirrups, where the measure you up for the seeds.
It's weird how the penis goes into protection mode when 3 women and 2 guys are looking at your bits under ultra bright lighting. It behaves like it is a really cold day. Honestly, it looked like an acorn in a birds nest! I don't think any of the nurses will go out with me eh. ;-)
Strangely, this was my biggest concern with this procedure. Possibly due to the fact that I managed to con the aneasthetist into a double hit of the good stuff. Man, I was so out of it. It was nice of him to oblige.
09/12/08
Everything is different. 96 Radioactive seeds have now been planted and whatever the next 6 months hold, I am now looking forward to a full recovery - cancer free by 04/06/09. Success rate is 85% +, so confidence is high.
The operation went well, I'm told.
Felt great for two days after the op. Crashed on day 3. Came into work today to clear emails and delegate but off home soon to a movie. Right now am in some pain, not too bad really - but feel like I have a heavy flu; a bit depressed. Not sure if it is side effects from drugs, or simply my body reacting to everything. Not concerned, I will ride through whatever is thrown at me - each day is one day closer to a full recovery. :-)
The operation was like being abducted by aliens. Wow, 8 people in theatre. Radiation protection masks, panels and stuff. Probes. Green stuff. It really did resemble one of those alien abduction recreations you see on (American) tv programmes.
They gave me a glass of wine that night.
OK, off home now. To rest.
And mark off one more day. :-)
28:05:09
Today I heard the magic word.
I cannot ever expain how much weight came off my shoulders when I heard the word remission.
Cancer free. And, at last, I can stop taking those dreadful meds.
Ever laughed and cried at the same time?
It is, truly, the ultimate cocktail of emotions.
Done. It ain't about me any more. It's time to payback the love and support I have had from my wonderful - truly wonderful - family and friends.
True that.
So, here is the start of the journey: This first entry to this blog was written exactly 3 months ago on August 21 - reading it now takes me back to the extreme roller coaster ride this journey has been. Much of it is pathetic - a case of me not handling things too well, but to serve my memory in the future I have chosen not to edit any of what follows. Today, I am ready - strong and positive and ready to start my 6 months or so of internal radiation and drug thereapy - and looking forward to nailing this thing by May 2009.
It’s a big day, that day, the one when you find out you have cancer.
Next on the agenda, MRI’s, injections of radioactive isotopes, bone scans and a million x-rays and ultrasounds. And the implantation of radioactive seeds.
Then you wait, to find out where it has spread, or if it has spread really. My wait started on Wednesday and I won’t know until 8.40am next Wednesday just what my actual status is. I am trying real hard to be strong but it is fucking hard. It is fucking hard. I was big and ugly and bullet proof and this wasn’t meant to happen to me.
The waiting.
The waiting sucks. Have I? Haven’t I? Will I? Won’t I?
In some ways though, unusually, it is a good time for me, I have reflected much and have learned the true value of life, for the first time in my life I think. Ironic huh?
28:08:08
Ok, well that would have to be one of the toughest weeks of my life. Up and down and turned around; all over the place, emotions on spin cycle.
But, yesterday at 8.40 am (following six hours of X-rays, scans and MRI) I got the news that the cancer has not spread. Wow, was that ever a load off. Huge sighs of relief and a feeling of elation all day.
It is very strange to feel ‘elation’ when you have just been told you have cancer. But when you are expecting additional cancers, it is really good news, I assure you.
Last night was my first decent sleep for a while.
Sidebar: Have you ever had an MRI? That is quite a ride man, like being trapped in a sub bin at a drum and bass gig! They let you play a CD of your choice while you are in the chamber but you can hardly hear it. It was nice though, that the nurses wanted to burn a copy of my MRI mix, they enjoyed it so much.
So anyway, now, I can see my enemy. I know what I’m up against.
And I know I can beat it.
The path ahead is quite clear now, the journey has been revealed.
From here I get another ultrasound and fitted out with radiation ‘seeds’. This is a very successful treatment option and the seeds are actually tailor made for your shape of gland, at a nuclear facility in America. How cool is that?
And really, I am expecting recovery 6 months after treatment begins (need to check this out, not entirely sure how long the radiation process takes). I’m sure a few surprises await but I am ready for them.
Here in New Zealand, hundreds of men die each year from this cancer. But they don’t need to; caught early this is probably the most treatable cancer of all. Sadly, the ‘hundreds that die’ are not enough to warrant a campaign. While I accept that more men die with this, than from it, I think it does warrant a media campaign to ensure guys over 35 get an annual check. We see plenty of TV ads promoting breast and cervical screening, so why not promote prostate checks.
There is one big hurdle for men too – most men (including myself a few months ago) think that checking means an internal inspection and that puts them off. Jokes about taking a bottle of chardonnay and a Romance Hits compilation CD to the appointment abound which don’t help. Men just don’t go.
Actually, it doesn’t mean internal inspection of any kind. Initial testing is as simple as a blood test. And It is time men were told that, en masse, via a media campaign. (There is a great idea here too for a telly ad, we could have a lot of fun with this, and why not? Why the fuck not?).
As the book title says, cancer is a word, not a sentence. This is very true for prostate cancer. It’s a blood test. A simple fucking blood test.
01:09:08
The first day of spring. The sun is out. Everyone seems happier.
The waiting is getting to me now. The second specialist who will be working with my surgeon to implant the radiation seeds into my tumours is on holiday in Europe. I can't see him until October 3rd. My surgeon says not to worry, but you cant help it. I want to get on this this asap. Not sure how long it will take to get treatment underway after October 3rd but I think I may have to extend my timeline to overcome this problem.
I understand that the biggest problem with this is, perhaps, the word 'cancer'. As soon as you hear the word cancer it automatically speaks 'terminal'. We need a new word I think. 'Inconvenience' perhaps?
‘I am suffering an inconvenience’ carries a lot less drama, fewer implications.
08:09:08
Had a nice meeting with my GP – a mate really – who first did the PSA blood test and caught my cancer reasonably early. It has dawned on me that with these aggressive tumours (and no symptoms whatsoever) this could have been missed for another two years or so. Had that been the case, the prognosis would have been very different.
I thanked him, Denis, for saving my life. It was a nice moment. We smiled.
Have decided to stop getting munted so much. I figure that the healthier I am when I go into treatment, the better I will come out of it.
03:10:08
Wow, I am feeling so good, so positive.
Met the A team today - the gang of 4 who are going to cure me.
Two more 'procedures' in the next couple of weeks.
90 - 100 Brachytherapy (radioactive) seeds will be implanted in December. And some drugs for about 6 weeks (This will be my 'feeling sick time' - unfortunately the drugs do have this as a side effect).
03:11:08
Up and down, the rollercoaster ride continues.
Had my volume study last week - a fairly humiliatiing process involving stirrups, where the measure you up for the seeds.
It's weird how the penis goes into protection mode when 3 women and 2 guys are looking at your bits under ultra bright lighting. It behaves like it is a really cold day. Honestly, it looked like an acorn in a birds nest! I don't think any of the nurses will go out with me eh. ;-)
Strangely, this was my biggest concern with this procedure. Possibly due to the fact that I managed to con the aneasthetist into a double hit of the good stuff. Man, I was so out of it. It was nice of him to oblige.
09/12/08
Everything is different. 96 Radioactive seeds have now been planted and whatever the next 6 months hold, I am now looking forward to a full recovery - cancer free by 04/06/09. Success rate is 85% +, so confidence is high.
The operation went well, I'm told.
Felt great for two days after the op. Crashed on day 3. Came into work today to clear emails and delegate but off home soon to a movie. Right now am in some pain, not too bad really - but feel like I have a heavy flu; a bit depressed. Not sure if it is side effects from drugs, or simply my body reacting to everything. Not concerned, I will ride through whatever is thrown at me - each day is one day closer to a full recovery. :-)
The operation was like being abducted by aliens. Wow, 8 people in theatre. Radiation protection masks, panels and stuff. Probes. Green stuff. It really did resemble one of those alien abduction recreations you see on (American) tv programmes.
They gave me a glass of wine that night.
OK, off home now. To rest.
And mark off one more day. :-)
28:05:09
Today I heard the magic word.
I cannot ever expain how much weight came off my shoulders when I heard the word remission.
Cancer free. And, at last, I can stop taking those dreadful meds.
Ever laughed and cried at the same time?
It is, truly, the ultimate cocktail of emotions.
Done. It ain't about me any more. It's time to payback the love and support I have had from my wonderful - truly wonderful - family and friends.
True that.
