Day 5,635 – Unexpected Call

I’m not sure how I managed it, but I picked up a nasty head cold after yesterday’s meeting with the oncologist. Perhaps it was from being at the hospital two days in a row, or from me riding our commuter-packed light rail system to get to the hospital (stops right at the hospital) that did me in, but whatever bug I caught kicked in around 5 p.m. yesterday.

Around 7 p.m. tonight, I was nursing the head cold, watching the ballgame on television when my phone rang, and I was surprised to see it was a call from the VA.

It was the head of the urology department inquiring about continuing my pelvic floor therapy at a community provider. (You may recall that I started that back in December, and the original end date of the therapy was 2 April.) I told her that the therapist and I agreed that I had plateaued and didn’t see a need for me to continue.

Not one to miss an opportunity, I mentioned me meeting with the oncologists yesterday and asked her for her take on whether starting hormone therapy would be appropriate. I also mentioned the negative scan results. She was more of the mindset of waiting until there was evidence of spread, and she said, “I wouldn’t chase numbers,” when I mentioned my current PSA level.

She noted that I had the follow-up with the oncologists on 2 June and a follow-up with urology on 23 June, and said we can review things then.

Once again, the “experts” offer differing approaches, and it’s up to us, the patient, to pick and choose what’s best. After 15 years, it’s not a surprise, but it still is frustrating at times. MO Jr. did mention that it may be appropriate to convene the “Tumor Board” to get all the key players in the same room and review the case for the best course of action.

At this point, I’m inclined to get the PSA test at the end of May and, with that new information, try to push to get everyone in the same room for a discussion of next steps forward. Or at least have them convene the Tumor Board without me.

In the meantime, I’m just going to curl up in a ball and try to get the worst of this head cold behind me before the weekend.

Be well!

Header image: Anza-Borrego Desert, California

Day 5,615 – Doctor Call

As I was driving to the barber to get my hair cut (both of them), my phone rang. Normally, I avoid phone conversations when I’m driving—even the hands-free, Bluetooth variety—but when the Caller ID popped up on the infotainment screen as being the VA Medical Center, I answered because I thought it might be the Oncology scheduler calling to set up an appointment.

Instead, the call was from the urologist I met on Tuesday to talk about his research and efforts to pursue an Axumin scan. (I sent an email to him yesterday saying that I did a little legwork for him and learned that UCSD still does Axumin PET scans in case the VA didn’t.)

In a nutshell, he contacted the VA nuclear medicine department and, according to him, they were very elusive with him in saying whether they even had the ability to do the scan at the VA and, even if they did, if they would do it considering the PSMA PET scans have replaced it in their minds.

Then the doctor again put his faith in the PSMA PET scan and thought that the Axumin scan wouldn’t provide any useful information. He also mentioned that he looked at the 10% of patients not having PSMA protein and said, from his quick research, it seemed to only been identified in a single study. Unfortunately, that was said at a time when I was more focused on driving than listening, and I’m sure I didn’t fully understand what he was trying to convey.

I was finally able to safely park and give 100% of my attention to the conversation, and he said one other thing that puzzled me. He seemed confident that, because my PSA was rising, I did, in fact, have the PSMA protein. I’m not sure that I agree with that and need to do some digging.

We did talk about having a Pylarify PSMA PET scan which uses a different tracer than the 68-Ga-PSMA-11 PET scans. He thought that that could be a possibility, but wasn’t sure that the VA offered it yet. He knew it had been FDA-approved, but thought that the VA hadn’t developed the protocols for its use yet. I mentioned that when I spoke with UCSD yesterday, they said they had the ability to do Pylarify scans, too.

I asked him about how I might get a referral from him/the VA for me to get the scan on my own, and he thought that there may be a number of bureaucratic hoops to jump through to make that happen, including determining if something was “medically necessary.” He wasn’t exactly sure of the process, especially if I was going to use my own insurance (Medicare).

I just wanted him to confirm that, in his view, there was value in getting a scan to learn the location of the cancer and what it’s doing. He agreed.

I told him that my goal was to find the cancer and, if there were one or two lesions, to do spot radiation to knock them down if they’re in a suitable zapping location. That may help delay the start of ADT. (Or not. I’m not sure if they put patients on ADT when going after oligometastatic lesions.)

Finally, he did ask if I had been scheduled with the oncologist yet, and I have not. He was interested in hearing what they had to say about scans.

Needless to say, the waters have been muddied and I’m a little less confident that I know what’s going to happen next.

I’ll send him an email in the morning recapping our conversation, with an emphasis on his agreement that having a scan at this point is important. Translation: Medical necessity. I’ll also let him know that I’m open to trying any scan that he thinks will work.

I may also ask him to explain again why he is convinced that I have the PSMA protein and why he’s skeptical of the 10% number.

I’ll also try to connect with the oncology schedulers and get that appointment on the books.

I may also look at what it takes to get myself in as a patient at UCSD through either their urology or medical oncology departments. Because UCSD did my salvage radiation therapy in 2022, I may still be in their system, so it may be less difficult than starting from scratch. I’ll have to figure out how to share my VA health records with UCSD if needed.

The saga goes on…

Be well.

Header image: Anza-Borrego Desert, California

Day 5,613 – Doctor Appointment

Those of us of a certain age may remember the “Stump the Band” segment on the Johnny Carson show, where audience members asked the band to play some obscure song. Well, today was my turn at “Stump the Urologist.”

It was a very productive meeting that lasted nearly 40 minutes which was unusual. I came equipped with hard copies of my PSA chart, the MSKCC PSA doubling time (PSA-DT) calculator results, and my list of questions. He was impressed and really pleased with the chart in particular.

We started talking about how my four PSMA PET scans were all inconclusive, and I steered the conversation to whether I might be one of the 10% for whom PSMA PET scans don’t work. He seemed to be a bit skeptical at first, but he also said it was a possibility.

Given that my PSA increased substantially and my PSA-DT was decreasing, I wondered if it would be better to jump into ADT sooner or if there’s still value in trying to find the cancer’s location with imaging. He was of the opinion to continue to try to find it before starting ADT.

I had a series of questions that really dealt specifically with ADT, and he said it was a bit premature to think about those and that they would be better answered by a medical oncologist. I knew that I was jumping the gun with some of them, but I thought I’d ask anyway. During that part of the conversation, I did mention that I tolerated the ADT probably better than most when I had it for my salvage radiation therapy, but that I wasn’t eager to jump into it earlier than necessary.

After that, he took control of the conversation and asked me about my status when it came to sexual function and incontinence, and offered up options to deal with both if I was interested.

Then we returned to the topic of next steps, and that’s where I played “Stump the Urologist.” (Who, by the way, was a full-blown internist and not a resident.) He grabbed my PSA chart and excused himself for a few minutes as he went off to consult with the department head.

When he returned, I was a bit surprised when he put his faith in the results of the PSMA PET scan, saying it has the best sensitivity and the best specificity of any scan out there. He said that they had moved away from the Axumin scans because they were the old technology.

I politely pushed back, reminding him that a PSMA PET scan should have had an 80% – 90% chance of finding my cancer at my PSA level if I had the PSMA protein for the 68-Gallium tracer to lock onto. But if I don’t have that PSMA protein, the sensitivity and specificity of the scan won’t matter because nothing will ever light up. He really couldn’t argue against that.

I went back to the topic of ADT and mentioned that I met with a medical oncologist (MO) two years ago, and received conflicting opinions on when to start ADT. The MO said she would start my ADT when my PSA hit 2.0 ng/mL (a urologist said she wouldn’t start it until there was evidence of metastasis). Today’s urologist said he looks for one of three “triggers” to begin ADT: PSA > 10.0 ng/mL 😲; PSA-DT less than six months; or evidence of metastasis.

I also mentioned that the VA MO that I saw two years ago was a general oncologist and not someone who specialized in genitourinary cancers and, as helpful as she was, she had to consult with a UCSD MO who specifically deals with prostate cancer. I sowed the seed of eliminating the VA MO as a middleman if they have to consistently consult the UCSD doctor (who is highly regarded in the field), and suggested that I could just see him directly. I’m not sure if that will take root.

Finally, I did ask a very basic question given how elusive this has been: Is this even cancer? He said that, if I hadn’t had a prostatectomy, that there might be other explanations for the rising PSA. But he was confident that we are, in fact, dealing with cancer.

That led to a follow-up question of: Is it metastatic? Based on the information we have, he said it’s not. He seemed to squirm a bit when I asked about it being micro-metastatic, because, in his mind, that wasn’t very well-defined.

Before mapping out a plan, I have to admit that my ego puffed up a tad when he said, “You’re the best educated patient I’ve seen in weeks.” He also admitted that my case was a bit puzzling to them and not something they routinely see.

We agreed on three actions:

  • The doctor is going to explore how and where I can get an Axumin scan, and if the VA will authorize it if I have to go outside the VA. That may take a day or two to get an answer. I mentioned that I’d be willing to use Medicare and go out on my own if necessary.
  • He is doing a referral to get me seen by the VA oncology team to get them familiar with my case. I suspect it will take a few days to hear from the scheduler.
  • We do another PSA test in June and meet to see where we’re at.

All in all, this was a good meeting with a robust discussion about my case that has all of us scratching our heads as to what’s going on and what to do next. Frustrating? Yes, to a degree. But, as we discussed during the meeting, nothing is black-and-white in the world of prostate cancer.

More to come.

Be well!


For my readers outside the U.S. who may not be familiar with Johnny Carson, I was going to link a random video clip of his “Stump the Band” segment above and, when I searched YouTube, this—of all clips—was the one that popped up first. I think you’ll see the related humor in it once you watch it. 😂

Header image: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California

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

Month 172 – PSMA PET & PSA

This will be a short update, as not much has really happened in the last month.

Tomorrow, I have my third PSMA PET scan. With luck, we’ll actually find the location of the cancer with this scan. That will help us decide what’s next in this adventure. I suspect I should be able to access the results online within a week or so. If not, I have a follow-up appointment on 1 April with the urologist.

I was going to get my PSA test done next week, but I wasn’t sure what impact a potential government shutdown might have on access to the lab, so I went for the blood draw on Monday. I’m guessing that I’ll break the 1.0 ng/mL threshold with this test.

That’s it for now. More to come in the days ahead.

Header image: Sunset over the Pacific Ocean, Silver Strand State Beach, California

Month 164 – Prostate Cancer Update

To my regular readers, you may want to skip this post. This is a high-level update intended for my family and friends who don’t regularly follow this blog (gasp!), and it will be shared with them via my personal social media accounts. If you’re new here, welcome. Feel free to read away.


It’s been a while since I’ve provided any detailed update on what’s going on in the world of my prostate cancer, so here goes.

We last left our hero two years ago as he began 35 sessions of salvage radiation therapy on 7 July 2022 in attempt to kill off his recurrent prostate cancer after his surgery in January 2011 ultimately failed. Unfortunately, those little cancer cells have proved themselves to be quite resilient, and the salvage radiation therapy has failed, too. Bummer.

We know this by tracking my prostate-specific antigens (PSA) on a regular basis. After the surgery, my PSA level should have dropped to undetectable (zero) because there was no prostate left to produce the PSA. But the PSA can live on in the cancer cells even without a prostate, and that’s how we know the cancer is still there.

After the radiation, my PSA should have dropped substantially, and it did, at least initially. But about 15 months after the radiation ended, my PSA was on the rise again. It rose enough to the surpass the PSA level when we started the radiation. In May 2024, it continued its upward climb to 0.52 ng/mL, the highest it’s been since the surgery. (In the grand scheme of things, it’s still a low value that many fellow prostate cancer patients would love to have, but the fact that it’s doubling about every six months is a concern.)

There is a relatively new scan that can detect prostate cancer cells at fairly low PSA levels. It works best when the PSA is close to 1.0 ng/mL, but it has detected prostate cancer about 30% of the time at PSA levels in the 0.2–0.3 ng/mL range. I went for this PSMA PET scan in January when my PSA was 0.37 ng/mL, and the scan failed to detect anything.

On the one hand, that’s great because there were no signs of metastasis and no evidence of prostate cancer. But on the other hand, we need to know where the cancer is located and what it’s up to in order to plan our next treatment options. Because it didn’t reveal its ugly head, we can’t make any meaningful treatment decisions right now.

If there are one or two small lesions someplace, we may be able to radiate them again depending on their size and location. But if there aren’t any distinct lesions and my PSA continues to increase, that’s likely the result of micrometastases and that would require a systemic treatment approach (e.g., hormone therapy, immunotherapy, chemotherapy, or any combination thereof).

After reviewing my May PSA results with the urologist, we agreed to punt for six months and do another PSA test in late October. I know that seems counterintuitive—letting the cancer continue to grow without taking action—but there’s a reason for it. I’m predicting my PSA at that point will be in the 0.75–1.0 ng/mL range in October, and we’ll do another PSMA PET scan to see if we can determine what’s going on and then plan from there.

Up until this year, all of my conversations have been with the urologist and radiation oncologist. In February, I met with a medical oncologist for the first time because they’re the ones who deal with the systemic treatments.

Based on my conversations with the urologist and medical oncologist, the next logical treatment option is hormone therapy. Prostate cancer lives off of testosterone, so if we kill off the testosterone, we slow the growth of the cancer cells. (Hormone therapy is not curative, however.) But the timing of starting hormone therapy is important.

If we started the hormone therapy now, it would rapidly knock my PSA down so far that it would make it next to impossible to do the PSMA PET scan in November and get any meaningful results.

The other problem with starting hormone therapy too early is that the prostate cancer can become hormone resistant much in the same way that bacteria can become resistant to antibiotics. Start the treatment too early, and you’ll lose its effectiveness when you really need it later.

There seemed to be a differing of opinions between the urologist and the medical oncologist as to what would trigger the start of hormone therapy. The urologist would hold off until there’s evidence of metastasis; the medical oncologist suggested we’d start when my PSA hit 2.0 ng/mL. We can figure that out when the time comes, but both agreed that hormone therapy (and other therapies) can keep me around another 10–15 years (or more).

Of course, my quality of life may be diminished as a result of the treatments. Hormone therapy can come with a whole host of unpleasant side effects such as fatigue, muscle loss, weight gain, loss of libido, hot flashes, etc. No need to rush into that Disneyland of experiences.

Physically, I am feeling fine. I’m completely asymptomatic when it comes to the cancer, but the side effects from the surgery and radiation are present and are a nuisance more than anything. Psychologically, though, it’s been a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride as I go from PSA test to PSA test, and failed treatment option to failed treatment option. We’re closing in on 14 years since diagnosis, and it does get tiring.

One of my regular blog readers and my urologist both suggested that, at this point, I look at my prostate cancer more as a chronic illness than as a life-threatening disease. I’m still trying to embrace that perspective and, even if I do, the worry will never go away.

There you have it. The latest and greatest in this adventure of living with prostate cancer. Follow along if you want to see my monthly updates, and we’ll probably know more right around the holidays.

Be well!

Header image: Lake Michigan coastline from the John Hancock Center, Chicago, Illinois

Salvage Therapy for Prostate Cancer: AUA/ASTRO/SUO Guideline (2024)

A moderator on the HealthUnlocked website shared a link to the new 2024 American Urological Association guidelines for salvage therapy for recurrent prostate cancer:

https://www.auanet.org/guidelines-and-quality/guidelines/salvage-therapy-for-prostate-cancer

These are the generally agreed-upon guidelines that practitioners should follow when a patient has recurrent prostate cancer after initial treatment.

Month 159 – Meeting with Urologist

Today’s meeting with the urologist went about as I expected it would. In a nutshell, we agreed to punt for another three months and see where we’re at with a new PSA test at that time.

We talked about the clean PSMA PET scan results and the fact that we remain in this inconclusive gray area right now that doesn’t bode well for making decisions about the next steps. He did suggest that I could start ADT now if I wanted to do so, and he debated about whether it would be appropriate to start ADT with abiraterone. He leaned toward just starting without abiraterone if ADT is what I wanted to do, but I also sensed that he felt no need to rush into this given the negative scan results.

One interesting comment that he made (and I wish I had taken better notes) was along the lines of ADT alone has not been shown to extend life expectancy. The unsaid implication was, “Why go through the side effects of ADT now if studies show there’s no discernable difference in the outcome?” That’s something that I need to dig into a little more.

One interesting thing that’s popped up in my conversations with others in prostate cancer forums or here is testosterone level testing. In all my years of being treated, my testosterone level has never been tested, so we talked about that. It’s something that we can do just prior to starting ADT to establish a baseline reference point.

I mentioned my email conversation with the radiation oncologist, and talked about the possibility of zapping a lesion should it show up on a PSMA PET scan in the future. The urologist seemed a bit indifferent to that approach (probably an occupational hazard).

During the conversation, I mentioned that my PSA doubling time using the last four values was at just over six months, and he commented that that was “not insignificant.”

We did discuss whether there was value in knowing where the cancer was located at this point, or to just know that the cancer is somewhere and proceed with systemic treatment without knowing its location. My concern is that starting ADT would make finding the location next to impossible on a PSMA PET scan if my PSA is knocked down to near zero.

He kept using the term “metastatic” throughout the conversation which, I suppose, is technically correct. If the cancer is someplace other than where it started, it’s metastatic. But I’ve also learned that there is a lot of gray area in the prostate cancer world when it comes to classifying how and what your cancer is.

I also asked for a consult with a medical oncologist to get his/her insights on where I’m at and what should be done next and he was going to put that request in for the consult.

I have a three-month follow-up appointment and PSA test scheduled for 14 May 2024, so the saga continues.


About an hour after I returned home from my appointment, the PCRI posted this very timely video on micro-metastatic prostate cancer.

I’ll probably publish this video as a stand-alone post so it’s easier to find.

Header Image: La Jolla Shoreline, La Jolla, California

Day 4,776 – PSA Results (Not Good)

Well, 💩.

The suspense of not knowing what my PSA was up to was killing me, so I went a couple of days earlier than I planned to have my PSA test. I was expecting it to go up a bit, but I wasn’t expecting it to leap a tall building in a single bound.

My PSA jumped from 0.21 ng/mL on 31 October to 0.33 ng/mL on 6 December, a 57% increase in five weeks. Ugh. Using the four PSA values from this year and Memorial Sloan Kettering PSA Doubling Time calculator, my PSADT is 6.7 months.

I’d say it’s safe to conclude that the salvage radiation therapy missed the mark, but I’ll confirm that with an in-person appointment with the urologist on Thursday, 14 December and with the radiation oncologist via email.

I’m writing this late on Thursday night, about 20 minutes after seeing the results online, so I’m still shocked and processing it all. I’ll wrap this post up in the morning…

Back at the keyboard Friday morning after a somewhat fitful night of sleep…

Needless to say, this was (and still is) a bit of a gut-punch for me to see the PSA increase so rapidly. It’s definitely got me concerned and wondering where the cancer is if the radiation didn’t even make a dent in it.

So what’s next? I don’t know. I suspect these would be a few possibilities:

First, maybe let the PSA continue to rise a little more until it’s over 0.5 ng/mL but less than 1.0 ng/mL to give a PSMA PET scan a better chance of picking up where the cancer is located. At 1.0 ng/mL, PSMA PET scans can find the cancer about 90% of the time.

If there are only a couple of localized lesions, we may be able to radiate them.

Second, I’m sure androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) is definitely on the horizon, whether we do a scan and radiation or not. My only question would be the timing of the ADT. If it’s given before a scan, would that make it more difficult for the scan to pick up the lesions? I don’t know.

Last, Dr. Mark Scholz of the Prostate Cancer Research Institute, recently posted a video where he talked about a shift in how they approach treating advanced prostate cancer. (I’ll post the video in a separate post.)

Traditionally, treatments were offered sequentially. You’d start with hormone therapy, and when the cancer became resistant, you shifted to a different type of hormone therapy. When that failed, you would move into chemotherapy, a PARP inhibitor (immunotherapy), injectable radiation, and finally clinical trials.

There is research showing that combination therapies may be more effective in staving off the cancer. Instead of just starting out with ADT, it may make sense to combine ADT with radiation or ADT with chemotherapy right out the gate. Yes, there may be increased immediate side effects from the dual treatment, but early studies are showing higher cure rates and longer survival. Additionally, if the combined treatments are successful, this may lead to a better long-term quality of life because you may be able to be taken off ADT.

My appointment with the urologist is on Thursday, 14 December, and you bet I’ll have a ton of questions ready. One of them will be about getting a full-blown medical oncologist who specializes in prostate cancer involved at this point.

In the meantime, I’m going to have to start learning the language of advanced prostate cancer. There are so many different drugs and treatments with weird names that don’t really indicate what they do or how they’re used that it’s tough to keep them straight. Perhaps a spreadsheet may be in order…

I am trying to look for the silver lining in the cloud. I guess that would be that my PSA is still quite low. But the dark part of the cloud is the fact that I’m probably entering the phase where the treatments and their side effects will eventually be worse than the disease when it comes to daily quality of life. I tolerated the six-month dose of Eligard in 2022 pretty well, but it wasn’t without side effects. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Oh. And I’m open to any and all insights from those who have traveled this path ahead of me.

Well, time to get out of the house and try to put this out of my mind for a brief period. (Translation: Escapism.)

Rising PSA After Prostatectomy – PCRI Video

Here is another informative video from the Prostate Cancer Research Institute and Dr. Scholz. It hit too close to home for me, as it describes the dilemma I faced in deciding when to initiate salvage radiation therapy.

Perhaps the key point that Dr. Scholz makes (at 6:08 in the video) is that there’s “a huge advantage of knowing where the cancer is and allowing the radiation therapist to target that spot” as it relates to a newer approach of letting the PSA rise so that modern imaging can determine the location(s).

Later in the video at the 9:40 mark, he goes on to say:

It’s quite tempting in many of the cases that I see to allow the PSA to go a little bit higher knowing that that 0.5 threshold [used by radiation therapists] was set at a time when we didn’t have scans and we didn’t know where the cancer was. There’s such an advantage of knowing where the cancer is and allowing the radiation therapist to target the disease that I tend to liberalize a little bit and allow the PSAs to rise above 0.5 if necessary.

In other words, because of the value in knowing the location of the cancer that can lead to curative outcomes if properly targeted by the radiation therapist, it may be worth allowing the PSA to rise to the point where it can be detected on a scan.

I toyed with the idea of getting a second PSMA PET scan when my PSA hit 0.33 and 0.36, but because it was rising rapidly and because I knew it could take two to four months to get another PSMA PET scan scheduled, I opted to act and go ahead with the salvage radiation therapy. I do have to question if it may have been wise to do the second scan so the RO knew exactly where to aim because, with my PSA rising again, we may have missed our mark.

Will I dwell on that? Nope. I made the best decision I could with the information available at the time.

The bottom line is that we all have to assess our own risk levels and be comfortable with our decisions.