Posted 7/20/2022 3:34 PM (GMT 0)
I kept a journal of all activities related to my cancer diagnosis and treatment. Twelve years ago, I had been diagnosed and was now in the process of going through the necessary scans and other diagnostic measures that precede surgery. Here's what I wrote on that particular occasion. It may resonate with some who are newly diagnosed and certainly with some who've been through the process:
"The morning of the 20th started like any other morning. Bill, Jr., dropped off Megan, Max, Keira, and Connor at 7:00 a.m. and we were soon caught up in preparing bowls of cereal and sippy cups for the kids. At 7:20, I drank my rather large jar of delicious vanilla flavored barium and then headed for Vista East hospital in Waukegan.
The staff in admitting and in Testing were some of the friendliest medical folks I’ve ever dealt with, and the testing went like clockwork. At 8:30 I was injected in preparation for the bone scan. At 9:20 I was lying on the rack as the CT imaging machine whirled around my abdomen. After the scan, I was allowed to go to the lobby and have a nice cup of Starbucks coffee and a donut. Then at 10:30, I was in nuclear medicine for the bone scan, which took about 45 minutes as the table I was lying on slowly moved beneath the scanner, starting right above my face and moving down toward my feet. I was glad I’m not claustrophobic! By 11:45, I was out of the hospital and on my way to Bowen Park in Waukegan, where Beth had taken the four grandkids for a special play day. Our friend Sandi was also there with her daughter Nikki and Nikki’s two kids Emmalee and Andrew, who were visiting from Australia.
In the hospital waiting areas, I had seen people who obviously had one foot in the grave. One man in particular was in very bad shape, sitting sadly in a wheelchair in an ill-fitting hospital gown as his wife tried to console him. I don’t know exactly what was wrong with him, but he was in pretty bad shape. So, it was a relief to get to the park where the grandkids were clambering all over the slides, swings, and other exciting playground equipment. Life was normal and healthy and the way it should be again. The contrast between the park and the gloomy hospital could not have been move vivid.
And the thing is, I was feeling great. If I didn’t look in a mirror and see the reflection of a 64-year-old man, I would guess my age to be 40-something. Can I really have cancer? Is this some sort of a sick joke?"
Well, it was no joke and a month later I had my robotic prostatectomy. Those were some gloomy times, but things have turned out well for me, and hopefully for many, many others who have dealt with, or who are dealing with, a prostate cancer diagnosis. If anyone currently dealing with a diagnosis might find it helpful to see what my cancer "journey" entailed, I would be happy to share the whole journal with them.