... for me, after reading loads of studies, seeing percentages thrown around by oncologists, urologists and patients, chances of living five years, 10 years, 20 years ... there's only ONE 100% truth.
I have
a 100% chance of never being the same after this diagnosis and treatment.
It's that reality that really smacked me hard this week. All the rest is statistical minutia and guess work that doesn't mean a thing in light of the diagnosis. There are no other definitives when it comes to prostate cancer, at least for me.
Here's what I know: orgasms will never be the same, I may or may not (but probably) be able to get erections (depending if the surgeon can save nerves), and either way, sex won't be what it was - ever. Hell, sex may not even be possible; there's a chance and percentage for that, too. I'll have to wear a catheter for at least a week or two. I'll likely pee my pants for a while, I'll probably cough and piss myself a few times ... or maybe weeks ... or for months. I may have to wear pee pads for a while or a little longer. Well, fantastic!
But we're guys, right? We're told to 'man up', suck it up and live with it. Yeah, ok ... Since my diagnosis May 2, I've gone from denial to hope, from acceptance to pissed off and everything in between. I've listened to my urologist tell me he thinks my cancer is confined to the prostate gland, to hearing a radiological oncologist on Friday tell me I'll be lucky if it hasn't spread. I took an online test that gives me only a 20% chance of confinement to the prostate gland when I plug in my numbers. So apparently T2b doesn't mean anything, either.
I sent off my slides to Johns Hopkins, Dr. Epstein, last week. I'm told now that the news could get worse ... or better, but not much better ... considering 'better' with my numbers is relative. Good news? Nah, not much. 80% of my prostate has Gleason 3+4=7 adenocarcinoma, 9 of 12 cores; two cores are 3+3 Gleason 6, two cores benign. The radiologist doc was kind enough to remind me of that, even though I already knew it. But hey, I guess it's better than Gleason 8/9/10 or pancreas cancer. Next he says my prostate is HALF the size of a normal prostate. Well, how the hell did that happen? No one knows. Also, those sudden urges to pee that I had before my DRE and biopsies - totally gone now. I don't have that issue anymore. Pissing is back to normal. What that means, I have no clue and neither does anyone else I've talked to.
I've got a colorectal MRI, CatScan/bone scans being schedule to see if this cancer has spread. I thought I already had an MRI, but it was apparently just an ultrasound done with biopsy. Another PSA test was taken Friday and I'll get those results next week. But, get this ... the radiological oncologist Dr. David Pomerantz (the same guy who did Tony Caspino's radiation treatments) tells me that PSA going down means nothing. Really? Yes, really, he says. PSA going down doesn't mean the cancer is going away or risk is lowered. Apparently only PSA going up means anything ... ok, great, let me get my head around that, too. I'm 'intermediate risk," says Pomerantz. Risk? Risk of what? Dying? Living? Being diagnosed with cancer? That term 'intermediate risk' is laughable. I've already been diagnosed with cancer. Someone really needs to have that verbage changed.
The first week, I felt I had time an options and time, but now, not really. Both options - radiation treatments or radical prostatectomy - leave me with virtually the same issues and the only statistical % that's 100% truthful. Both treatments have similar complications and side effects. Dr. Pomerantz says both have equal success rates - no clear statistical advantage one over the other with cases like mine.
So, the dreaded decision. Doing radiation treatments for nine weeks, five days a week, just isn't my cup of tea. No, thanks. I asked Dr. Pomerantz what he would do if he were me, and he said he'd probably do the surgery. Well, that settled that. If the radiation doc opts for surgery, that sold me. I'll get a referral to surgical oncologist Dr. O. Alex Lasani, who Tony recommends in Vegas. So surgery it is. Hopefully my Humana insurance won't fight me opting for surgery over radiation. Thank God, the decision is decided.
And there you have it. Reality hit. There just aren't many choices when all is said and done, and the only statistic that makes any sense is that there's a 100% chance I'll never be the same again.
Thanks for listening.