Still a ZERO

I have not posted in a while, so I want to let everyone know my July 10 PSA test came back a ZERO. I am still in remission. Thank you, Lord.

Six month PSA- ZERO!

I am happy to be called a big, fat ZERO when it comes to my PSA (prostate specific antigen). Yesterday was the six-month milestone since my prostate cancer surgery. Friday I went to my oncologist, and just got the good news. My PSA is "immeasurably low" meaning I'm a ZERO. Praise God! That's another way of saying I am at least in remission, if not completely cured.

Thanks you all again for your prayers and support.

Survivor

He is speech impaired, so I didn't get his name. Over the past weeks, we have become pals. I almost said we have become "friends", but I am probably guilty of calling everyone my friend, which diminishes those time-tested true friendships that are in fact special and life-enriching. Hope that means I just like people...and easily identify people as friends, or pals.

We have been meeting daily at 8:00 AM in Dr. Sharazi's waiting room for our back-to-back radiology treatments.

Our first encounter did not get off to a good start. I spoke to him and his wife (small talk) but they did not respond. Awkward, I thought. No, downright rude! Then I realized they are both hearing and speech impaired. I was ashamed of thinking they ignored me. So I resorted to a friendly hand wave as we met and left each day. He has a very pleasant smile.

The past couple weeks, we began communicating more with sign language. Since I do not know official hand signals, it was very primitive, but effective communication. We learned two people can overcome any obstacle if they work at it.

Last Thursday, my pal came in after I did. He sat down, waved to me, and smiled. Then he held up four fingers. He counted them off. One, he communicated, was for that day's treatment (since he pointed back to the treatment room). Then he slowly counted off the three remaining treatments. So I asked, "You only have four treatments left?" He must be a good lip reader as he smiled and nodded his head "yes". I said, "Me too," holding up four fingers. Then he held up nine fingers, signifying he was completing a nine week regiment (45 treatments). I held up seven fingers for seven weeks, or 35 treatments.

Today, my pal and I graduated from our first-hand course in radiation. I had one more message for him. Pointing to myself, I folded my hands in prayer, and pointed to him and his wife. My simple way of saying, "I will be praying for you." And then in the universal language, I gave my pal a hug. I wanted to say, "I love you!" His reply was one more hand gesture: a thumbs up, which spoke to me; "We are going to be OK".

Neither my pal nor I wanted to join this club, but we have learned there are some wonderful members wearing the blue ribbon, if we just take the time to get to know each other. We learned another thing: Men, who don't communicate about much (especially asking for directions when we are lost, much less about something as private as PROSTATE cancer) can and must communicate as freely as women do about their health issues.

One in six men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer. One in 35 men die of prostate cancer. Next to skin cancer, it is the most common cancer among men. My pal and I are in the club, and we set off today on a new journey: treatment completed...life as a cancer SURVIVOR begun.

Bill Jenkins, cancer survivor 9 months

From the Quote Garden

“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same."
~ Flavia Weedn, Forever, © Flavia.com

30/35

Early this morning, I had radiation treatment #30 of my planned 35 sessions. One week to go. I was not feeling well Sunday, but went to church. I'm back to normal, or as normal as possible. There are other side effects. I'll spare you the details. The Doctor says I can expect to have symptoms for a few weeks after the treatments stop.

We have had some glorious days over the past two weeks in san Diego. I feel badly for everyone back east, especially at the inauguration in DC. They looked so cold...but happy! Let's all be happy we are alive today and fulfill the hope that surrounds us.

25/35

Early today, I had radiation treatment #25 out of 35. Only 10 more to go. Sounds good, doesn't it?

I am doing very well. Some side effects, but again nothing I cannot handle.

It is another glorious day in San Diego. Thank God for another day in this beautiful world.

Happy New Year

As 2008 comes to a close, I mark another milestone on a journey I neither expected nor wanted to take. Today, I had my 17th radiation treatment out of a planned 35: close enough to 50% to celebrate!

I am doing very well. Fatigue continues to be the biggest side effect, but even that is manageable. I felt well enough last night to go to the Holiday Bowl here in San Diego with my brother-in-law Kimo.

I want to thank everyone who has traveled with me on this journey (some willingly, and others dragged into an odyssey of prostate cancer). Your prayers and support have seen me through some difficult days.

And I shared with my new-found friends and fellow cancer survivors in the doctor's waiting room this morning, "Happy New Year, and may we all be cancer free in 2009!"

40% and still doing well

Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, I will have my 14th radiation treatment out of 35 total. Then I will get a four day respite before resuming treatments next Monday. If my math is correct, that will mean I am 40% done. No big side effects so far. I am doing very well.

Thank you, everyone, for your prayers, concern and support.

Merry Christmas, and may you have a blessed holiday.

Want to see what IMRT is like?

I had my 4th of 35 IMRT treatments today. Would you like to see what it is like? Only difference is my doctor set me up so that I go in feet first because of my claustrophobia. So my feet are where this guy's head is, and visa versa. The machine never covers my head. And since my midsection is being irradiated, it makes no difference.

View the YouTube video of an IMRT session below.



Bless you.

Minor Delay

I went in for my setup x-rays early this morning. Apparently I did not take a very good picture, because the doctor's office asked that I come back Friday to have the x-rays redone. Maybe I moved, or something like that.

Bottom line: My IMRT treatments will now start next Monday, December 8 instead of tomorrow. No big deal. It gives me a few more days to prepare.

Bless you, everyone.

IMRT Starts

Well, I'm back after another pause in my treatment. The relaxed schedule has been good for me, and I now know why they delayed the next phase start date. It has taken me three months plus to heal from surgery. That does not mean I am 100% healed, but the last month has been a good one for me getting back to a state of normalcy.

Tomorrow (Tuesday, Dec. 2) I go to radiology for setup work (x-rays and such, I guess). Then Wednesday, I start my treatments with the first of 35 weekday treatments of Intensity-Modulated Radiation Therapy (IMRT). IMRT permits the delivery of a high dose of radiation to the cancer while minimizing dose to other sensitive organs.

Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. We surely did, with so many things to be thankful for.

Hard to believe it is December, but time marches on. I am feeling very well, and ready for the next phase of my war on prostate cancer.

Bless you, everyone.

Every day, I go on

From The Daily Post

By Dave Nelson, 53, of Longview (WA)

Prostate cancer has no symptoms, and for the most part, its victims have no clue.

When I was diagnosed on Valentines Day, 2007, I was shocked to learn that an agent of death had been growing inside me for years.

The instant the urologist said my name and “cancer” in the same sentence, I took on a new, unwanted identity defined by “victim,” “survivor” “remission” and “recurrence.”

My head was suddenly filled with numbers and scores —- PSA (9.74), Gleason (9) and ‘T’ scores. And I was faced with several treatment options that two days earlier I had never heard of.

Now, within four weeks I had to choose between the radical slice and dice, brachial mini nuke, external macro nuke, freeze it or wait. Except for wait, they all have the same unacceptable side effects: incontinence and sexual dysfunction.

And so began a journey I did not choose but nonetheless must travel. Almost immediately I was surrounded by cards, and friends, and prayer and fear. In the U.S. every year, 200,000 guys are diagnosed with prostate cancer. I felt the need to convince my kids, my friends, anyone, not to blame God, but to let God help us through.

The diagnosis brought into focus how temporal my life was. I realized that if I remained my easy-going wait-and-see self, I would never live the life I wanted. I began to feel the need, even the urge, to make changes —- and that urge continues today.

Some cancer victims lose their hair and their weight. I gained a scar and the ability to wet my pants at inopportune times. Every time I sneeze, cough, or wake up, I am reminded that my life has been invaded by an unwelcomed guest. And every day I silently, though sometimes awkwardly, go on.

I am sure that to my family and friends, my life over the last 18 months has appeared erratic and selfish. But cancer tore away my identity and I am still trying to find a new one. The truth is, my cancer tore away their identity also, as everyone who knows me tries to make sense out of the senseless.

But what I, my family and friends share, is courage. Courage to face life’s uncertainty. The same courage shared by every cancer victim, and everyone who has known and loved a cancer victim, as we all try to make sense out of the senseless.

"The Night I was Almost Eaten by the Wasilla Bear"

Things have been quiet with my cancer treatment for the past month. This afternoon, they kick back into high gear as I go for my radiology "preparation visit". As I understand it, they will take a CT scan of the "prostatic bed" (where my prostate once lived) and place some tattoos on my abdomen for them to line up the radiation machine for my 35 treatments which begin two weeks from today.

I am allergic to CT and MRI machines, because I am CLAUSTROPHOBIC! But by the grace of God, and your prayers, my dear friends, I will get through it.

I'll just remind myself of the night I was almost eaten by a bear in Wasilla, Alaska. (I kid you not...you cannot make this stuff up!) Would you like to hear the story? Ok, if you insist. And yes, this is the same Wasilla, Alaska where Gov. Sarah Palin lives and served as mayor. (Now that the election is over, I feel free to tell the story.)

You ask, "What was a guy from Yazoo City, Mississippi doing in Wasilla, Alaska messing with bears in the first place?" Good question; I'm glad you asked.

It has long been the tradition in the Mississippi Conference of the United Methodist Church that clergy who are ordained go on a mission trip. In 1995, when I was ordained an elder, a group of about 25 of my fellow ordinands and I were assigned to go to Wasilla and Willow (about ten miles away) to help build the Willow United Methodist Church. When I say build, I mean build (Jimmy Carter style, hammer, nails and all).

We were there ten days, sleeping in tents in a screened in pavilion. I recall taking two showers during those ten days in a shower stall in which I had to jump around to try to get wet enough to wash the soap lather off my body. Thought I was back on Graball Hill back in Yazoo City: outdoor toilet and primitive plumbing.

To make a long story even longer, one night my fellow church carpenters decided to go salmon fishing, as it was salmon season, and the sun was up past midnight. Being the oldest person in the group (and the tiredest) I elected to go to sleep while they fished.

I crawled in my sleeping bag in my tent inside the screened-in pavilion. As I was just about to fall asleep, I heard the screen door to the pavilion open and slap shut. "Wow, they are back early" I thought. As I listened for voices, I heard none. What I did hear were grunts, sniffing, and finally the roar of a GREAT WASILLA ALASKAN BLACK BEAR! Let's call him LUCIFER, The Wasilla Bear, because he scared the DEVIL out of me! Now he was trapped inside the pavilion WITH ME; unable to open the inside-swinging screen door by himself...and I surely wasn't going to escort him out. I was too busy trying to make myself INVISIBLE, no make that NON-EXISTENT, as I hid inside my tent.

I had zipped my small tent shut, but could tell when the bear got next to my tent, walking all the way around sniffing. I wondered if I smelled (well, of course I smelled...only two showers in ten days) like his next meal. I recalled the verses of scripture where the apostles were fed to the wild beasts, and wondered if that was to be my sacrifice and lasting legacy. I could see the Yazoo Herald headlines: "Yazoo Native Pastor Eaten by Alaskan Bear". Probably would sell a few more Heralds: You don't see a headline like that every week.

Finally my colleagues returned from their great Alaskan salmon adventure to play a heroic role in my great Alaskan Bear adventure, and chased the bear out the back screen door. I took my first real breath in almost TWO HOURS and finally felt free to let my heart start beating again.

So this afternoon, as I try to get through the CT Scan, I will remind myself that it is not quite as bad as almost being eaten by Lucifer, the Wasilla bear.

What a life. What a ministry.

Still here...

These daily updates have been more like weekly updates lately. Take that as good news, becuase if there was anything to say, I would be saying it here.

The healing is continuing to go well. I have full mobility, and easily go up the stairs at work and home. The biggest problem continues to be fatigue. I read an article yesterday that said fatigue for cancer patients is not being extra tired. It is more like not being able to walk across the room, or carry on a conversation. It hits at random times. Sometimes, I can take a nap at lunch...but sleep does not always work with fatigue. Not to worry, it is manageable.

I'm marking time until my radiation treatments start. Anita and I will stretch this weekend into five days (our "flex Friday" all the way through Veterans Day). I plan to rest up big time and get ready for the initial radiation setup on November 17. Then the 35 treatments begin two weeks later.

I read an article online that says a study of men who have radiation treatment after a prostatectomy have an incread risk of developing bladder and rectral cancer.

Oh well, what choice does a person have?

God is good, and in control!

I'm Back

Sorry I went silent for a few days, but honestly there has been little news to report. Over the past week, I have felt extra good on the outside. What I mean by that is with all the internal healing that has taken place, my focus has been on the inside. But now, I am feeling good on the outside, meaning I walk with my normal gate, am able to bend over without worrying that I will open the inscision, and just generally feeling more like my old self.

May God make you aware of His loving presence today.

Radiation Schedule

I saw Dr. Reza Shirazi, my radiologist, this morning. We mapped out plans for my "adjuvant" radiation treatments. That means it is a precaution, not "salvage" radiation treatment where there is known evidence of cancer after surgery. Adjuvant radiation usually begins 8-12 weeks after surgery, allowing time for the body to fully heal before suffering another trying, but necessary procedure.

I will begin a seven week regiment of daily radiation treatments on Monday, December 1. Dr. Sharazi's staff will administer the treatments Monday through Friday. They only take about twenty minutes, including prep time. I am fortunate to have them close by at Alvarado Hospital Medical Center, and should be able to continue working through the full seven weeks. Of course, I will miss a couple days Christmas and New Years, but those treatments will just be tacked onto the end. So I will get 35 treatments in all.

One of the biggest side effects is fatigue. I spoke with a few men in the doctor's waiting room before my appointment. One said fatigue was worse at the beginning, another said it was worse for him at the end, and another staid he experience no fatigue. So it is different for each individual.

Thank you all for your continued prayers as I begin this next phase of my journey.

Oncology and Radiation

I visited my oncologist this morning, and decided that I will have radiation therapy after all. It makes little sense to have the surgery and hope that we got it all when we can be as sure as possible. So the regiment should start in a couple weeks. They will consist of daily (Monday through Friday) treatments for about six weeks (about 30 treatments). There are a few side effects, but I will be able to continue work as long as my old nemesis "fatigue" doesn't get to me. They tell me the daily radiations take about 20 minutes (most of that getting prepped and in place - the actual radiation is only a minute or so).

A friend of mine at Healing Well said he "fired all torpedos" when he learned he had prostate cancer. So that is what I am doing. As Dr. Kossman suggested at the onset, we should be as aggressive as possible. For me that will now include hormone therapy, surgery and radiation. No reason to return to the airport with unused bombs still on the plane when we are in all-out war.

I hope you are all doing well today.

Thank you, Lord, for every blessing.

Pathology Report

I saw my urologist/surgeon today and received the pathology on my prostatectomy (September 15).

Here goes:

Staging: pT2c pN0 MX (Stage 2 Cancer)
Interpretation: pT2c (Bilateral disease, tumor involved both lobes of prostate)
Interpretation: pN0 (No positive regional nodes)
Interpretation: MX (Distant metastasis cannot be assessed (but earlier CT and bone scan saw no metastasis)
Gleason: 3+4=7 (biopsy indicated 3+3=6)
No discrete tumor mass
Bilateral involvement (both sides of prostate involved)
No capsular penetration (carcinoma extends into but not through capsule bilaterally)
Perineural (around the nerve) tumor invasion: present
Perineural margin: Free of carcinoma
Bladder neck: Free of carcinoma
Distal (urethral) Margin: Carcinoma present
Seminal Vesicle: None present
Lymph Nodes: 18 nodes free of metastatic carcinoma

I am pleased with the results. Cancer staging went down from Stage 3 to Stage 2, and Gleason went up from 6 to 7. But they seem to have taken all of the cancer out. Excellent news that seminal vesicles and lymph nodes were not involved. The only area of concern seems to be Distal Margin. My surgeon says he thinks he got it all. Pathologist is not so sure.

I will see my oncologist Monday to get his take on the path report.

The plan now is to see what PSA shows. May follow up with radiation, if indicated.

Some white blood cells were in my sample today, so I am on a week of Rx CIPRO. Not uncommon with catheter patients post op.

Thank you all for your wonderful support.
Bless you, all.

Major Milestone

Three weeks ago (right now, as I write) I was in surgery. Today, I returned to work at my Otay office; 100% pain free, and having full mobility. Drove myself to work (another milestone). It is so good to be up and about after suffering from cabin fever.

I’m proud of getting myself cleaned up and dressed for the first day back at work. In many ways (I’m sure Anita will agree) I have reverted to being a child; but working diligently at returning to being a responsible, self-sustaining adult as quickly as possible.

It has been an amazing journey since May 15, when I had the biopsy that revealed prostate cancer, with a flood of emotions: shock, fear, sadness, doom, anger, resolve, doubt, and finally: faith. In some ways, I wish it were possible to say I ONLY had faith. But I am human; and my testimony is that faith, in the end, won out over fear and doubt.

There were two keys to making it through the surgery. First and foremost, I learned first hand what I preached for forty years: Place yourself in the Hands of a Loving God. And that is the ultimate proof of faith. Had the outcome been different, that still is the place to be; whether you are being rolled into major surgery, or going through the routine chores of the day.

The second key was: claiming the presence and power of Guardian Angels. Thanks go to Blue Shield of California, my health care provider, for sending an audio CD called “Guided Imagery”. The 15-minute audio, which I listened to a dozen or so times before surgery, gave encouragement to gain comfort from Guardian Angels who go with me into surgery, and will be with me through recovery. If you had asked on May 15 if I believed in Guardian Angels, of course I would have said yes. But to experience them on September 15 was another story. I may never tire of telling it.

By placing myself in the Hands of a Loving God, and claiming the presence and power of my Guardian Angels, I was able to go into the surgery with a calm faith that whatever the outcome, everything would be OK.

So here is a message for ANY and EVERY day: Place yourself in the Hands of a Loving God, and claim the presence and power of your Guardian Angels, whom the God of Love has placed around you to help you where you cannot help yourself.

Finally, Blue Shield’s audio suggested I look into the faces of my Guardian Angels as I went into surgery. Do not be surprised, they said, if you recognize some of them. They were correct! Thanks, Pop, Ellen and Tommy for being there when I needed you the most.

I love you, all.

From the Quote Garden
“Angels descending, bring from above,
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.”
~ Fanny J. Crosby

Saturday

I am doing great today. Yesterday, I had some discomfort which I attribute to my "innards" growing back together. Lots of stuff got disconnected, then reconnected, in surgery. Tylenol was all I needed to get through that, and it was really no problem.

This morning, I'm working in my home office, watching college football (my favorite hobby) and surfing the net. No pains at all, and a continued feeling of wellness and wholeness.

Thank you, Lord!

Thursday Thoughts

Having had major surgery which included insertion of a catheter, I was not able to determine which aches and discomforts were due to the surgery and which ones were due to my new "artificial appendage". Now that it is gone, I can tell many of the aches were due to the catheter. Don't get me wrong, it was not painful.; and it served a critical role in my recovery.

The last couple days have been excellent. I was able to sit in my office chair in my home office (as opposed to the overstuffed comfy recliner where I have lived the past two weeks). Never thought I would celebrate sitting in an office chair over the recliner. This bodes well for me being able to return to my office at Otay on Monday.

I have also been able to return to having meals at the dining room table, instead of the TV trays Anita has so carefully prepared for me. Anita has gone back to work full days as of yesterday, and I am managing quite well by myself. She calls to check on me. And Chris is here until about noon every day, so I am well cared for.

I began today getting rid of anything that reminds me of being sick. By that, I mean I am trying to put everything at home "back to normal". Granted, that means putting some things out of site (in the medicine cabinet, for example). I want to think WELL, and not SICK.

I am feeling WELL, thanks to the Great Physician, my doctors, my family and friends.

Enjoy God's blessings today.