Month 184 – PSMA Explained & Next Steps

After last week’s PSMA PET scan, I did a little more digging into how the scans work, and why they don’t work for 10% to 20% of patients.

Prostate specific membrane antigen (PSMA) is a protein that’s found in healthy prostate cells, and it continues to exist in prostate cancer cells in most, but not all, cases.

PSMA in Imaging

Researchers found a way to attach a radioactive tracer to the PSMA proteins which would light up when seen in a PET scan, indicating the presence of cancer. Gallium-68 is the most commonly used tracer, with fluorine-18 also being used.

When the tracer is injected into the patient, it seeks out cells that have expressed the PSMA protein and attaches to them. The PET scanner then looks for areas where there is a build-up of the tracer to indicate where the cancer is located.

I’m going to use a grossly over-simplified analogy based on my reading as a lay person.

We all know that magnets are attracted to steel or iron. Imagine that the cancer cells with the PSMA protein are small steel ball bearings, and the radioactive tracer is a bunch of tiny magnets. Inject the magnets into your system, and they go in search of the steel ball bearings. When they find them, they attach, and the PET scan can see where all the magnets are located.

But for those patients whose cancer cells do not have the PSMA protein, that essentially means that the cancer cells are plastic balls, and the magnets that were injected will never attach to them. The PET scan won’t see any build-up of magnets/cancer cells.

Based on my experience with four PSMA PET scans, I believe that I’m in that 10% group and that my cancer cells do not express the PSMA protein—they’re the plastic balls.

PSMA in Treatment

In addition to using PSMA positive cells for imaging purposes, researchers have also recently developed a treatment that uses the PSMA positive cells. It goes by the brand name Pluvicto, but also known as Lutetium-177–PSMA-617.

It’s only used on patients with castration-resistant prostate cancer that have PSMA proteins.

The difference between using gallium-68 or fluorine-18 and lutetium-177 is that the lutetium is a radioactive material that attaches to the PSMA protein cells and delivers beta particle radiation to kill the cells.

This means that for those patients whose cancer doesn’t express the PSMA protein, this treatment option would not be available.

Alternative Imaging

On the good news front, there are other imaging options out there, one of which is Axumin (18F-fluciclovine). Instead of targeting PSMA in the cancer cells, it looks at the amino acids.

Axumin scans aren’t as sensitive as PSMA PET scans, but they are more sensitive than choline-11 scans.

At my current PSA level (2.52 ng/mL), the Axumin scan should have a decent chance of finding something.

In a conversation in a prostate cancer forum, I learned that one patient had used the gallium-68 tracer for his PSMA PET scans with the same results as mine, but they switched to PYLARIFY (piflufolastat F 18) as the tracer (which also attaches to the PSMA) and found four lesions using the different radiotracer. I know that one anecdotal case doesn’t mean much, but it’s something I can ask my team about.

Skip Imaging?

You may recall that, at one point, I had conflicting guidance from the urologist and oncologist on when to start androgen deprivation (hormone) therapy (ADT). One said when we saw metastasis, and the other said when my PSA hit 2.0 ng/mL. Clearly, I’ve passed the 2.0 threshold with my latest PSA results.

I went back and recalculated my PSA doubling time using only the last four values dating back to 10 March 2025. (The fourth and fifth values that I used before are 0.94 (January 2025) and 0.95 (March 2025), so having them so close may have skewed the results a little. When I used all five data points, my PSADT was 10.1 months; when I use the last four data points, it’s 8.9 months.

Given I’m past the PSA threshold (for one doctor) and the fact my PSADT is less than 10 months, I’m also wondering if there’s any value in continuing in the efforts to try and find the lesions. Or is is better, given how my PSA is increasing, to go ahead and just resign myself to the fact that I have micrometastases someplace and start the ADT sooner rather than later? In the time that it takes to schedule another scan, regardless of the type, my PSA could be well over 3.0 and even pushing 4.0.

That leads me to another question. If we do start the ADT and it knocks my PSA down to <0.1 like it did when I had it for salvage radiation therapy, does that mean that scans wouldn’t be able to locate the cancer while on ADT?

To my way of thinking, knowing where the cancer is at is important, even if it means letting the PSA run unabated for a short while longer. But what the hell do I know? I’m all ears for experiences from others that may have been in the same or similar situation.

Summary

Again, this is my lay person interpretation of things that I’ve researched, so please take this with a pound of salt. If you know I’m wrong on my interpretation, please let me know and provide references as to why I’m wrong. I want to learn.

You can rest assured, though, that this will be a part of my conversation with my team on 24 March.

Stay tuned for more.

Be well.

Header image: Desert wildflowers, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California

Day 5,593 ¾ – Scan Results

In the hour or so since my last post, my scan results were posted online:

“No evidence of recurrent prostate cancer or metastatic disease.”

<Sigh>

Needless to say, I have mixed emotions about these results.

I just want an explanation so that we can figure out next steps. After four scans with the same results, I’m of the mindset that I’m in the 10% of patients for whom PSMA PET scans don’t work.

You can bet I’ll be talking about other imaging options during my upcoming appointment, as well as any other plausible explanations for what’s going on.

At this point, I’m tired, frustrated, and stymied.

Day 5,593 ½ – Scan No. 4 Completed

My fourth PSMA PET scan is in the books. If I keep this up, I should join a PSMA PET scan loyalty club—have five scans and get the sixth one free.

It started with me drinking 500 ml of water two hours before the the scan. On arrival, I was weighed (I guess to help calculate how much Gallium-68 to inject?), and the tech started an IV. He walked away and wheeled in a cart with a small, lined box containing the injection syringe, and pushed the glow juice into my arm through the IV.

Once the juice was in, he removed the IV, and I leaned back in my recliner for the hour-long wait for the juice to make its way through my system. At the end of the hour, we headed to the scanner room where I emptied my pockets, jumped on the scanner table, and got strapped in so my arms wouldn’t move.

The scanner wasn’t claustrophobic for me, and it took 41 minutes to run up my body (they start at the thighs and work their way up to the head).

When I was through, I hopped off the table, collected my things, and headed home.

I have to admit that when I walked out of the hospital, I was really surprised by how much my body and mind unwound from the apparent subconscious nervous tension I was harboring. Going into it, I didn’t seem fazed by it all. It was routine for me. Heck, I’m on a first-name basis with the nuclear medicine tech (we’ll call him Sam) because he’s done all three of my scans at the VA. But apparently my subconscious had a different experience. Oh well. Nothing a good nap won’t cure.


I asked Sam how quickly the results would be available, and he said it could be as soon as this afternoon, but within 48 hours if they’re not.

From my previous scans with Sam, I’ve learned to not even think of asking him if he saw anything of concern during the course of the scan. He resoundingly (and rightly) always answered that it’s up to the doctor to interpret and provide the results.

I’ve also come to know that, for Sam, bedside manners seem to be optional. He’s not unprofessional in any way, but he is all business and sometimes even borders on the grumpy side. As I was leaving, Sam said something in such a way that he let his tough façade down. His voice became just a hint softer as he said, “You take care now” in a caring way.

Of course, that caught my attention and got my mind racing. I’m really, really, really trying not to read too much into that and get ahead of the actual results, but he said it two more times before I left. That makes me wonder what he saw that may have changed his demeanor.

Of course, my exhausted Gallium-68-infused brain may be making all this crap up, and I may get a good laugh out of it in a day or two. Or not.

As usual, stay tuned for the next chapter in this saga. I have my appointment to go over the results on 24 March.

Be well!

Header image: Anza-Borrego Desert, California

Day 5,237 – PSA and PSMA PET Scan Results

I’m so over this.

Click to enlarge

On the whole, the news is good. My PSA just barely bumped up from 0.94 ng/mL in January to 0.95 ng/mL in March and, taking the last five readings, that increased my PSA doubling time from 7.7 months to 10 months.

The PSMA PET scan revealed “no evidence of prostate cancer or metastatic disease.”

So, if the news is good, why am I “so over this?”

I was really hoping that this third PSMA PET scan would bring some clarity as to where the cancer was located so we could know how to proceed—even if it meant revealing metastatic disease. It’s frustrating because we know the cancer is somewhere and because we know the PSA almost tripled between 19 January 2024 and 16 January 2025, but we don’t have enough information to do anything about it. It’s just more waiting in limbo.

Of course, having had three PSMA PET scans all turn up negative makes me question if I’m in that “lucky” category of ten percent of patients whose prostate cancer doesn’t express PSMA, making the scans useless for me. It’s something that I’ll definitely discuss with the doctor at my next appointment on 1 April 2025. I vaguely recall that there’s some sort of genomic test that may be able to assess if I really do fall into that ten percent. I’ll have to do some research on that.

Maybe, too, I’ve placed too much faith in the scan’s ability to detect anything at my PSA level. But with a PSA level hovering around 1.0 ng/mL I thought we would have a decent chance of detecting something (chart below).

Detection Rate on a Patient Basis Stratified by PSA and Region Tr indicates prostate bed only; N1, pelvic nodes only; M1, extrapelvic only. Proportion of patients with 68Ga-PSMA-11 PET positive findings were stratified by PSA range and region of disease in accordance with PROMISE. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30920593/

Needless to say, I’m truly glad that my PSA didn’t rocket even higher and that my scan didn’t light up like Times Square. Having definitive answers, though, would be the icing on the cake.


As far as the PSMA PET scan itself, it was pretty easy and took two hours to go through the entire process. I was instructed to drink 500 ml of water starting 2 hours before the scheduled scan time, and that was the only preparation needed.

I arrived at the hospital at 8 a.m. and was brought back to a radiation-proofed exam room where the technician started and IV at around 8:15 a.m. The 68Ga tracer was ready for injection around 8:40 a.m.

Around 9:30 a.m., the technician brought me back to the scanner where I got positioned on the bed and we began the scan which took 45 minutes. The scanner was very quiet (I could have dozed off) and large enough that it wasn’t claustrophobic. I was out of there by 10:15 a.m. and on my way home. Piece of cake.


On a related note, this was the longest it’s ever taken me to get the PSA test results posted online (hence the delay in this post). I actually called the clinic to get them over the phone because they still weren’t available online today (Thursday). The nurse I spoke with was very helpful and said, “We’re facing staffing issues and, well…” stopping herself in mid-sentence, probably remembering that the call was being recorded and not wanting to make a statement about the current environment for VA employees at the moment. I fear that this may be a precursor of things to come.

Be well!

Gallium supply to the U.S. cut off by China

This headline on the AP News feed caught my attention this morning:

China bans exports to US of gallium, germanium, antimony in response to chip sanctions

When you read the article, it omits any reference to gallium being used in medical diagnostics, so I have to wonder if this ban will adversely impact the ability to do 68Ga PSMA PET scans.

That question led me to a quick Google search on the production of 68Ga that yielded:

I’m no nuclear physicist or radiopharmaceutical guy but, given that process outlined above, it sounds to this layperson that PSMA PET scans could possibly be impacted.

Or I could be completely out to lunch, reading far too much into the story.

It’s definitely something to keep and eye on going forward, as I’m guessing another PSMA PET scan is in my future in January or February.

Day 4,832 – PSMA PET Scan Results

No evidence of recurrent prostate cancer or metastatic disease.

I know I should be excited but, at the same time, I don’t think I’ve been so frustrated by “good” news. Thanks to the steady increase in my PSA, we know something is happening somewhere, and I was really hoping this scan would end the game of cat-and-mouse that we’ve been playing trying to determine where the cancer is and what to do next. It didn’t.

Even though I recognized going into the scan that, at my PSA level (0.37 ng/mL), there was an approximate 40% chance of detecting something, I was hopeful it would come up with something this time. Silly me and my expectations.

Detection Rate on a Patient Basis Stratified by PSA and Region Tr indicates prostate bed only; N1, pelvic nodes only; M1, extrapelvic only. Proportion of patients with 68Ga-PSMA-11 PET positive findings were stratified by PSA range and region of disease in accordance with PROMISE. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30920593/

The other thing I’m beginning to wonder is if I’m in that 10% of patients for whom PSMA PET scans don’t work. (You may recall that being mentioned in this video from the PCRI: Rising PSA After Prostatectomy.) I have to dig into that more to see if it’s just PSMA PET scans that use Gallium-68 as the tracer, or if that applies to any PSMA PET scan regardless of the tracer used. I’m guessing it’s the latter.

Choline and Axumin scans are another option, but they don’t start reliably picking up cancer locations until the PSA is at 1.0 ng/mL or higher. Assuming my current PSA doubling time (6.2 months) remains steady, that means waiting another 11 months before I hit 1.0 ng/mL for those scans to have a chance of seeing anything.

I’ll be putting together my list of questions for the urologist appointment on 13 February (I’m open to suggestions). I suspect we’ll have a good discussion on subsequent PSA testing, the value of knowing where the cancer is located at this point, and when to start hormone therapy.

Again, the silver lining in this is that my scan didn’t light up like the Las Vegas strip. I need to keep that in mind.

Happy Friday!

Day 4,830 – PSMA PET Scan

PSMA PET scan No. 2 is behind me.

This was different from and easier than the first one. That’s because the VA just did a PET scan today, whereas my scan at UCLA included a CT scan on top of the PET scan.

That fact really didn’t occur to me until all was said and done. I’ll have to ask the doctor about the đifferent approaches.

In any case, today they juiced me up with Gallium-68 shortly after arrival. About 45 minutes later, I was on the scanner table ready to go. I barely felt the table move me through the scanner, and it took about 45 minutes to complete the scan.

Of course, the technician wouldn’t give me any sneak peak insights. “The doctor will interpret the scan.” I expect it could take a week or so for me to see any notes in my online records.

Again, even with my PSA closing in on 0.40 ng/mL, there’s only about a 50-50 chance it will give us any useful information at that PSA level. (As a refresher, my PSA going into the UCLA scan was 0.22 ng/mL.)

More to come.

Day 4,054 – PSMA PET Results

They were late. I hate tardiness. 🙂

Again, going into this, I knew that there was a 50-50 shot that the PSMA PET scan would be able to pick up anything at my PSA level, and it appears that I fell into the “we didn’t see anything” category:

ONCOLOGIC FINDINGS:

History of prostate cancer status post prostatectomy with biochemical
recurrence with:
– No focal PSMA-uptake in the prostatectomy bed.
– No PSMA-PET/CT evidence for distant metastasis.

The fact that they didn’t see anything in my prostate bed and elsewhere is both a good and bad thing. Good, in that whatever cancer may be there was so small that the scan couldn’t pick it up. Bad, in that the scan wasn’t sensitive enough to pick things up at my PSA level (0.22 ng/ml).

As a reminder, I’m just looking at the printout of my results online, and am not yet in a conversation with my doctor about the results, so I’m a little reluctant to come to too many conclusions about some other comments in the report without the benefit of his expertise. There was a section labeled:

INDETERMINATE FINDING:

– Focus of intense PSMA-uptake at the left lung lower lobe (fused 4-263)
without CT correlate, likely a PSMA injection thrombus, not favored to
represent metastatic disease.
Attention on follow up.

I added the emphasis above, but it’s something that raises an eyebrow and probably warrants further monitoring or investigation as suggested. That’s something I’ll speak with the doctor about.

Speaking of speaking with the doctor, when I had my appointment in early November, we agreed to schedule a follow-up appointment to go over the scan results in January. However, the first available appointment wasn’t until the first week of February. I’m going to work on moving that earlier, even if it’s a call-in appointment instead of an in-person appointment.


Am I happy with the results? Sort of.

We know from my rising PSA that there’s cancer somewhere in some quantity. While this may be a “false negative,” it’s nice to know that I didn’t light up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. That would have been bad.

Will this cause me to run to the radiation oncologist to start salvage radiation right away based on my PSA alone? Nope. I have another PSA test in January, and if that stays in the 0.21-0.22 range, I’ll be content to continue my monitoring. But if it shoots up drastically, that may cause me to reconsider.

Was it worth $3,300 out-of-pocket? I don’t know. I’m going to get back to you on that one. 🙂

So that’s my PSMA PET scan story, and I’m sticking to it.

If I don’t post again before Christmas, I hope you have a great holiday season!

Be well!

Month 133 – Waiting for PSMA PET Results

As is often the case with medical tests, there’s a bunch of waiting involved. Even though the PSMA PET scan technician told me that the doctors would review the scan and have the results in 1-2 business days, apparently that didn’t mean that I’d have access to them right away.

After a week or so of hopping online, I emailed UCLA Nuclear Medicine to ask when I would be able to view the results on my online account. Their response:

Your results are set to auto-release in your account on 12/16/21 after 3:41pm.

Now that’s a rather specific date and time which seems quite unusual to me, but at least I have an answer. (It reminds me of my Navy days; see my sea story below.)

That would be my one complaint with UCLA. While the staff administering the scan was very patient-centric, the administrative end—not so much. I guess when you go to a world-renowned medical treatment facility, you’re just one of thousands and thousands of patients and personal attention becomes more challenging.

On a related note, I also alerted the VA San Diego to be on the lookout for the results and to contact me when they come in. So far, no luck.

More to come.


When I was a Surface Warfare Officer in the U.S. Navy, I qualified as Officer of the Deck, which meant that I stood watches on the bridge of the ship and was responsible for everything that went on during my 4-6 hour shift.

The captain of the ship (of all Navy ships) had something called Standing Night Orders for the Officers of the Deck to follow at night while the captain was asleep in his cabin. In the standing night orders, there was a place for the captain to write down whether or not he wanted a wake-up call and, if so, at what time.

On one of my first overnight watches with this captain, he put down that he wanted a wake-up call at 5:28 a.m.

That morning, I was busy with my head in the radar scope hood, trying to track and avoid colliding with another ship, and I missed the 5:28 a.m. call to the captain. But not to worry.

At 5:29 a.m., he was standing on the bridge in full uniform, brusquely asking, “Why didn’t you call me at 5:28 a.m.???”

Prick.

Fortunately, we had a change of command and received a new, human captain about 6 weeks later.

Day 4,039 – PSMA PET Scan Completed

It’s over. The photos for my holiday cards are taken and ready to be processed. Look for a Christmas card with a cross section of my pelvis coming to you soon!

I had my 68Ga PSMA-11 PET and CT scans yesterday. In short, all went well but the technician couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell me if the scan lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. She said that images had to be processed first, and that she wasn’t trained to interpret them anyway. The doctors would have to do that in 1-2 business days.

The whole process took just under four hours—from the time I left my car in the parking garage to the time I got back in it.

The Process

Arrival

I checked into the Department of Nuclear Medicine about 40 minutes before my scheduled appointment (I was told 7 a.m. by the booking representative), and was told that my appointment was actually at 7:45 a.m. Oh well. It gave us a little time to complete the necessary paperwork and payment.

You’ll have several forms to complete, mostly asking about your current health status and history. Pretty easy. Just check the boxes and sign. You’ll also get one of those plastic wristbands with all of your information on it placed on your wrist. Mine initial band had my wrong birthday on it, so we had to have that corrected and a new wristband printed.

If you’re like me and your paying for it out of pocket, this is also where they’ll ask for your credit card (no cash or check) and charge the $3,300 fee.

Preparations

After you’re checked in, they’ll let the staff know that you’re there ready to begin the preparation process.

In the preparation room, the technician will insert an IV catheter into your arm that will be used to inject the 68Ga tracer and iodine contrast. As he does this, he’ll go through a very thorough explanation of what to expect once the scans begin.

He will also prepare another contrast that you take orally. It’s about 1 to 1.25 liters of a slightly yucky-tasting solution that you have to consume over the course of 45 minutes. They’ll also want you to reserve about 6 to 8 ounces of the fluid to gulp down just before you go in the scan. They want to have it in your stomach and not your intestinal tract. But you can’t start ingesting any of this until the 68Ga tracer is injected into your arm.

I believe that they actually manufacture the tracer on the spot for each patient. This is because, with its relatively short half-life, they can’t have it sitting around on a shelf waiting to be used.

When he returned with the 68Ga tracer, it was in this cute little container that I’m guessing was lead-lined to contain the radiation. He connected it to the IV catheter, juiced me up, and instructed me to start drinking the solution.

The last thing that he did was give me a little, “This guy is radioactive,” card to show to the authorities should I happen to set off sensors at airport or border security check points. Thankfully, I drove, so it wasn’t a concern for me.

That whole process took a little over an hour.

The Scans

Once you’re primed and ready to go, they’ll take you to the scanning room but they’ll ask you to stop by the toilet to empty your bladder first.

Interestingly the only articles of clothing that I had to remove were my shoes and jeans. Actually, they gave me the option of just pulling my jeans down below my knees or wearing a pair of hospital-provided pajama bottoms. I opted for comfort and the pajama bottoms.

They’ll place you on your back on the scanner bed and place a little cushion under your knees to make you feel a little more comfortable and, I suppose, to help better position you for the scan. You’ll raise both arms over your head and you’ll have to keep them there throughout the scan.

They’ll use your IV catheter to inject some iodine as a contrast. For me, the last time I had a CT scan and they injected the iodine, I became rather nauseated and told this technician about that incident.

She told me that they inject the contrast at a much slower rate than what’s used for a normal CT, and that should lessen the effects of the nausea. Even so, for insurance purposes, we put a little bib around my neck and a towel on my left shoulder just in case. “Try not to move your body if you do vomit.” Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Fortunately, she was right about the slower injection rate. The feeling was there briefly, but much less intense that before.

They’ll start with the PET scan first while the 68Ga tracer is still pretty strong, and it probably took about 25-35 minutes (I couldn’t see a clock for reference). Your only task is to stay completely still throughout. At the very beginning, you’ll be asked twice to inhale and hold your breath for about 10 seconds. After that, you just lay there, close your eyes, and enjoy the ride. (The scanning machine is nearly silent.)

Once the PET scan is done, they’ll send you off to the toilet once again to empty your bladder before the CT scan.

You’ll get back in position onto the scanner bed just as before—knees propped up and arms above the head—and they’ll begin the CT scan. The technician said it would take 8 minutes, but it seemed closer to 15 minutes to me.

When you’re done with the CT scan, you’re done. You get dressed and head home—I didn’t have to stop at the reception desk afterwards. They will tell you, however, to drink lots of fluids (preferably water) to flush the contrasts from your system.

They will forward the results to the physician who ordered the scan.

Effects

Aside from a slight metallic taste in my mouth and being really hungry after fasting in advance of the scans, I felt fine leaving the hospital. My shoulders were a little sore from holding my arms above my head for an hour or so, and that was about it.

When I arrived home, though, it all caught up with me. I was spent.

During the whole process, I felt very calm and relaxed, so I didn’t think it was stress-related fatigue, but I guess our subconscious can play games with us. It may have had something to do with waking up at 4 a.m. and not being able to fall back asleep, too. Or a combination of all of the above. Regardless, I just crashed on the sofa and took a nap.

One other thing that happened yesterday afternoon was that I had a bunch of gremlins doing a jig in my stomach that caused me to run to the toilet half a dozen or so times. (TMI, I know.) Whether it was related to the contrasts or the hot giardiniera peppers I had on my Italian beef sandwich at lunch, I don’t know. Needless to say, it wasn’t anticipated either way. I’m better this morning, with a few lingering grumbles going on down there.

Logistics

Scheduling

Regular readers already know the hassle I went through trying to get San Diego VA Medical Center to talk with UCLA Department of Nuclear Medicine, so I won’t rehash that here. Needless to say, be persistent if you encounter similar issues.

I did find it interesting that the scheduler told me my appointment was at 7 a.m. when it was actually at 7:45 a.m. I’m not sure how or where that disconnect came into play.

Lodging

Because my appointment was so early in the morning, I opted to drive from San Diego to Los Angeles the afternoon before and stay in a nearby hotel to the tune of $216. Apparently, UCLA has its own hotel at the convention center, but the price would be about the same, if not more.

Location

Obviously, UCLA is a huge campus and I wished that the scheduling office provided more information about where the building was, where to park, and where the Nuclear Medicine department was located when they set the appointment. They provided nothing until I asked.

They are located at 200 Medical Plaza Driveway Suite B114, Los Angeles, CA 90095.

When you pull in from Westwood Blvd. to Medical Plaza Driveway, you’ll turn right but will want to be in the left lane to enter the parking garage (red arrows below).

Entrance to parking garage from Westwood Blvd (red line) and walk inside the building from the lobby to the North Elevators (blue line). Photo from Google Maps.
Entrance to parking garage (red arrow) and walk along the front of the building (inside) from the lobby to the North Elevators. Photo from Google Maps.

Once you’re in the parking garage, you can take the elevators on the west side of the building up to the lobby. You’ll walk all the way across the lobby and follow the signs for the North Elevators (blue line above). Take the North Elevators down to Level B1 and the Nuclear Medicine department is right off the elevators in Suite B114.

Parking is $14 per day and, no, they won’t validate your parking ticket even after spending $3,300.

Final Thoughts

First, the staff in the Nuclear Medicine department were amazingly friendly and caring. It made the whole experience all that much better.

Second, I’ll have to admit that I second-guessed myself in wanting to have to get this done after the insurance company denied the payment. Not because of the cost (although it’s not insignificant), but because I knew from my own research that the 68Ga PSMA-11 PET scans are better at picking up the location of the cancer when the PSA level is 1.0 ng/ml (the insurance company threshold), than at my 0.22 ng/ml PSA level. Am I wasting $3,300 on a crap shoot? We’ll soon find out.

Finally, there’s the, “If you can’t stand the answer, don’t ask the question,” factor in play here. If the scan wasn’t a crap shoot and does, in fact, reveal the location of the cancer, the pressure to act (i.e., salvage radiation) goes up by an order of magnitude. As you already know, I’ve been trying to dodge the short and long-term toxicities of salvage radiation for quite some time now, and my preference would be to continue to do that for as long as I can. There will be more research and decisions in the days and weeks ahead, that’s for certain.

Let’s just hope that getting the results from UCLA to VA San Diego won’t be as difficult as getting them to talk to each other in the first place.

Happy December! Be well!

Cover photo from Google Maps