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Emotional break -- what triggered yours

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Posted 7/22/2016 10:10 PM (GMT 0)
Of course, I'm sure almost all of us had some sort of mental breakdown when we first got THE CALL.
I know I did, but it was more internal. Reality hit. It was no longer MAYBE. The chance suddenly went from X% to 100%. Rough.
But for me, fortunately, knowing I'd be somewhat non-thinking-clearly upon getting THE CALL, I had done a lot of research/reading BEFORE I got THE CALL. I had a plan in place.

So, I worked on my plan. I had my slides sent to Epstein. When the second opinion confirmed the biopsy report, I continued with my plan, making consultation appointments at U. of Mich with a surgeon, radiology guy, and a MO specializing in PC. I was holding up fairly well.

Then, I got the appointment confirmation in the mail.

The top of the page said University of Michigan Cancer Center.

That was when I broke down. It just hit big time. I got the disease that OTHERS get, not me.
Yep, ii just hit me big time. I really did break down, tears and all. The emotion just welled up inside me.
It only lasted 5-10 minutes. But, it was tough.

What strange timing.

Since then, I've failed surgery and radiation. I've had tests with lousy PSA results. I've been upset and worried. But I've never just felt as overwhelmed, breaking down as I did that time, about 6 years ago.

Mel
Posted 7/22/2016 10:17 PM (GMT 0)
Mel, interesting topic, one that i can relate to.
Like you, i had researched this thing to death before i got the call - for two years before my diagnosis! So i was prepared with a plan - send the slides to epstein, call Samadi and Tewari. And then the guys here convinced me to speak to RO's as well, so i did that.

As long as i was making appointments and seeing Drs, i felt like i was doing something, and had some level of control, (Even though i knew i didnt really have full control).

But my breakdown moment did come and i will never forget it. I was at the hospital, in the basement, where they did bone scans, waiting my turn. I saw people coming and going, with patients, some with no hair, others looking emaciated. And it hit me right between the eyes. I am a cancer patient. My wife was with me. I turned away, and just started to sob like a child. She helped me get a hold of myself, and that was it. After that i was ok. Depressed, feeling very alone (despite the great support on this forum) but i was able to handle it.

That day in the basement of the hospital - i dont ever want to have that feeling again.
Posted 7/22/2016 10:30 PM (GMT 0)
I was totally prepared when I was told I had prostate cancer, my wife though almost broke down.

Two years later I was at the veterinarian at 6 am with my 16 1/2 year old Australian shepherd mix that suffered a stroke when I got the call from my oncology urologist that my PSA hit 0.2 and that I needed radiation. While kneeling down hold my girl while the vet gave her the lethal injection I broke down. Afterwards I told her, and the vet tech that the phone I received was informing me that my cancer was back. I said that the cancer coming back wasn't an issue, but putting my girl down is the hardest thing I have ever done.
Posted 7/22/2016 10:59 PM (GMT 0)
I know if my cancer comes back i'll crack bigtime. test in six weeks...
Posted 7/23/2016 2:47 AM (GMT 0)
I cry so much it's not possible to list the reasons...nor name the causes. I don't mind it so much. My ex girlfriend once said she'd "gotten used to it". Lol I know it can be somewhat discombobulating to others to see a grown man cry!

The other night I was missing my father's wisdom. I teared up. He died in '92 !!!

When told of my diagnosis....it wasn't the disease so much. It was the treatment. And sure 'nuff...

A rise in PSA doesn't scare me so much...except for...the treatment. Scar tissue and radiation isn't optimal.

Sometimes...its tiring. Sometimes I imagine myself just walking away from it. No more doctors. If I need a doctor...every ER has one.

Another part of me feels...I'm not facing my fears by not always doing what I'm told by my assorted and lol vast "medical support system". But, my gosh men...at some point this just gets ridiculous.

Now? Hypertension !! Lol I'm a mess. But...ironically enough...The more I surrender to my being "a mess"...The more serenity, peace and hope I feel.

This is getting lol ridiculous. It's gotten to the point that I'm beginning to not care...who...knows...what!
Posted 7/23/2016 4:06 AM (GMT 0)
I have been positive from the beginning and intend to stay that way...As kiergagard said ..."you only suffer once"...I would add to that...the rest is mere memory...
A caveat{am I using that word wrongly?...oh well...works for me} to that would be on my second and last night at the hospital after a continuous morphine drip of at least 12 hours...hey I was in " the city" in the 60's... I had a total meltdown...crying...totally irritated by those blood clot leggings and their back and forth...surounded by hallways of cancer patients{ not just pca}...grieving for them and myself....the whole ordeal from diagnosis to a relatively good path report...all crashed in on me...that late evening in October of 09...Called my wife and youngest son to come babysit me[we rented a nice spot in the U district of Seattle}...next morning was released...walked 2 miles back to our place...knew I was on the road to recovery... To this day the whole five weeks in seattle was what can only be described as a mystical experience...It wasn't just the bad...the ugly...the good...it was all of it...every drop...crying...heck I cry at least once a day...a mixture of happy/sad...floating..nay...lifted in a preservation of salt...peppered with teeny tiny seeds of joy...life...life........ :-) cry yeah
Posted 7/23/2016 4:59 AM (GMT 0)
as I recall, I had a few little breakdowns with a fair amount of depression. First time was after I had received the call and then had to tell my wife.

It was so hard to look her in the eye and say, "doc says I have cancer."

That was the hard part, telling my dearest love and best friend.

Andrew
Posted 7/23/2016 8:05 AM (GMT 0)
My case is much like lapilot's. I was fine when told by my urologist that I had a rip-roaring cancer that would be my demise, likely within 2 to 4 years. While unexpected at the time, I still had my testosterone then, before Lupron injections changed that, and I handled it fine. My poor little adult niece who had driven me and was with me for that talk did not fare so well. Since then, I've broken down several times, but just about always limited to concerns about my dog. Luckily it was not his end like lapilot's. That would really have sent me over the edge.
Posted 7/23/2016 10:01 AM (GMT 0)
Good topic. Mine came with the phone call from the Uro's office with the bx results. December 5, 2014. I can remember every moment leading up to the call, and nothing after it. It was a Friday, I'd had the biopsy on Tuesday that week. I came home from work, and my normal routine was: Coat off, lunchbox on the counter. Kibble in the cat's food dish. Go to the front door and get the mail. On the way by, saw the light blinking on the answering machine. Push the play button and half-listen. The message was, "This is ____ at Dr. Nayak's office. Please call as soon as you can and ask for me."

I put the mail down, found a pen and piece of paper, and played the message again. Called the office, asked to be connected, and introduced myself. She told me my results. I had been lurking here for the previous week or two, so I asked, "OK, how many positive, and what are the G scores". I wrote that down, and asked, "OK, what comes next". She asked when I'd be available over the next week or so for a half-day at the hospital for a CT scan and bone scan, and told me how Dr. Nayak handled the process.

Then I hung up the phone, sat down in my recliner. Took off my steel toe boots. Turned on the TV (not a clue about what was on). I sat there and didn't move for the next hour and a half until my wife got home from work. She walked in and immediately said, "what's wrong?". I told her what I knew, and she sat there for a minute or two. Then she said possibly the wisest thing she could have said. "Ok, we don't know much. Let's go get something to eat, and we'll figure out the next steps as we learn more". And that's what we did.
Posted 7/23/2016 10:33 AM (GMT 0)
Boy, did this thread get me thinking.

I do not remember getting upset, but why? Not really sure.

I can remember I was on a contract job and was in an airport when I got the call on my cell phone. Maybe it was my preflight scotch. Maybe I popped some klonopin. Maybe my wife, and her knowledge of cancer, made me feel secure. Maybe it was because I felt I had faced more sever medical problems .... or maybe I was just ignorant about PCa. Maybe it was the focus on the daughters illness. Maybe I had already thought it through. I don't know .... but for a guy with anxiety, I wonder why no melt down.

Like I said this thread gets me thinking .... Great topic.

Post Edited (RCS) : 7/23/2016 4:56:27 AM (GMT-6)

Posted 7/23/2016 11:50 AM (GMT 0)
I wasn't so much upset as I was lost and confused. That happened for me at the first URO consult. He had told me based on my PSA and his DRE, I had a greater than 65% chance I had PCa.
When I left his office, I couldn't navigate my way out. I walked into 2 different closets, and just kinda stood there. His waiting room was full, and 3 receptionists just kinda sat there and stared at me.
I remember being embarrassed, and highly emotional wondering why no one was helping me get out of there.
Posted 7/23/2016 11:56 AM (GMT 0)
Shortly after my diagnosis at age 44 with Gleason 9 and ironically as others posted --- having to say goodbye to my dog at the same time, was probably the time I lost it.

However, hearing 15 months later that I had bone mets wasn't a good day as well. I was in a meeting at work when I read the email from my doctor.

This roller coaster ride is tough on the emotions that's for sure.
Posted 7/23/2016 12:05 PM (GMT 0)
Good topic.
A 10 PM phone call was how I found out that I have a rare form of advanced ductal prostate cancer that effects about 0.4% of the cases. The doctor started out telling me that I had cancer, then that it was advanced, then that it was a rare type that has a low five year survival rate and that I should "make plans". All in all the doctor was rude and indifferent. I did not break down then. I found a new urologist that was willing to be more agressive in treatment options. While I did not break down then I was numb. I became more numb after doing literature searches on ductal cancer. (Some of the articles stated a 23% five year survival rate.) about two weeks later I finally broke down when I was talking to my brothers and asking them to support my wife out if/when cancer wins. Came close to breaking down when dealing with major leakage issues and numerous public accidents after the surgery as well as the ongoing side effects of hormone treatments. I am happy for what I can still do, but sad on things that are now beyond my reach.
Posted 7/23/2016 1:24 PM (GMT 0)
Mel, this is an interesting topic and the responses are insightful.

I think I'm one of the lucky ones who generally has a measured response to bad news. The PCa news was actually delivered to me by my wife. She had the HIPPA approvals and was home when the doctor called. When I got home she told me that the doc said I had prostate cancer and it was very treatable. There was no panic from either of us and we proceeded to delve into the internet with a sense of urgency but not particular sadness or confusion.

My treatment was one of the least invasive and the aftermath has been good. Perhaps if my diagnosis had been worse or my treatment had yielded onerous SE's I might have had some sort of emotional break. Maybe if I have a serious illness it might happen...I'm not getting any younger. But, so far so good.

Jim
Posted 7/23/2016 1:37 PM (GMT 0)
Ditto what in the shop said.

When I read this thread I didn't really think it pertained to me but I forgot how hard it was to tell my girlfriend (of 16 years). I got the call on a Thursday morning, very shocking. She spent her weeks in a hotel out of state for work so I did not want to tell her over the phone. When she came home Friday night it was so hard to look at her and tell her. I knew if I looked I would not be able to keep from crying uncontrollably. I had to avoid eye contact at all costs.

Interesting that as I am typing this I also remember the difficulty of telling my Mom. I did not tell her until I kind of knew what was going on and had an idea of the treatment, maybe a month or 2 after diagnosis. I could not look at her for almost an hour or so while talking about it. I had to hide that I was about to burst into tears.

Funny how it can be so easily forgotten, the emotional side. You spend so much time being strong and handling whatever comes your way that you can ignore those weak moments that many of us have....Jim
Posted 7/23/2016 2:39 PM (GMT 0)
I was expecting to get a positive diagnosis so I went into the uro's office with that mindset. But I didn't expect to get a high-risk diagnosis. Like Newton, I felt a bit lost and confused. My uro told me I should have surgery and in the parking lot I told my wife, yes, let's do that. I can't see the point in talking to anyone else.

As to it "hitting me," when I was filling out the paperwork for my bone scan, when I got to the question about "had I ever had cancer" I checked "no," since I always had checked "no." My wife pointed out that I needed to check "yes," which was rather sobering.

I went to a Dodger game that night and told my friend about my diagnosis. He said, "but you'll get a second opinion, won't you?" I told him I didn't see the point, but he persisted. A few days later, I found this forum and started to make my plan. Healingwell was a godsend to me.
Posted 7/23/2016 3:18 PM (GMT 0)
A bunch of guys here, a bunch of stories. And each of our stories is unique in one way or another.

My story (which I've told here before in other thread(s) as I recall) indeed has a unique twist to it.

Up until April 2011 my life was still as ordinary as it had been for years, as I was still blissfully gliding along in it, and things were going fine, and then absolutely catastrophic disaster hit.

On April 29 of 2011 my dear, dear wife of 39 years, who seemed to be in excellent health, collapsed to the floor in our house. Ambulance was summoned (got there in eight minutes, felt like eight years) and the EMT crew set about trying to save her. But she died on route to the hospital. Cardiac arrest. The kind of heart attack that can give no warning, and does its damage very quickly.

BUT NOTE THIS WELL: Actually there had been some warning signs, but, the fact that I was completely ignorant of at the time, to my eternal regret, is that warning signs of an impending heart attack or cardiac arrest can be different for a woman than for a man. I already knew the traditional signs for a man (chest pain, pain in shoulders and/or sides of throat or upper back, labored breathing, among others). I had always just assumed they would be similar for a woman. Not so. (So if a female loved one is ever showing signs of discomfort, even something as general as just stomach pain and fatigue (my wife's case) it may not be heart related at all, but don't rule it out either.

Anyway, my wife passed on in April 2011. Absolutely the most utterly devastating, emotionally destructive, horrifying experience of my entire life. Largely because it happened in such a totally sudden and unexpected way. Yes, I know, not one of us is ever guaranteed to make it to sunset on any given day. But then when it really happens, as to the dearest person in one's life, the horrifying effect is almost indescribable.

I labored on in shock for months. So when severe BPH symptoms occurred in me a couple of months later in the following July, resulting in the need for an immediate TURP operation, I was distressed at this, of course, but being still so numbed out by my wife's passing just two months earlier, I greeted this surgery experience more in a state of being dazed and bewildered than shock. Just one more blow after an already devastating event.

Then, a few months later in December, when a post-TURP PSA that continued to be higher than it should have been resulted in a biopsy, the result was positive for PCa.

This was more shocking than the TURP experience, but the earlier disaster of April was still fresh enough in my mind to numb out a good portion of this development as well.

Like if you've already been slammed in the head with a hammer, a couple more hammer blows a bit later just aren't as noticeable.

But back to the point of this thread, I think what I'm saying is that I guess a person can break down only so much. If numbness from an earlier, catastrophic, breakdown has already set in (a numbness that is probably the brain's way of protecting itself from further psychological damage) then further breakdown, even if the news is something as serious as a cancer diagnosis, becomes limited.

Maybe that's what happened to me, and one more way that a breakdown can occur (or not occur).

But on a final side note, I sincerely hope that none of you ever has to experience as much in a single year as I did in 2011. I still cringe when I think of that year.
Posted 7/23/2016 5:20 PM (GMT 0)
Great topic.

When I got the results of my annual physical in 2008, everything was fine except that I had a PSA of 4.1. My GP circled that result and wrote on the bottom of the results: "Make an appointment with a urologist."

I did. Between the day I got the PSA result and the day I talked to a local urologist, I went online to PubMed and read quite a few papers about prostate cancer (with the help of an online cancer dictionary). I also read the massive study about side effects from various prostate cancer treatments that had been published recently in the New England Journal of Medicine. I also read Dr. Peter Scardino's book about prostate cancer - in many ways it became my bible. [I didn't find HealingWell until much later.]

At that point I thought that I probably didn't have prostate cancer, but if I did it probably wouldn't kill me but might cause urinary incontinence and probably would cause erectile dysfunction.

Nerves but no emotional breakdown.

The local urologist recommended he do a biopsy. The biopsy found prostate cancer. By sheer good luck, the urologist had sent the slides to Dr. Epstein for analysis.

I talked all this over with my wife of 25 years. She said she would leave it in my hands.

The urologist recommended he do an open radical prostatectomy. I knew better than to let the local guy do the surgery; I traveled instead to M. D. Anderson in Houston. I consulted with a urologist-surgeon and a radiologist (who pushed proton beam therapy). I chose surgery. [In 2008 almost no one was talking about things like active surveillance.] I believed the surgeon when he said that the odds were that I probably wouldn't die from prostate cancer; I didn't believe him when he said that the odds were that I would not have any significant long-term side effects. By that point in time, I knew better. But he had a massive amount of experience with laparoscopic radical prostatectomies, and that's what I wanted.

Big time nerves but no emotional breakdown.

They told me that I was 56 years old and should have had a colonoscopy when I turned 50. They told me to get it done now before my prostate cancer surgery; it would be easier than after prostate cancer surgery. I did.

My wife said she was too busy at work to go with me for the colonoscopy. Afterwards, when I was still groggy from the procedure, the doctor told me simply to make an appointment with him for the next day. [His office followed up with a phone call later that day in case I was too groggy to remember that advice.]

I went to speak to him the next day. I knew going in that this wasn't good. He told me that I had an "advanced case of colon cancer." I hadn't done any research on colon cancer, but by that time I knew that in the world of cancer, one speaks in terms of five-year survival rates. I asked him repeatedly what were my odds of being alive in five years. He repeatedly dodged the question. Finally, I prevailed by sheer force of will and he said that he thought I had "about a 5% chance of being alive in 5 years." That he was going to do everything in his power to fight this, but I should go home and "get my affairs in order."

I drove home in shock. I was still in shock when I arrived home a couple hours later. My wife was there when I got home. I told her the news. She told me that she had spent the day talking with a divorce lawyer and was going to file for divorce.

I packed a suitcase and moved that evening to a local hotel.

And then ... finally ... in a small crummy hotel room I broke down and cried.

Eight years and numerous operations, treatments, etc. later I am testing cancer free on both the prostate and colon cancer fronts.

I have never cried in front of my wife (now ex-wife). I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

I know several men whose wives divorced them when they were diagnosed with cancer. I suspect it is more than common than people realize. Those of you whose partners stood by you are more blessed than you know.

Peace to all,

Zen9
Posted 7/23/2016 6:14 PM (GMT 0)
Wow Zen9...what a story...I cannot even express...the power of that...
Please share...if you can...your state of being...as we speak....and what you have that contributes to that state of being... Actually that would be a good thread topic...probably wouldn't be allowed on this site...Oh the irony...
Posted 7/23/2016 7:21 PM (GMT 0)
I had several. One was when I went to MD Anderson for my second opinion. The waiting room was huge and I sat there thinking I would never be in a place like that. The second time I had an appointment with the hospital administration to cover insurance, surgery and all book keeping items. The administrator said How are you today and proceeded to say... I see we are going to take out your kidney. I burst into tears thinking what a total mix up. The administrator actually got out of her chair and came over to comfort me. Of course the issue was resolved but I broke down big time.....The lasttime was similar to others. I finished SRT and had to put my dog down 4 days after radiation. I was fatigued and run down. I sat in vets office and let loose....
Posted 7/23/2016 7:34 PM (GMT 0)
Boy do I remember my meltdown. I received my phone call on January 23rd and actually took the news with relative calm. Met the next day with the doctor and he was very positive and upbeat about my chances. With my personality I already knew that I wanted that crap out yesterday and was lucky enough to have my surgery scheduled a "brief" 18 days after diagnosis on Feb. 10th. Wednesday, Feb. 8th two days before surgery I went in for my required pre-surgery physical of EKG, chest X-ray, etc. Had that in the AM and went home thinking that I was good to go for the prostate bandit that Friday. Got a phone call that afternoon from an unknown hospital employee saying that I had a "suspicious" spot--one on each lung and needed to come back the next morning for an additional chest X-ray. That was it--I lost it. I was convinced that my cancer had spread and that I was going to die a slow painful death. Needless to say, it was the most stressful awful evening of my life. My mind wandered between despair and downright depression. The next morning I went for my X-ray and the tech person could tell I was in a bad way. She asked if I was OK and I replied with obvious sarcasm "Just peachy" and proceeded to tell her my tale of woe. She listened politely and put a piece of tape over each nipple. I just looked at her and asked what the "pasties" were for. She said my "suspicious" shadows were probably the shadow from my nipples showing up on the original X-ray and under the tape was a metal BB and if the BB showed up in the suspicious shadow I was likely fine, but that a radiologist would give the final word, but it was her experience that I was probably one of the 25-30% of people who had this happen with their chest X-rays. She also said whoever called me had no right to call anything suspicious. Well, she was right. I big to do about nothing. I was so happy to not have lung mets that I didn't even get angry the person who called about my "suspicious" spots. Not even my yearly PSA anxiety comes close to that horrible experience.

Tom
Posted 7/23/2016 8:15 PM (GMT 0)
Zen:

What a poignant story you have. It's funny, but I sensed something was not right with your wife when she was too busy to go with you to the doctor on the two occasions you mentioned.

Very sorry to read this. There are some names that come to mind, but I just don't use that kind of language.

"Hi dear, I just got a PC dx. What are we going to do."
"Well, for starters, can you just sign these papers here"

Mel
Posted 7/23/2016 8:49 PM (GMT 0)
I honestly haven't had mine yet. I suppose it will happen if/when my Oncologist looks me in the eye and says something to the effect of "There isn't anything else we can do for you and you have less than a year to live. Maybe it will happen then and maybe I will just spend the rest of the time working as hard as I can to live the life I have and spend my son's inheritance.

To a very large degree I think that I took the news well because of my late wife's cancer. Her cancer was both a blessing and a curse. The curse was that it took her life way to early, she was only 56 in June 2012. She had been dealing with her cancer since November 2005. The blessing was that I went through her entire journey with her and considered my issues a minor walk in the park in comparison.

I was diagnosed in June of 2009. I had just come in from sitting with her in the hospital. She had gone in 2 days earlier with what we thought was another case of pneumonia, her 3rd. She had a stem cell transplant in July 2006 and had a weakened immune system. It was a Friday and my Urologist called the house about 6:30pm just minutes after I had walked in the door.

He was very solemn and serious. He said the biopsy results were in and I had Pca, Gleason 7. My response was, "Don, you need to lighten up. I don't have time to have cancer (he was aware of all my wife was going through). I said that he as might as well be calling me to tell me that an xray of my foot from bumping it in the middle of the night, showed that my toe was broken.

He told me I needed to come into the office and I told him I would come in as soon as I could get my wife out of the hospital. I don't think he took that too well.

The next morning I was on the way to the hospital, to see my wife and deliver the news. I called her room on the way in to tell her I was running late. A nurse answered and said yes, I had the right room, but that they were a tad busy. My wife's oxygen saturation levels had dropped to 40% and they were working on getting her to ICU to get her on a ventilator. I was in the parking garage by that time and they told me to hurry up so I could see her before going to ICU.

So I did not have a chance to tell her. She was in ICU for 8 weeks in a drug induced coma. When she finally started to come around and they could take her off the ventilator, they told her that she should have died many times during that 8 weeks. They dubbed her the "Miracle". It turned out that she actually had contracted Swine Flu and two others much younger and healthier had died in ICU while she was there.

During those 8 weeks was when I found HW. I would do my research by night and spend my days in the hospital.

From ICU she was moved to a respiratory rehab facility and on the third day there, she looked up at me and asked if I had every heard the results of the biopsy. I just replied yes, I have Pca. She was crushed.

She asked what I was going to do. I told her that as a matter of fact the rehab facility had agreed to keep her an extra 3 days. She asked why. I told her I was flying to Detroit the next day to interview the surgeon that I thought would do my operation.

There is much more of her journey, but it doesn't need to be said here. Suffice is to say that my surgery, radiation, HT and now chemo, significantly pales in comparison to what she went through and endured for 6.5 years.

I always repeat the phrase here that "Every Day is A Bonus and my only job is to choke the life out it". I truly mean that and live my life that way. I give Pca the due diligence it requires, when it needs it. The rest of the time I am LIVING. I can't afford to spend my time and energy stressing and worrying about that which I truly cannot control other than by being diligent.

So my true meltdown from my cancer hasn't happened yet. Don't know if it will. I may meltdown from something else, but for the time being it won't be about Pca. I refuse to give it the satisfaction or the energy.

Sonny
Posted 7/23/2016 9:15 PM (GMT 0)
Some amazing stories here.
Sonny, even though I know your mindset, it's still amazing to,read your words.

Zen, amazing story. And while so sad, it's also a story of triumph. If one believes in God, it's an illustration. Truth in the saying "God never gives us more than we can handle".

I hope and suspect, in your case, it's also an example of what doesn't kill us makes us strong.
Like bololidat, I'd be interested in hearing how you are doing now, besides being cancer free.

Mel, thanks for this thread. I'm guessing it's cathartic for sme of us
Posted 7/24/2016 1:03 PM (GMT 0)
I have not had a melt down as yet. I have always tended to meet problems head on. Now, as one therapy after another fails I find myself having to go deep to get the fighting spirit. I will complete chemo in August and so far does not seem to be doing much. I pretty much view this as my last hope for conventional medicine. Doc says Zytiga next. Don't know...I failed Xtandi and seems they are similar. Looking into trial that Sonny mentioned in one of his posts. (That may be the thing to do is offer my self as a guinea pig. Sort of like donating the body to medical school only I am still using it.) Maybe when I finally get to a point that there is nothing else to do I will have that break down. I must admit that I am tired of having this hang over me like the sword of Damocles.

Don
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