Last night I went to bed around 11:30 after watching a rerun of Saving Private Ryan on television, and I didn’t have any problem falling asleep. I was feeling a bit run down, so I closed my curtains and didn’t set the alarm for this morning.

I guess my body needed the rest. The next time I looked at the clock, it was just after 11:00 AM! Yikes!

Saturday night I felt as though I was getting a few sniffles and they seemed to persist through today. I’ve really tried to keep healthy through this, and the last thing that I want to get is a head cold right now. It may be enough to postpone the surgery.

If that happens, I’ll be pissed. There are too many wheels in motion that will have to be brought to a screeching halt—the leave has been approved; I’ve got announcements out and back-ups in place at work; and others have adjusted their schedule to support me (my sister, specifically).

If I’m still sniffling in the morning, I’ll call Dr. Cincy’s office and see what they recommend.

Up until this development, I’d been doing pretty well. I really haven’t been getting panicky about the surgery at all, which surprises even me knowing how much of a nervous Nelly I can be.

---

Despite all that, I moved forward as if the surgery will happen and I did finish some last minute shopping today. Some fresh fruit and family packs of pork chops and chicken breasts. I individually wrapped and froze the meat so I can pull it out of the freezer as I need it.

I also made the leap and bought my first package of Depends adult diapers for when the catheter comes out and I get to regain control over my bladder. At least they had the little blue prostate cancer ribbon on the package so that if anyone said anything, I could point to it and say, “This is why.” No one said anything.

---

So I’m going to call it an early night, get as much rest as I can, and see how I feel in the morning. I’m supposed to stop eating tomorrow and start the bowel prep at 10 AM, so I’ll try to have a determination by then. I’d hate to go through all that, take two different types of antibiotics, and then have the surgery postponed.

I’ll do a bonus posting on the blog mid-morning to let you know the outcome. Nothing like a little last-minute drama to spice up the day, is there?

The first day of the New Year was a quiet one of just hanging out around the house, updating records for the end of the year; doing a couple of loads of laundry; catching up with some friends on the phone; fixing dinner.

I do remember having a rather vivid dream about the surgery this morning, so that must mean that I was in full REM sleep. It wasn’t a bad dream—just observing the surgery from within the operating room, as I recall.

That’s about it.

Think back 11 years ago to December 31, 1999 and how everyone was stockpiling things in anticipation of the world coming to a halt as we knew it because computers around the world would crash, wreaking havoc upon all civilization… My shopping cart at Kroger this morning looked a bit like that of one of those panicky Y2K-ers.

I stocked up on all of the essentials in anticipation of my being housebound for two to three weeks. All of the items were nonperishable (paper towels, Kleenex, laundry detergent, etc.) or canned goods. I’ll hold off on buying fresh foods till Monday morning. Now, if I need someone to run to the grocery store for me, it will only be for a few fresh things—loaf of bread, bunch of bananas, etc.

---

About 4:00 PM yesterday afternoon, I called Dr. Cincy’s office to confirm the surgery preps one last time, and I asked if Dr. Cincy could call me at his convenience sometime between then and when he stuck a knife in me next week. The last time we talked, I felt as though we left the lymph node removal discussion open, so I wanted to make sure that he and I were on the same page (remove them).

At 9:00 AM this morning, my home phone rang and it was Dr. Cincy calling from his home to answer my questions and review what was going to be done during the operation. Yes, I selected the right surgeon.

---

We had remarkably warm weather here today—in the mid 60’s!! On New Year’s Eve!

I cleaned the salt and dirt out of the garage from the snow that melted off my vehicles, and I ran one of them through the car wash. Of course, an hour later, it’s getting rained on. Oh well. At least all the salt and road grime are off it.

I decided to make a dry run to the hospital this afternoon just to be sure that I knew the tricks of how to get there, much like an expectant father rehearses before the delivery. Don’t expect a birth announcement, however… “Dan delivered a 45g tumor at 3:45 PM…”

---

Finally, it will be a quiet New Year’s Eve here, and that’s the norm for me. I’m not much of a reveler when it comes to ringing in a New Year. Turn on the television about 5 minutes before the big moment, watch the ball drop in Times Square, and call it a night. Woo-hoo! 🙂

I wish everyone a happy, healthy, and prosperous 2011!

All systems ”Go.” The CT scan, X-ray, and physical all came out fine, so I’ve been given the green light to go ahead with the surgery next week.

You would have thought coming out of the doctor’s office after the physical, that I would have been relieved and upbeat. I wasn’t expecting the, “Oh, s**t, this is really happening… SOON!” reaction. It was as though someone instantly turned up the anxiety knob. My life is about to be irreversibly changed forever. Oh crap.

I try to remember the key four-letter word in that last paragraph: Life. I’m doing this to extend my life as long as possible, but the reality of all of the changes that will be coming make keeping that perspective a challenge.

That said, as the surgery grows closer, I am being optimistic about the outcome, but I’m also being pragmatic about it as well.

To me, the surgery is only the first step in becoming cancer-free. Just because the prostate is yanked out doesn’t guarantee that I’ll be cancer free. The same thing applies to any lymph nodes that may be taken during the surgery. The only thing the surgery will tell us is how far the cancer has gone, and we’ll have to wait a week or so to get the pathology results back on the prostate and lymph nodes before we even know that answer.

Even if the pathology comes back negative for positive margins (meaning no cancer cells at the incision point), or if the lymph nodes are negative, I’ll still have another step to take before knowing that I’m cancer-free. That’s waiting the 8-12 weeks for the post-surgery PSA test.

So while I’m confident the mechanical part of the surgery will go as planned without complications, you probably won’t see me popping champagne corks or doing a little celebratory jig until sometime in April.

---

You’ve probably noticed that I haven’t commented much about my sleeping pattern lately. That’s because it’s actually been quite good. Except for one weird thing.
On those nights when I do wake up in the middle of the night, nine times out of ten (check my spreadsheet!), it’s between 1:00 AM and 2:00 AM (mostly between 1:00 AM and 1:30 AM). Weird, huh? I think so.

It doesn’t seem to be tied to running to the bathroom or what time I go to bed; nor can I think of any external influence that’s causing it—furnace kicking in, neighbor coming home, train passing through town three blocks away, etc. It’s not every night that it happens, but when it does, it’s usually at that time. In fact, two nights I rolled over and looked at the clock and it was 1:09 AM. Both times. (Cue the “Twilight Zone” theme…)

The good news is that I can fall back asleep in short order after looking at the clock and saying, “One o’clock again…”

Just a meaningless observation…

The appointment I had this morning was with my local urologist, but his office here in town was booked this week, so I had to drive the 50 minutes to see him in his Cincinnati office.

We chatted about the differing views that the surgeons had regarding the lymph nodes and he agreed with Dr. Cincy—take ‘em out and make sure there’s no cancer in them. (I didn’t tell him which doctor recommended what.)

We also talked about some intermittent discomfort I’ve been having in my back near the left kidney (the one that produced the kidney stone almost six years ago). He ordered an x-ray and CT scan just to take a look and see. If there is any sign of a kidney stone, they would want to deal with that before doing the surgery.

He asked if I could do the scan this afternoon, and I said, “Yep. This is at the top of my priority list right now.” However, I was looking forward to playing in Cincinnati this afternoon. He scheduled the scan back here at the hospital at home, so that meant driving the 50 minutes back to get the scan.

Fortunately, the Radiology department at the hospital wasn’t busy, and I was in and out of there in less than half an hour. The CT scan technician hinted that he didn’t see anything, but the radiologist would review the scans and have the results tomorrow.

After the scan, I returned home for lunch. As I sat there, munching on my spinach and spring greens salad (turning over a new dietary leaf!), I thought, I’m going to go out and play. Back in the car and back to Cincinnati to do the things that I planned on doing before the CT scan got in the way.

So now I’m back home to a pile of stuff that I’ll tackle in the morning before my final pre-surgery physical tomorrow afternoon.

Today’s emotions were a bit like the weather: Sunny and bright in the morning, giving way to clouds in the afternoon.

I started the morning running a few errands. First, paying and mailing another medical bill; second, running to the bank to deposit a check; third, calling the surgeon’s office to confirm the instructions for the day before; and finally, a run to the pharmacy to drop off two prescriptions that I’ll have to take the day before the surgery.

The call to the surgeon was a kicker. In a nutshell, I’m not supposed to have ANY solid food AT ALL during the day before the surgery. No breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snacks. I forewarned her that she’ll have one grumpy-assed patient on her hands on the day of the surgery. She laughed. The other fun part is that I get to repeat the “internal cleansing” that I did for the colonoscopy. Yippeee!

After lounging around in my new robe all day yesterday, I knew that I had to formally cancel the scheduled surgery date with Dr. Indy. His assistant coincidentally called just as I was sitting down to write the e-mail to her. I think she was a bit miffed, but so was I. If a doctor never answers your follow-up questions, it’s time to find a new doctor.

I had lunch at home and then headed to Indianapolis to take advantage of some of the post-Christmas sales. Macy’s had a deal on t-shirts and underwear, so I picked up some new t-shirts and really loose boxers that will accommodate my extra plumbing better than my thongs. (Just checking to see who’s really reading this thing!! 🙂 Of course, with that visual, you’ve probably been blinded and won’t be able to read another word.)

So after getting the essentials taken care of, I headed off to Best Buy and one of the malls to see what kind of trouble that I could get into. That’s when the emotional skies turned from sunny to gray.

You all know me. Normally when I shop, I hesitate because I haven’t done my Consumer Reports analysis before making the purchase (see section on surgeon selection). That’s just me. But now, I hesitate before purchasing anything for a different reason.

I hesitate because I ask, “What if… What if the cancer doesn’t go away?” It’s not a strong feeling. It’s not a dire feeling. It’s just one of being practical. “Do I really need this…? Will I be able to use it?” I hate that I think in those terms, even if only for a few seconds. I’d much rather think, “What’s the user rating on this product? How many stars did it get?”

You’ll be happy to know that I just muscled through those feelings and bought what I wanted this afternoon, cancer be damned! 🙂 As one friend reminded me, “I’ve never seen a funeral with the hearse towing a U-haul trailer filled with money.” You can’t take it with you, right?

Besides, what I bought was something practical and will be used whether I’m cancer-free or still fighting this: new cookware. My old set is nearly 17 years old and the non-stick coating just isn’t functioning the way it should any longer.

I’ve got some more pre-surgery tests tomorrow and a physical on Thursday. If those go well, then we’re on for next week. And I’ll have to admit that the anxiety level is beginning its slow but steady climb. That’s to be expected.

So that’s it. Time to un-box my new cookware.