Eradication Effort

Just when you think 2020 has exhausted its supply of animus and think we’re over the worst, it delivers another groin kick. I was debating whether to write about this or not but writing in Frail Deeds is akin to therapy for me, so here goes. I have prostate cancer. It’s been a mildly stressful last 45 days or so, especially since I’m so cut off from family and friends in Pandemia. It all started with a visit to my primary care provider for a mid-year checkup. He was concerned about my PSA level in last year’s physical and we did another blood test to find it had climbed again in the six months since the last one. I got more concerned when he said it was critical that I get into see a urologist immediately. One of those things that make you go, “Hmmmm?”.

This is where it gets weird because I misunderstood the doctor as he explained to me over the phone what he suspected. AIl I heard was potential cancer in something that began with “P”. I thought for three days I had pancreatic cancer, which is a veritable death sentence. I was literally putting affairs in order when I stopped researching pancreatic cancer and looked up PSA counts. I realized I’d been a daft idiot and what the docs were concerned about was prostate cancer which is very curable. It still wasn’t a whole lot of fun to confront but life doesn’t always follow chosen courses, especially in 2020.

I was referred to a very experienced urologist who walked me through the next steps. The first was another digital exam (not fun) and then a full-blown MRI followed by a biopsy. The MRI lasted about forty minutes as they focused on my nether regions. They provided ear phones and played a 70s music channel. I was already nervous about the whole potential cancer diagnosis when the first song that came on was “Last Dance” I got even more so. It was as if the cosmos was trying to tell me something, or just mess with my calm.

The MRI revealed an area of concern which would be specifically targeted in the biopsy. The biopsy was a real experience. After I dropped trou and was positioned in the most awkward position possible they backed a Volkswagen sized machine up to my butt and told me to take a deep breath. At some point the doctor entered and talked me through what he was doing back there. I did not see him in person for the entire time. It was a blessing I couldn’t see what was going on back there but they did provide a full sized television screen directly in front of me as the various probes did their work. As usual the only pain was the injecting the drugs to prevent pain, it did provide some heretofore un-experienced sensations; less said about that the better.

I then had a wait a week to find out the results. He called late last week to say of the 14 sites they biopsied (14!!!) four came back as positive for cancer. The good news was nothing looked to have spread and they had caught it in the early stages. After some extensive reading while awaiting results I thought I was firmly in the “monitor only” group. I even texted Keene Friend that I had cancer but not the bad kind. The doctor scheduled a call with me for last night where he went over the results in detail with me.

It turns out I wasn’t as lucky as I thought. He said I was in transition from the lowest risk group to the intermediate risk group which meant the prostate should be removed. He did a great job of explaining the options which basically come down to surgery or radiation. Both are equally effective but with different side effects. My first inclination was to go with surgery because I wanted this stuff out of me. I discussed this with my Favorite Panamanian as well as my kids and Great Aunt (the resident family medical expert). The final decision is to have the surgery, probably in late September.

This is What the Procedure Looks Like
I'll be the Guy Lying Down

This means September will be a month to remember with both two bouts of Mohs surgery followed by what the doctor said was a robotic assisted laparoscopic radical prostatectomy. Biopsies have not been my friend lately. Oh and did I mention I also have a couple dentist appointments that we moved to September to be after our New Jersey visit. The doctor said I was “lucky” because of the progress made over the last fifteen years with this procedure. I’ll only be in the hospital one night and have a fairly quick return to normal activities (including beer drinking and yes, I did ask). So that’s the wierd ride I’ve been on over the past couple months. I’m glad to know, glad to have caught it early, glad that it’s very curable, and glad that I’ll never have to have another digital rectal exam again during annual physicals. Thanks for listening.

 

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RECURRING CHARACTERS                                           

BR3 – granddaughter #3, BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel - second granddaughter; FBR - First Blog Reader - first granddaughter, ABFA – Amazing Best Family Athlete = my daughter in law; Wingman – my son in law; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Soxfather - my brother in law; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; Pittsburgh College Roommate – high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my wife is the 3^rd musquetera (musketeer); Riggins - also known as the Grandpuppy, son's dog; PanaGals – female relatives/friends of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we have lived & their spouses; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia member, Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of course); First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Curbside Girls – close friends of my daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn