There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
In May of last year, I submitted my second-ever column to PelhamToday. It was about the good experience of a friend of mine being diagnosed with cancer, throughout his several weeks of radiation treatment, and finally being in remission and cured of his cancer.
Thanks to the medical team making him feel so positive, I found it very uplifting, not a word often used where any cancer diagnosis is confirmed, when those of my age can often be shaken and scared and worrying about what is to come.
Nearly a year later, I find myself in the same position with a similar diagnosis, just a different type of cancer.
It occurred to me that if I wrote a series of columns, it just may help those like me, with many years of seeing cancer only as a very real, and very scary threat, that I may be able to help by writing of my ‘cancer journey' as I go through it.
Mine is prostate cancer, an early diagnosis, so a low-to- intermediate threat, and something I already believe will be successfully treated. And I don’t propose to regale anyone with any graphic details, merely take you on my journey and my impressions of all the folks, from family and friends to hospital staff, who will help me through this story of hope and optimism.
The two-week wait for the results of my biopsy probably wasn't as long as it seemed—they just could not come soon enough for me. I’m not sure if Google is necessarily anyone’s ‘friend’, just too much information out there, and I already knew that whatever some nice statistics might offer, at my age it was far more likely to be a cancer diagnosis rather than not. I just pretended not to know this.
However, as I had, coincidentally, made an appointment to see my family doctor earlier on the day of my diagnosis appointment, a separate set of circumstances came up which rather belied the optimistic cheerfulness I chose to show.
My own doc put me on blood pressure pills some years earlier and I had agreed to monitor them on a regular basis. Over the years I had managed to show her results that let her reduce the dosage from 16 mg down to 8 mg. I was quite proud of this, and I was working on getting down to 4 mg.
The day before those two appointments I took a set of readings in the morning, then again in the afternoon. They were way over anything I’d seen before and no better the next morning!
This was rather complicated by the fact that my doc had sent me for a heart ultrasound last year and those results were very good and showed no signs of any potential heart problem at that time.
So, first thing when I arrived at my own doc’s office I asked if she had been sent the results of my biopsy. She had, and it was cancer and, I think, my first feeling was one of relief. The wait was over, and I’d learn later that day how I would be moving forward.
When I told her about my blood pressure readings her reaction astonished me. I expected her to suggest I increase the dosage immediately. Instead, she looked at me over her glasses and only suggested that maybe I was just as likely pretending when I assured her I wasn’t all that concerned about my upcoming appointment and the biopsy result, later that day. Incidentally, when she took my blood pressure, there and then, it was still off the charts!
Funnily enough, when I arrived home, I couldn’t resist taking even more readings. Guess what? Though still higher than usual they were on the way down.
So, there you are. There are times when putting on a brave face, even when you really believe it, doesn’t fool your own body or even your own mind. It’s no big deal accepting that you are concerned, without really knowing it.
On to the diagnostic details.
Our welcome at the hospital, and at the cancer centre, both friendly and professional, a fairly short wait and then the urologist arrived to tell me what I already knew. These guys! We shook hands then he turned to my lady and said to me, ‘So nice you’ve brought your daughter’. Smooth or what.
I told him I already knew the results, but my family doc and I hadn’t spoken much more about it.
The next step is to talk to a Radiology Oncologist, who will confirm an appointment when he can meet me and then plan on what my treatment will be and how long it will take.
So far I can only feel gratitude at the process, and the small details, like a staff that are obviously interested in what is happening to you and offering their help. More to come.
