Day 5,188 – A Wee Problem

I’ve been debating whether to write this post but figured that I’ve never shied away from sharing the gory details of the total prostate cancer experience. So if you don’t want to read about my latest adventure with incontinence, you can check out the trip report of my trip to Death Valley last week.

In fact, the issue began as a result of my trip to Death Valley.

After four days of standing in the middle of the desert pretty much solo the entire time, I returned home Wednesday evening. Thursday morning, I can off to the clinic for my PSA test (it took 7 minutes and 38 seconds from check-in to walking out the door). But by Thursday afternoon, I was feeling a bit wonky.

By Thursday night, I was down for the count with a full-blown head cold/flu. I was both baffled by how I contracted it, and annoyed that I had. It had been several years since I’ve had a cold or flu.

Unfortunately, one of the symptoms that hit me hard and caused the incontinence issues was a nagging tickle in the back of my throat that had me coughing pretty consistently and, in many cases, pretty intensely. It sucked.

It sucked because coughing is perhaps the greatest trigger for my stress incontinence. The harder I cough, the more I leak.

I wear Depend Shields in my daily life, and I can get by with one or two pads a day. But by the weekend, the coughing and resultant leaking exceeded their capacity. I had one coughing fit that had me fill the pad, overflow, and soak my jeans. Not fun. Through the weekend and into early this week, I was going through multiple pads a day and doing several loads of laundry.

I toyed with the idea of running to the store to get Depend Guards, the pads with more absorbency and capacity, but I didn’t want to risk embarrassing myself in the middle of Aisle 12 at the grocery store. Plus, I was probably as contagious as Typhoid Mary, so that wouldn’t have been a good thing, either.

I was taking some cold/flu medicine that helped reduce the cough—the root cause of my issue—and I just rode out the storm for a few more days. Today, a week after this all kicked in, I’m back to my good ol’ self getting by with the occasional drip and dribble.

The lessons learned for me are to keep the cough medicine on hand to help reduce the root cause, and to keep a supply of Depend Guards on hand to do a better job of controlling the mess.

Now you know why I may have been hesitant to share this. But, hey, it’s for educational purposes, right?


On a related note, I was successful in getting my appointment to review my PSA results moved to an earlier date. It’s now 18 February 2025 (four weeks is better than four months). I’m okay with that.


Unless you’ve been living under a rock the last two weeks, you already know that southern California has been ablaze with wildfires. Luckily, up until this point, they have stayed clear of San Diego for the most part. Until today.

This little gem popped up about 6 miles / 10 km from my house this afternoon:

View of the Border Fire on Otay Mountain taken from the vacant lot down the street from my house.

It’s grown to about 600 acres / 240 hectares in about six hours, and we’re expecting high Santa Ana winds this evening. It’s in a very mountainous area, and air crews have been working the scene all afternoon. Luckily, it’s adjacent to a large reservoir, so there’s plenty of water for the helicopters to access. We also have rain in the forecast for the weekend for the first time in months (San Diego has had the driest start to the wet season since they began keeping records in 1850. We’ve had only 0.14 inch / 3 mm of rain since 1 July 2024.)

Of course, I’m concerned and I’ve made preparations to leave if need be. But given the location, the fact that the reservoir is between me and the fire, and the prevailing winds are keeping the smoke south of me, I’m hopeful that my neighborhood will be unaffected.

I’ll keep everyone updated over the next day or two.

Be well.

Header image: Courtyard at The Ranch at Death Valley National Park, California

Day 5,183 – PSA Results

I jumped the gun a couple of days and went for my PSA lab work Thursday morning on 16 January. (The three month date since the last PSA test would have been 22 January.)

As a refresher, my PSA in October was 0.69 ng/mL; it’s now 0.94 ng/mL.

I’m going to have to get a little aggressive with the medical team in terms of appointment scheduling. In October, we agreed to retest in three months and go over the results, but the schedulers didn’t have any open appointments until May 2025. Needless to say, that’s too far out so I’ll have to cajole my way into a canceled appointment or ask for a virtual / telehealth appointment sooner.

With my PSA as high as it is, I suspect that another PSMA PET scan would finally reveal some useful information that we can use to plan treatment options.

Header image: Devil’s Golf Course, Death Valley National Park, California

Day 5,127 – Colonoscopy Results

No one can say I do things half-assed. I got a perfect 9/9 score on the Boston Bowel Preparation Scale. Clean as a whistle! 🙂 (I didn’t even know that there was such a scale.)

Yesterday’s colonoscopy went well, although it was a little different from the last one I had six years ago. The last one, I was knocked out with anesthesia and don’t remember the procedure at all. This one, I had “moderate (conscious) sedation” and was able to have conversations with the team and watch the procedure on a monitor, although my mind was drifting in and out of focus throughout.

Before we started, I had a good conversation with the doctor about my salvage radiation therapy and the possibility of radiation proctitis given the occasional blood in my stools. She was appreciative of the detailed information to help her in doing the procedure. I really stressed that I didn’t want the scope or the inflation of my colon to do more damage than what may already be there.

There were two polyps that were removed during the procedure and will be sent off for pathology. The first was in the transverse colon, and the second in the sigmoid colon, not far from the rectum. (I didn’t think to ask how long it will take for the pathology to come back, but I’m assuming it will be about two weeks.)

The sigmoid polyp was described as, “erythematous and friable.” Erythematous means the mucosa is red and inflamed due to a buildup of blood in dilated capillaries; friable describes how easily the mucosa can be damaged by a biopsy instrument or endoscope.

Because I didn’t read her printed report—with 13 color photos and map of my colon—until I got home, I didn’t get to ask if she thought that could have been caused or aggravated by the radiation therapy being closer to the rectum.

She also found “a few non-bleeding small angioectasias in the rectum, consistent with chronic radiation proctitis,” which are dilated, thin-walled blood vessels (think spider veins) that can occur anywhere in the gastrointestinal (GI) tract. I watched her zap those with “argon plasma coagulation (APC).” She described that as cauterizing the vessels to stop them from possibly bleeding into the GI tract.

Pending the outcome of the pathology on the polyps, she recommended a follow-up colonoscopy in three years. Yippee!

Time will tell if the sigmoid colon polyp removal and APC did the trick to stop the blood in my stools (hopefully, there are no new side effects from the APC). I guess time will tell on both counts.

Next up: Get through the holidays and PSA test sometime in late January.

Happy Thanksgiving! (I’ll get a 0/9 score after Thanksgiving dinner. 🤣)

Header Image: San Diego, California skyline at dusk.

Day 5,118 – Urologist Visit

I met with the urologist this afternoon to go over my most recent PSA test results and the plan going forward. In a nutshell, we agreed to remain in limbo for another three months and retest the PSA in January and consider a PSMA PET scan if warranted at that point. (She was a bit skeptical that the PSMA PET scan would be conclusive even at my current PSA of 0.69 ng/mL.)

The urologist thought it was a little premature to start talking about androgen deprivation therapy, but recognized that that’s the next likely step down this path. I mentioned that, when I met with the urologist and medical oncologist in February, one suggested ADT at metastases and the other suggested starting at a PSA of 2.0 ng/mL. She said she could understand both positions.

Bottom line is that I continue to be in this sort of “no man’s land” of prostate cancer. We know it’s there; we just don’t know where, and we don’t want to pull the trigger on ADT prematurely. So more waiting.

One other thing that we discussed was radiation proctitis.

I’ve been sitting on this little tidbit for a while now, but I’ve been noticing blood in my stools. It initially appeared as spots a little smaller than a dime coin (~ 1 cm) but, over time, it has subsided to a small streak or a hint of blood. You know me: I had to create a spreadsheet to track it, and it’s been occurring in about ten percent of my bowel movements. That makes me feel better that it isn’t happening each and every time—that might indicate a larger problem if it were happening every time.

Fortunately, I haven’t had the diarrhea or mucus discharge that can come with more severe cases of radiation proctitis.

I mentioned this to my primary care physician during my appointment on 4 November, too. Both he and the urologist recommended a colonoscopy to check out what’s really going on. That joyful experience is scheduled for Friday, 22 November. Yippee!

I did come across this continuing education paper that gives a good overview if you’re really interested in learning more:

Radiation Proctitis

So the journey continues. Stay tuned for the next installment.

Header image: San Diego skyline and Mission Bay from Kate Sessions Memorial Park

Day 5,097 – PSA Results

The trend formula on my Excel spreadsheet predicted that my PSA would come in at 0.69 ng/mL, and my PSA came in at exactly 0.69 ng/mL. Not too shabby.

To be honest, that’s a little better than I expected it to be, which I’m not complaining about. At least it hasn’t taken off like a Halloween bat out of Hell.

The one question that we’ll have to answer at the appointment with the urologist on 14 November is whether that level is high enough to warrant another PSMA PET scan to see if we can detect any hotspots that may be amenable to radiation. At my current PSA level, there’s about a 70% chance of detecting anything, but if we wait until the PSA is closer to 1.0 ng/mL, there’s a 90% chance of detection. Maybe we wait another three months and go from there? Or, maybe we go ahead with the scan now and I have cool images to include with my Christmas cards.

I’m guessing that that was a small enough increase—keeping my PSA at a low level—that we won’t have to worry about starting androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) quite yet. Of course, I could be wrong.

When I use my last five PSA tests over the last year to calculate PSA doubling time, the PSADT is 7.7 months.

Stay tuned.

PSA Chart since salvage radiation therapy
PSA Chart since diagnosis

Header image: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California

Day 5,095 – Let the Waiting Begin

I went for my PSA test this morning, so now the waiting begins for the results to be posted online. I suspect that I’ll be able to access them late Thursday night or Friday.

I also had about four or five other tubes of blood drawn (I can’t watch 🤢) for my annual physical with my primary care physician on 4 November. While there, I also got my high-dose flu shot for old geezers and the updated COVID vaccine. All of that turned me into veritable pin cushion this morning.

As much flak as the VA Healthcare system receives, I have to admit that I’m always impressed with my local clinic. No appointment was needed for either the lab work or the vaccines, and it took just 17 minutes from the time I checked in until my lab work was completed, and another seven minutes to get the vaccines. I was in and out in 24 minutes. I challenge civilian clinics to match that.

More to come soon.

Month 166 – Expanding My Audience

Between this prostate cancer blog and my travel blog, you’ve probably figured out that I enjoy the process of writing and sharing my experiences. While I’m no Pulitzer-prize winning author, a few people close to me have encouraged me to do something more formal—to “write a book.” I always thanked them for their compliment, and then gently set aside the notion of ever getting something published.

Until June.

Yes, I’ve been sitting on a little secret for almost three months. The editor of Cancer Health magazine came across my little ol’ blog and approached me to write an essay for their Voices column for their Fall 2024 issue of their magazine.

My initial reaction was one of surprise and intrigue and—if I’m being honest—a bit of anxiety. In the initial contact email, there wasn’t a ton of information about expectations, so I went to the website and looked at some of the archived Voices columns to see what might be involved. “Oh. I could do that.”

I went back to the editor and said, “I’m in.”

Prior to this, I had a vague understanding of the publishing process and knew that there would be some discussion about topics, length of the article, and deadlines. It would soon be followed by submitting drafts and digesting feedback. Also included in the exchange was a six-page contract covering usage rights and compensation.

I’m someone who’s better known for my spreadsheets than my writing, so when the editor read the final draft and said, “Wow… this one reads really great….Honestly, there’s very little I’d change in this…” I have to admit my chest puffed out a with a bit of pride.

After the magazine went live this week (hardcopy and online), I can now add “published author” to my résumé.

Is it a book? Nope. But we all start with baby steps, and a 500-word essay is my first step into the publishing world. Is this the beginning of something larger? Who knows. I enjoyed the whole process, and the editor did encourage future submissions. In the meantime, I’ll stick to self-publishing on my little ol’ blogs for now.

You may read the article here:

How to Navigate Conflicting Cancer Treatment Advice

Header Image: August Moonrise over San Diego, California skyline

Day 5,000

You know the nerd in me had to observe this milestone of being 5,000 days into this adventure of living with prostate cancer. 😂

In those 5,000 days, I have:

  • Learned more about prostate cancer and its treatment than I ever thought I would.
  • Had my emotions run from outright fear at diagnosis to elation with each undetectable PSA test after surgery back to fear as my PSA returned.
  • Adapted to my new normal with the side effects from surgery and radiation.
  • Shared my story in ways I never expected.
  • Learned who stepped up to provide support and who couldn’t do so for whatever reason.
  • Formed meaningful connections with fellow patients and caregivers from around the globe, and have been inspired by their stories.

That last point is important to me. Those readers who regularly engage with me, share your stories, and who offer your support have been a bright spot in this entire adventure, and I cannot thank you enough. Sadly, some of the men that I connected with over the years have succumbed to this insidious disease, and I miss our interactions.

Thank you again for putting up with my rantings for 5,000 days. Here’s hoping for 5,000 more.

—Dan

In case you’re wondering, 5,000 days equals:

  • 13 years, 8 months, and 9 days
  • 164 months and 9 days
  • 714 weeks and 2 days
  • 120,000 hours
  • 7,200,000 minutes
  • 432,000,000 seconds

Sleep better tonight knowing that. 🤓😂

Month 161 – Crappy Development

If you’ve been reading this blog from the beginning, you already know that no detail is spared in the telling of this prostate cancer tale. If you haven’t read some of the early, gory details, well, buckle up, Buttercup.

Let’s talk bowels and 💩.

LAST CHANCE. If you don’t want to follow along, check out my travel website HERE or my photography website HERE.


One of the known possible long-term side effects of radiation when it comes to prostate cancer is issues with your rectum and bowels, and those side effects can manifest themselves years after the radiation was completed. (It’s been 19 months since my last zapping session in August 2022.)

Something has changed with my bowels in the last few months, and I’m wondering if this is the beginning of those side effects.

The engineer in me is trying to evaluate different variables to see if these changes could be the result of something else.

As a baseline, I used to have one bowel movement a day in the morning and I was good for the day. Also, I’m a creature of habit, and my diet really hasn’t changed at all, so that’s likely not a contributing factor.

One other thing is the timing of the onset of my symptoms. It’s about the same time that I started my daily walking regimen in earnest in February. I doubt they’re related, but it is noteworthy.

So what’s different? Well:

  • About half the time, I’m now having two to three bowel movements a day. One recent day, there were five over the course of the entire day.
  • My stools have changed from well-formed “logs” to thin, soft “snakes” or “ropes” that tend to fall apart.
  • I find myself having short periods where I’m quite gassy and flatulent without any likely dietary cause (e.g., not eating frijoles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner).

The silver lining in this cloud is that I haven’t had any increases in bowel urgency, so this is quite manageable at the moment. I will admit, though, that there have been a few times when I’ve been on my daily walks when I felt the need to pass gas, and I felt I was on the edge of getting more than I bargained for if I did. Luckily, no accidents yet.

I haven’t done a ton of research on this yet, but a study out of Sweden, Salvage radiotherapy after radical prostatectomy: functional outcomes in the LAPPRO trial after 8-year follow-up, looked at the long-term side effects of salvage radiation therapy. The summary of their conclusions on bowel function:

Fecal leakage was more common after radiotherapy as found in answers to question about ‘accidentally leaked liquid stool’ with 4.5% in Radiotherapy group versus 2.6% in Control group, ‘accidentally leaked liquid stool’ once a week or daily, Odds ratio (95% CI): 1.90 [1.38; 2.62]), ‘mucus from anus’, 6.8% versus 1.5% (4.14 [2.98; 5.76]), ‘leakage of feces in clothes’, 5.6% versus 2.4%, (2.18 [1.18; 4.04]), respectively in Radiotherapy and Control groups (Figures 2, 3A and 3B and Tables S2 and S3 in the Supplement). Bleeding from the anus was more common after salvage radiotherapy, 8.6% versus 1.2% in control (3.21 [2.32; 4.44]) as was flatulence, 25% versus 14% (1.82 [1.40; 2.37]), whereas distress due to bowel symptoms did not differ, 7.8% versus 6% (1.27 [0.90; 1.80]). Defecation urgency was more common in the group given salvage radiotherapy as reported in answers to questions about need ‘to rush to the toilet’, 14% versus 5% (3.22 [2.46; 4.21]), ‘open your bowels again within 1 hour’, 17% versus 9.4% (1.53 [1.18; 1.98]). There was no statistically significant difference in ‘how often do your open your bowels’, 3% versus 2.5% (1.23 [0.92; 1.64]).

Carlsson, S., Bock, D., Lantz, A., Angenete, E., Koss Modig, K., Hugosson, J., Bjartell, A., Steineck, G., Wiklund, P., & Haglind, E. . (2023). Salvage radiotherapy after radical prostatectomy: functional outcomes in the LAPPRO trial after 8-year follow-up. Scandinavian Journal of Urology58, 11–19. https://doi.org/10.2340/sju.v58.7318

Another silver lining: no fecal leakage, mucus, or rectal bleeding so far. Woo-hoo!

Needless to say, this will be part of my conversation with my primary care physician on 9 May and with the urologist on 14 May. I’ll likely rope the radiation oncologist into the conversation, too.

I was reluctant to talk about this earlier because I wasn’t sure if this was a temporary thing or something longer term. This has been pretty persistent for about two months now, so I thought it was time to talk about it. As long as things don’t worsen, I can live with what’s happening right now (although I would prefer that I didn’t have to if I’m being perfectly honest).


I’ll have to admit that I’ve been feeling a general sense of anger and perhaps regret about this whole situation.

The source of those emotions isn’t from the side effects themselves, per se, but rather from this entire process that tends to move patients in the direction of what is considered to be overtreatment.

I may flesh this out in a longer, separate blog post one day, but when I see the likes of Dr. Scholz and others beginning to say, “Hmm. Maybe we should let the PSA rise so we can find out where the cancer is at before we start the treatments that could have life-long side effects adversely impacting the quality of life,” I get annoyed. Annoyed because I’m beginning to agree with that line of thought more and more, instead of the old, “It’s better to attack it while the PSA is low even though we don’t know exactly what’s going on.”

It’s frustrating because, my gut instinct all along was to delay until we knew where the cancer’s location, and I let the more rapid increases in my PSA, my shortening PSA doubling time, and the current “industry” guidance to act sooner rather than later get the better of me.

The frustration will continue as I move into the next chapter. I’ve been looking for studies on the best time to start androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) for someone in my situation and, from what I’ve seen so far, the guidance seems to run the full spectrum of starting early or delaying for years. Throw in the decision of whether it’s just ADT or ADT plus some sort of antiandrogen therapy, too.

I get that there are advances in research and technologies and that things are constantly changing. But at this point, I’d be happy for a clear path forward without adding additional side effects. (But I’m experienced and knowledgeable enough to know that’s just a pipe dream at this point.)

Rant over. Time to invest in some toilet paper company stock.


What’s next?

  • 1 May – PSA test
  • 9 May – Appointment with primary care (routine physical)
  • 14 May – Appointment with urologist.
  • TBD – Another PSMA PET scan if my PSA warrants it OR wait another three months for the next PSA test.

Day 4,880 – Full MO Report

My computer issues have been sorted, so here’s the full scoop behind my meeting with the medical oncologist (MO) on Tuesday.

The meeting started with a nurse practitioner (NP) which threw me for a bit of a loop and initial disappointment. Because this was my initial contact with the oncology team, we spent a bit of time reviewing my history and how we got here. She did say that she would bring the MO into the discussion once we went through the preliminaries.

The nurse had actually done a pretty thorough job of reviewing my file prior to the meeting, and was familiar with the recent bone scan and PSMA PET scan results. Her take on my situation was that we were somewhat in limbo with no signs of metastases anywhere, and that the path forward wasn’t so clear-cut. (That actually led to a brief discussion on how metastases is defined in the world of prostate cancer. She was of the school that it’s not metastatic until it shows up on scans, while I pressed and suggested that, because the prostate is gone and the cancer is somewhere, it must, by traditional definition, be metastatic.)

Once we were through with the initial screening, the nurse brought in the MO and introduced her to me. I did ask if she specialized in prostate cancer and she does not; she’s more of a general oncologist. She did say, however, that she reviewed my case with a genitourinary oncologist at the University of California San Diego (UCSD) the day before our meeting. That was a good to know (but not the same as having a seasoned prostate MO in the room).

At that point, the three of us started going down my checklist of questions.

We talked about whether there was value in delaying the start of any treatment until my PSA rose to a level where a scan would detect the location. In the preliminary screening, the NP seemed to be inclined to start the ADT before another PSMA PET scan, and she was a little surprised that the MO said we should do another scan in six months. The MO said that the scan may reveal lesions that could be spot radiated as a treatment option.

That led to me asking about whether there would be value in whole pelvic radiation and, again, without knowing the cancer’s location neither was a fan of pursuing that at this point. Even if we did know the location, they would defer that decision to the radiation oncologist (RO).

Because my PSA is so low (in relative terms), both seemed to be more inclined to start with just ADT and not a combination therapy of ADT plus antiandrogens. The MO acknowledged that the use of combination therapy could be more effective in controlling the cancer, but cautioned about the increased side effects from doing a combination therapy approach. She also mentioned that using combination therapy is generally reserved for when the cancer is more advanced. (I’m not sure that my research agrees with that thought.)

I believe in her discussion with the UCSD GU oncologist that they said they would probably hold off initiating hormone therapy until my PSA reached 2.0 ng/mL. I’m going to have to do a little research to see if that makes sense.

We talked about intermittent therapy and whether that would be appropriate, and the consensus was that, at my low PSA, I would be a good candidate for intermittent ADT. However, that would depend on my PSA doubling time and how my PSA responds to the ADT.

I did ask if cancer in the lymph nodes would be symptomatic and generally speaking, they said, it’s not. I asked because I had had a weird pressure sensation in my groin last month that was new. (Yes, I’m at that point where I ask myself if every new ache, pain, or sensation is related to the cancer when it pops up.)

They noted going through my record that there was no baseline testosterone test, so we all agreed that that would be helpful to have. The NP put the order in to have that done when I get my PSA tested on 1 May 2024.

The MO expressed concern about my recent cardiac work-ups after my October emergency room visit (nothing of substance was found). She reminded me that hormone therapy does have a small but real risk of increasing cardiac events.

In the last part of the meeting, I did ask if I’ll be seeing the same MO going forward, and the short answer was “indirectly.”

You’ve heard me talk before that one of the drawbacks of getting my care through the VA is that it’s a teaching hospital and that I rarely see the same physician/resident twice. It’s good that I get so many differing opinions, but it prevents me from building a long-term relationship with the doctor as well. Different residents will filter through the oncology department, but the MO I met with will be overseeing all of their cases behind the scenes, so she would be tangentially involved.

I was asking because I likened myself to being an orchestra conductor, coordinating the efforts between the urologists, radiation oncologist, my primary care physician, and now the medical oncologist. I was inquiring if she or anyone else at VA would take the lead on coordinating all of these discussions and treatment considerations. She did mention that they do have a “tumor board” that reviews much more advanced cases to map out coordinated treatment plans, but because I don’t have any substantial tumors in the scans, my case wouldn’t come up for review.

Interesting, though, was the fact that the NP and MO both viewed this meeting as me getting a second opinion instead of a hand-off of my case from the urology department to the oncology department. From their perspective, the urology department still has the lead on my case until I decide to move forward with hormone therapy.

One thing the NP brought up early in the conversation was that any treatment plan would have to be aligned with my goals. If my goal was to prevent metastasis (or delay it), then starting hormone therapy sooner would make more sense. But if my goal was to avoid hormone therapy side effects for as long as possible—recognizing the inherent risks—then it may make sense to delay therapy. To be honest, I’m not sure where on that spectrum I want to land.

We wrapped up the meeting, coming to a consensus that:

  • We’ll conduct a PSA test and get a testosterone baseline on 1 May 2024.
  • Calculate the PSA doubling time including the latest results.
  • Evaluate the results and decide whether to schedule another PSMA PET scan.

While I didn’t keep specific track of the meeting, it lasted somewhere between 30 and 45 minutes, which is quite unusual.


I came out of the meeting in good spirits because it was one of the most productive, collaborative meetings I’ve had in a long time. The conversation flowed quite easily, and I attribute that to the fact that women healthcare professionals seem to be much better prepared and much better at listening to a patient’s concerns than some of their male counterparts. This isn’t the first time that I’ve noticed that. (Don’t forget, it was the thoroughness of my female primary care physician that discovered the cancer via a DRE in the first place.)

To be honest, I’m not sure why I felt compelled to mention these observations based on my personal experiences. I just suspect that some prostate cancer patients may be reluctant to discuss problems with their male bits with female healthcare professionals. You might be surprised by the difference in quality of care that you receive, so don’t rule them out.


I have been more than satisfied with my care from the VA so far but, as my cancer advances, I am beginning to wonder if it makes sense to step outside the VA so I can get a team that is dedicated to my case and one that I can build a long-term relationship with.

At the top of my list would be UCSD followed by Scripps/MD Anderson. But the VA already has such close ties to UCSD, it’s almost like I’m getting care from them already. In fact, the MO I saw is a clinical professor of medicine at UCSD, most of the residents I see in urology are from UCSD, and my VA-provided RO is from UCSD but seeing him required “community care” pre-approval. (Community care is generally only approved if the VA doesn’t have the capacity or capability, so it could be tricky arguing to obtain it.)

So while I’m on Medicare and it would be relatively easy (but more expensive) for me to step away from the VA, I would explore options for getting approval to move into community care at the USCD GU medical oncologist through the VA first.

I’m not keen on changing horses in mid-stream, but it may make sense in the long run. I’ll have to think that through.


And now you know why I didn’t want to try and type this out on my phone on Tuesday. 😂 Thanks for reading this far!

Header image: A rare spring snow in Cuyamaca Rancho State Park, San Diego County, California, 14 March 2024