Month 116 – Cancer Treatment Decisions

One of my regular readers of this blog and I have amazingly similar stories when it comes to our diagnosis and treatment. We were both diagnosed around the same age, our PSA levels were quite close to each other, and we both opted for surgery. Both of us had undetectable PSAs well after the surgery—until we didn’t. His PSA became detectable around the three year point, and mine became detectable at a few months shy of five years.

He opted to begin salvage radiation therapy (SRT) along with androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) when his PSA hit 0.08 ng/ml. And, if you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time, you already know that I’ve been punting that decision after nearly every PSA test, with my PSA bouncing around in the 0.14-0.16 ng/ml range without seeking SRT or ADT yet.

Who made the right decision?

Both of us.

When cancer is initially introduced into your vocabulary—and even long after—you’ll be faced with a myriad of decisions to make. Is treatment warranted, or can I go on active surveillance? If treatment is needed, do I opt for surgery, radiation, or one of the newer methods available? Which doctor has the most experience? Which hospital has the right equipment? The list goes on and on.

Many of those same questions are applicable in the case of recurrence, too.

When it comes time to make some of those decisions, remember first and foremost that it’s your body, your family, and your circumstances. You—and not anyone else—have the final say.

Do your research using reliable, trusted sources and don’t be afraid to ask the doctor questions or call them out on something you’re not comfortable with. Seek multiple opinions from the doctors that could provide the different treatment options to you (keeping in mind, of course, that some may push their own specialty over others).

Talk to other patients or read their silly blogs to see what their experience has been, knowing that each individual cancer case is unique and will not apply directly to your own situation.

Don’t let the words “prostate cancer” scare you into acting immediately. Unless your Gleason score is an 8 or 9, you do have a bit of time to do this research and consulting with different specialists. I made my decision to have surgery rather quickly and never consulted with a radiation oncologist to see if that would be a viable first treatment option for me. Do I regret that? No. But, with a Gleason 6, I should have slowed things down and have had the meeting anyway.

One of the options that is often overlooked is to do nothing. Okay, it’s not exactly doing nothing—you’ll definitely want to be on active surveillance—but you don’t have to leap right into a treatment option if your cancer is  low grade / not aggressive. My sense is that more and more doctors are beginning to embrace that approach to avoid over-treatment.

That brings me to my final point. Once you make a decision, don’t look back. Embrace it and move forward. If you’ve done your homework correctly, you’ll know in advance what the consequences of that decision may be, and you’ll be more accepting of them if and when they do come.

If my PSA continues to slowly increase and, at some point my body scan lights up like a Christmas tree because I haven’t started SRT, I’ll probably curse like the sailor I once was and say, “I knew this was a possibility. What’s next?” But I’ll also know that I will have had six or seven or more years of high quality of life without any short or long-term side effects from SRT and/or ADT, and that is of great importance to me. As much science as there is in the treatment of prostate cancer, in the end, it’s an educated crap shoot.

Who made the correct decision?

Both of us. One of us. Neither of us.

Time will tell.

Stay Well! Wear A Mask! Wash Your Hands! Stay Home!

Article on PSA and Aggressiveness of Prostate Cancer

An excellent article about PSA and being able to determine the aggressiveness of prostate cancer.

https://www.statnews.com/2017/05/04/prostate-cancer-research-psa/

Month 75 – Distracted from Cancer

It’s good to be distracted. I’ve barely thought about prostate cancer since the holidays, and that’s been fantastic. What’s not fantastic is the reason for the distraction. One word: Trump.

I’ll not turn this into a political blog, but suffice it to say, I’m not a fan. But, seeing as the repeal of the Affordable Care Act (ACA) is on the top of the new administration’s “To-do” list, some passing thoughts on the topic here are not out of line.

When I decided to leave my job five years ago and move from Indiana to San Diego (about 15 months after my surgery), my health insurance was intact through COBRA coverage. (For those readers outside the U.S., the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act (COBRA) of 1985 gave employees who left their company the right to continue their health insurance coverage through their former employer’s health plan for up to 18 months after leaving.)

My COBRA coverage ended in September 2013, just a few months before the ACA’s requirement to cover individuals with preexisting conditions kicked in on 1 January 2014. I tried to purchase insurance on my own long before the September expiration of my coverage, but was told that I was uninsurable because of my prostate cancer diagnosis or, if they would cover me, the monthly premiums would have been north of $2,500 USD per month.

I’m a veteran of the U.S. Navy, so in May or June of 2013, I turned to the Veterans Administration (VA) to see if I would be eligible for care.

For those who don’t know, there is a tiered eligibility system in place to determine your eligibility and your level of care with the VA. Not all veterans will be eligible for care. Fortunately (?) for me, I served in-theater in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm during the first Gulf War. That made me eligible for coverage under the VA, and it’s where I’ve been getting my cancer care ever since.

We’ve already heard discussions of lifetime caps on coverage being reimposed; debates over preexisting conditions; and a host of other changes that scare the crap out of most people, cancer patients in particular. The administration has already imposed an across-the-board federal government hiring freeze at a time when the VA healthcare system is struggling to provide quality care to all the veterans from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, as well as to veterans like me. It’s simply bonkers (that’s a technical term).

So I’ll climb down off my soapbox now and thank the new administration for pushing the notion of cancer recurrence pretty much completely out of my mind for the last two months. There are bigger things for me to deal with than piddly little ol’ cancer.

Month 61 – Letter to the Newly Diagnosed

A few weeks ago, one of my blog’s readers, a three-time cancer survivor, emailed me with a suggestion for a post topic: An open letter to the newly diagnosed, offering insights and support based on my own experience. I found the idea intriguing, so here goes…


Dear Newly Diagnosed Cancer Patient,

“You have cancer.” Three little words that will change the lives of you and your family forever. It’s terrifying. It’s bewildering. It’s overwhelming. It sucks.

Oregon Sunset 2Cry a little. Cry a lot. But strive to get through the initial shock and emotional reaction as quickly as you can. You’ve got work to do.

Don’t bother trying to answer the question, “Why?” You’ll spend too much energy to never get the answer. You’ll need to focus that energy on what’s ahead.

Don’t be ashamed that you have cancer. Have open and honest conversations about it with those around you; don’t bottle it up. Find a tidbit of humor in the situation and inject it into the conversation. When you do, people will feel more comfortable around you. Recognize, however, that some people will find being around cancer too difficult and will withdraw. Let them go, for their sake and yours. Most will return once they’ve had time to process what’s happening.

Relationships will be put to the test and may change. Remember that this isn’t all about you. It’s about those closest to you, too, and sometimes it can be more than they can bear. You’ll have to be the strong one for them. Don’t be surprised when some of your most casual acquaintances become your biggest supporters. Embrace them.

Become your own advocate. Research, research, and research some more. You may have the best medical team in the world, but question them. While they’re highly trained medical professionals, they’re still human. They may have their own self-interests in mind. If you ask a radiation oncologist what the best treatment option will be, he or she will likely say radiation. If you ask a surgeon, the answer will likely be surgery. You have to be comfortable with what’s right for you, knowing all the potential risks, side effects, and complications.

Seek out other patients who have had your cancer, whether a friend, a family member, or in a support group (or even through a blog). They can be the greatest resource available to you. They can tell you their first-hand experience and how the cancer and the treatment impacts their daily life. Recognize that each case is unique, so take their input with a grain of salt and realize you may not have the same result.

You can research and consult with your medical team until the cows come home, but at some point you’re going to have to make a decision. You. It’s your body and your life. You have to be comfortable that your research was thorough, and that you’ll make the best decision possible with the information at hand at that point in time. Then place your trust in your medical team to do the best they can.

You will be stressed. You’ll have “cancer” on the mind 24/7. Figure out ways to distract yourself from the cancer thoughts even for a few hours. Go to a movie, take a drive through the country, take a hike—whatever works for you. The stress can wear you down physically. Get plenty of rest after those sleepless nights; watch your nutrition. You’ve got to be as healthy as you can going into the challenges ahead.

All of this is far easier said than done. I know. Friends and family will offer assistance; take them up on their offers. They’re not there to pity you; they’re there to offer genuine help and support. Don’t let pride get in the way.

While we all hope for the best possible outcome, the harsh reality is that not everyone survives cancer. Make sure your affairs are in order, especially advanced medical directives, and that your family understands  and will honor your desires.

Being told you have cancer is not the end; it’s the beginning of a process.

In my case, I was diagnosed with Stage IIb prostate cancer, and the diagnosis was the beginning of my process to determine what treatment option was best for me. But even if you’re diagnosed with late Stage IV cancer and are considered to be terminal, it’s still the beginning of the process to figure out the best options for your remaining time.

Lastly, even if your cancer allows for successful treatment, cancer will always be in your thoughts long after the treatment ends. I’m five years out from my diagnosis and treatment, and a little “recurrence cloud” follows me around every day, as I wonder whether or not the cancer will return. Once you introduce cancer into your vocabulary, it’s there for good, whether the actual disease is there or not.

I wish you and your family all the best as you begin your own journey.

Dan