There Are 8 Million Stories In The Naked City...

...and in the radiation/oncology unit, I'm hearing all of them...

I've just completed my first three radiation sessions (only 30 more to go!), and it's already a grind. Driving back and forth to work, the hospital and home, anxiously monitoring traffic conditions on the computer, and well, driving. I cannot stand being late so of course I end up being early, but that's OK. I can leisurely run up to the cafe upstairs and grab a pretty decent sandwich to take back to work for lunch. From there, I check in and let myself into the locker room to change out of my clothes and into my hospital gown. Since my lower parts are getting basted, I have to remove pants and underwear. Shirts and socks and shoes are OK. It's a great look.

From there, I go into a small waiting room with 3 chairs opposite 3 more chairs. There is room enough for the chosen ones to walk through to either get to the locker room or the radiation room. When it's your time, the techs come and get you. It's an efficient system, with usually not much actual waiting..if one was not so compulsively early!

Part of being a reasonable and good person is to reach out and listen with a sympathetic ear to people that feel the need to tell you their story. Unfortunately, in this case, it is their cancer story. But in this club, you are also asked (and compelled) to tell your cancer story whether you feel like it or not.

My first story was from a kind and gentle man with colorectal cancer. It was his last session of his 6 weeks of radiation treatments. His surgery is coming later. He looked pretty good and had a nice, sweet smile. After he told me his story, I paused, not yet sure of the cancer club protocol, and after a few seconds he asked me what my particular problem was. I told him. It wasn't a natural progression of bonding, but there it was, and we did.

He was called for and went off for his treatment, and another man entered the waiting room. Disheveled and on crutches, he sat next to me and mentioned I must be new here because he had not seen me before. This was his last week of treatments, so I am definitely the new guy in the club.

After he told me the story of his crutches (a 40 year old motorcycle accident), he started telling me of his lung cancer. Since he didn't bother to close the back of his gown, I could plainly see a large radiation sunburn on his back, roughly where his bad lung was. It's actually only half a lung at this point, I learned. The other half was removed 2 and 1/2 years ago.

He then told me of how painful it is to swallow, but he has a numbing liquid, the viscosity of "shampoo", that helps somewhat as long as he pulverises each bite of food he takes.

At this point I started to freak out. Not on the outside - I was listening, commenting and really feeling empathy for this poor guy, but on the inside, deep within my soul I was was screaming; Nooooooooo!!!!

I don't want to hear these stories. I don't want to feel pressured to tell my story. This is my fucking cancer and I want to deal with it on my fucking terms. Leave me the hell alone!

Lung cancer man was then called for and I wished him well. Colorectal cancer guy came out of his session and a very humorless nurse presented him with a certificate of completion! Good Lord. I was wondering if you get a souvenir. The sweet man took it and gave me a quick glance and smile and then asked the nurse, "Does this mean I'm cured?"

I was a bit shocked when she matter of factly replied, "No. It just means you have completed he radiation treatment".

This is when I realized what my purpose is, here in the Cancer Ward. I reached up and touched the man on his shoulder and with a shit eating grin told him and the nurse, "Man...that's a loaded question!"

It worked. Both laughed.

He turned towards me and held out his hand and wished me luck. I returned his handshake with well wishes of my own, and I really meant it. I now understand. While I don't want to be in this club, I am. They don't want to be here, either. We are going through terrible shit, and like it or not we're going through it together. We are going through it for one reason and one reason only - we want to continue living. And what is living, true living, for other than to help one another through the hard times? Those times are here, and now I feel I have place in the cancer ward. Levity. It's not much, but I think it can certainly help my new friends.

So whoever I meet next, be it bladder cancer guy, thyroid cancer guy, or brain cancer guy - nice to meet you. I am prostate cancer guy.

Like I said, there are 8 million stories in this Naked City, and I'm hearing all of them. But with no pants or underwear on.

Inked!

I have wanted a tattoo for most of my adult life, but to this day I just cannot think of what I want the tattoo to be of. I have a few ideas, but eventually I guess I will need to just take the concept to the tattoo artist and let him do his thing. The tattoo you are looking at is indeed a tattoo and it is mine, but this is not what I had in mind! It's a cancer tattoo and I now sport 3 of 'em! One on each hip and one on the front, about 5 inches below my belly button. The tattoo is the little black dot in the center of the drawn on lines. It's purpose is to insure they align and target the radiation accurately every session. Ink! Tribal!

Today, Stacey and I met with the oncologist/radiologist nurse for information about what I can expect during this part of the treatment. He was very nice, soft spoken and earnest, and I couldn't help but notice that was also really good looking. I was sure Stacey was thinking that too, but I just hope she was listening to what he was saying because my mind tends to....wander...when I have to listen to important stuff like this.

He mentioned the most common side effects: burning urination, diarrhea, unhappy skin and tiredness (and you thought we were done with pee/fart & poo talk!). Hopefully the tiredness will not rear it's ugly head well into the treatment. He also gave us pamphlets and support group info (unfortunately, thanks to one of the pamphlets, I learned that my cancer is considered Phase 3, with Phase 4 being the worst. Damn! Printed matter freaks me out!). He showed me the changing rooms and lockers that I will be using everyday, along with I.D protocol which as you can imagine is very important. Don't want someone else's radiation treatment for say...brain cancer!

He also talked about the scheduling, which I was concerned about. It would be best if I could get early mornings or late afternoons to help cut down on my travelling between work (Marin County) and the treatments (Oakland), but he showed me the daily list of radiation treatments this particular center gives and I was astounded. About 5 pages of a list of names in pretty small print. There are a lot of people getting these treatments.

After the orientation, I was off to get a cat scan of my pelvic region. This is to help them map out where they want the radiation to be administered to. I met the 2 techs (that I will definitely get to know over the course of 6 weeks!) and they explained a bit more about all of this.

There was a bag type thing that they positioned under my legs, once I was laying on the cat scan table. After they positioned me, they inflated the bag and it formed a mold of the backs of my legs. This is another method of achieving accuracy in targeting the beams of radiation. Every session it will be put under my legs to hold me in the correct position. Then, with the guidance of laser beams, they started to mark my body with markers. Once they were satisfied with that, they put a drop of ink on the 3 specific areas and poked it into my skin with a quick needle prick.

That was that. Got my tat. Oh yeah...this clinic also provides valet parking. I'm so....Dennis Rodman!

Next Friday I go in for a x-ray and weigh-in. The Monday after that, I begin the radiation. Talk to you then!

Next Stop - Radiology!

Well now....I've been feeling absolutely great for the most part these last several weeks, but now it's time to go back to the hospital and start feeling crappy again... Nice!

Next week Phase 546 begins of my cancer treatment: Radiation Therapy! Can you tell how excited I am? Not. Whatever - time to blast those rogue (Palin-like) cancer cells that are still partying around my nether regions. I am so not looking forward to it. Maybe even more than the surgery. That was something finite - an event that would happen and then be over, with allowances for recovery, of course, but in the weeks leading up to it I just sort of accepted it, cussed at it, but didn't really dread it.

Not so with this, though. It just seems so... unrelenting. A radioactive blast everyday, Monday through Friday for about 6 weeks. The possibility of the return of very unattractive side effects. Cumulative wiped out-ness. And a whole bunch of unknown thrown in for good measure. More work hours to be reduced and more paperwork for benefits. More, more, more.

The hormone treatment hasn't been bad, though. The hot flashes are seldom and mild, but my emotional state has fallen to a pretty permanent state of crankiness. I'm a son of a bitch right now, but I guess that's to be expected. Grrrr.

But with all that being said, I will get this done. Not much choice in the matter if I don't want this particular disease to do me in. I will do it with Stacey's help. I will do it with support from my sibs. I will do it with love in my heart from all of my friends, close and distant. But most of all, I will do it because I Am Atomic Man.

So there.

Excuse Me????

Well...this is a bit bizarre...Some doctor did some study of guys that had the same procedure as me, and discovered that robotic/laproscopic surgery to remove the prostate is more likely to result in erectile dysfunction and incontinence. Nice. I was told by the head of the urology department and my surgeon the opposite. I believe them. Not this guy. And I'm fine with my decision. Makes sense to me that high magnification and robotically controlled instruments would be much more effective in sparing those gosh darned nerves, then having your belly sliced open and putting your faith in the shaky hands of a hungover surgeon....just kidding.

Really...I'm good. But this is still bizarre.

naysayers of robotically assisted prostate surgery

(Hot) Flash Report!

Ok - it's been over a week since my Lupron injection and about the only thing to report is general tiredness (at times pretty extreme) and headaches (not too bad). It has made me miss some work hours and the thought of adding radiation treatments to the mix is a bit depressing.

No signs of hot flashes yet, bigger boobs, or my inner girl busting out. I'm on the lookout, though!

I'm just tired.

Lack of male hormones can contribute to loss of muscle mass, so I'm taking calcium supplements and going through some reps with 10 lb. weights. If I get bigger boobs, they will at least be...firm!

Jesus! I think I don't like Led Zeppelin's "Physical Graffiti"!

A: Don't Pay Her.

Q: How do you make a hormone?

Creepy. My hormone therapy starts this week and I'm feeling creeped out about it. It gets creepier, too. There's just something so unnatural about what my body is getting ready to go through. There could bizarre side effects (most common) and crazy out of this world bizarre side effects (not so common). As mentioned last time, most likely I'll lose even more sex drive and have hot flashes. The hormone therapy expert called me and explained the whole deal to me. She also warned me to not read the uncommon side effects in the literature she sent me. I peeked and wish I hadn't. Trust the experts!

Now, yet another Gil Ray Special Curveball has been thrown at me. While the hormone therapy drug (Lupron) is being used to suppress testosterone level, oddly, upon the initial injection, my body will want to flood itself with testosterone! Not good. So tomorrow I start taking another drug to reduce that event. Fortunately just a total of 6 tablets.

I just get the feeling I'm not going to feel like myself (for better or for worse) for about 6 months. Maybe it will not be so bad - I'm willing to accept tolerable! We'll see.

Weird. Strange. Uncanny.

And definitely creepy.

But I got to keep looking at big picture. If all goes well, I'll be able to look back at these coming 6 months and wonder what all the fuss was about. Ahhh...good times!

Glow Worm

Ok - back to the grind! I almost forgot that I have cancer....

Today, my wife and I had our initial consultation with the Radiation Oncologist in Oakland. My surgery was over 2 months ago, and now it's time to deal with Phase 2 of the cure.

Unfortunately, my PSA's "undetectable" number of .1 will have nothing to do as far as the radiation treatment is concerned. The fact that my Gleason Grade got upgraded to a "7" after my surgery lab-work is the number that is driving the rest of my treatment. Not unexpected, but still a bummer.

I continue to be impressed with each new doctor I see - the oncologist methodically and deliberately recapped my whole prostate history. It's a great sign that my health care providers are all on the same page and I really feel they are doing their best in achieving good results for me. My super smart brother reinforces this, but there was a bit of a curve ball thrown in the mix today, that was briefly mentioned at some consultation, with some doctor, many months ago: hormone therapy!

Here's the deal - later this week I will get an injection of a drug that will suppress my testosterone levels. How dare they! Don't they know that at work I am known (at least by one crazed woman from El Salvador) as El Toro!

Actually, The Bull is humbled and now knows that testosterone can promote prostate cells to grow which in The Bull's case is something to be avoided while they blast away at my prostate...area...with beams of radiation.

The common side effects of this drug are two things: Reduction of sexual libido (at this point I almost burst out laughing), and possible hot flashes similar to what women go through during menopause (at that point, Stacey almost burst out laughing). Fine. Whatever.

2 months after this injection, I will start the radiation therapy. The scary thing is that we know way too many people going through stuff like this, so I was not surprised to learn that my radiation will be roughly one 15 minute session a day (Monday - Friday) for about 6 weeks. 34 sessions. Fuck. But El Toro can handle this. I also learned that my 30 year quest for getting a tattoo will soon be over! While not a very exciting or colorful tat, I will have 4 dots tattooed on various parts of my abdomen to help guide the targeting of the radiation. Cool. Ironic, but cool.


The main side effects of the radiation could be even more bladder/catheter fun, possible rectal bleeding and diarrhea. Since I seem to possess the world's tightest bladder sphincter, retention could very well be in the cards, but again, I am El Toro.

During all of this there could be one or two more injections of the hormone suppressant, with a final dose at the end of the radiation. If all goes as planned, I'll be done in 6 months.

Now I have 3 doctors telling me that even with the creepily consistent...curve balls that seem to keep coming my way, my prognosis is till very good. It's just getting there that sucks, but like I said, at this point, El Toro can deal.