I’m surprised by how much getting my PSA results 30 hours ago affected me yesterday and today. It’s been a real struggle.
Anger. That’s the word of the last 24 hours. I just want to scream, “Would you make up your fucking mind already?!?! Either come back and let’s battle this cancer shit head-on, or get the fuck out of my life once and for all!!” (Told you I’m pissed.) It’s the uncertainty that comes with each test result that’s getting to me. And the fact that this will happen every four months for the foreseeable future is growing really tiresome.
Logic tells the data-driven part of me that I’m okay—that I’m still considered to be cancer-free for now. It’s probably because I am so data-driven that I’m getting so angered and frustrated. Cancer doesn’t always follow a logical path; it doesn’t always fit neatly into cells in a spreadsheet. I need be better at accepting that fact. (You would have thought that I would have learned this after 6+ years of dealing with this.)
Cancer sucks.
Sorry if I offended with my language, but when I started this blog, it was intended to be a raw sharing of thoughts and emotions, and it’s something that I needed to do today, otherwise my head would explode. Really.
And, no, I’m not wishing for the cancer to come back. I’m grateful that I’m still here and able to whine about it. Truly. I guess frayed nerves, anger, and frustration are small prices to pay for longevity.
Logic and emotion take us to different places. Sometimes you just need to scream while your logical brain works it out.
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Thanks, Andrew.
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Not sure about other cancers, but prostate cancer is an insidious little shite that gets into your head, so it’s good that you’re getting it out. And, what bad language?
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Agreed. And it was definitely good to vent yesterday. Thanks!
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Well said….
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It’s good to let it out. We’re here to listen and try to help. I’m in the middle of a similar problem. Just started a new drug, xtandi, and my PSA dropped from the mid 70s to about 17. A month later it was 23. A month after that 16. None of this jumping around surprised the oncologist. My take is you need to let the emotions flow and then remember you’re still here to live one more day.
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Thanks, Jim. You’re right, and I’m sorry to hear that you’re on a similar adventure. Your journey has been far more arduous and the grace with which you’ve traveled it is an inspiration.
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Thank you, I really appreciate your comments. I’m going to post soon about my current situation. Thru an odd turn of events I now feel better than I have in five years.
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Thanks, everyone. Today was a much better (although not perfect) day than yesterday after venting like Vesuvius. Guess we all have our moments.
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Yup, cancer cells and spreadsheet cells often don’t mix! There are times when it is good to beat the hell out of something (even my granddaughter said she sometimes likes slamming doors, but I told her that once when I did that I had to spend the rest of the day putting it back on its hinges) even if its only virtually via the keyboard.
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Thanks, Tim. Your tale of your granddaughter put a smile on my face. No damage around the house here. Yet.
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No apology needed, no one is offended. The only offensive thing is the fucking cancer. Fucking is not the best word as for most of us fucking is finished. We do have love though and that trumps fucking every time. My cancer has taught me that, and some other lessons such as who my true friends are.
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Thanks. It is amazing what we learn about relationships going through this process. And your comment about the end of fucking was priceless—made me laugh out loud.
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Hi Dan. Coping with both the physical and emotional sides of this situation is very challenging. I hope sharing with your wordpress community helps. Cheers, Phil
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Thanks, Phil. It absolutely did. Back to being my normal goofy self today.
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