The bleeding and aching from the prostate biopsy cleared completely in a few days. And with them the sense of dejection that I had felt. I'd look at guys walking confidently down the road and think, "Your prostate is not aching, right now, and you are totally unaware of what may be lurking there." Silly thoughts that vanished as the discomfort left over from the procedure evaporated. By Monday I was feeling pretty normal and had almost forgotten the importance of what had been done. I’d pretty much decided that, with the normal feeling prostate on digital exam, and on ultrasound (except big) and the long time that my PSA had been high but at a fairly constant level, that the elevation must be due to some chronic irritation, or my habit of bicycling, and cancer was not part of the picture. Nagging at my confidence, however, was not knowing the results. I had hoped to hear by Tuesday, but no call from the urologist. Probably no big deal.
My urologist is a young guy who is very sincere and direct. He’s a graduate of an excellent medical school and an excellent urology training program. He did a special fellowship at another excellent school and learned to use the surgical robots that are used for prostate surgery. More important, he comes very highly recommended by my primary care physician, a fellow for whom I have great respect and who has been practicing in the area for years. He seems to know everyone in the medical fields around here, and he was quite direct in his praise for this guy. I like the fact that my urologist is an accomplished user of these surgical robots. Makes him seem “up to date.” I hear only good things about people using these machines.
I think he’s OK personally as well, but I worry a bit about his intensity. I sort of feel that he’s not putting himself in my shoes when he makes recommendations. Instead I think he’s doing what he feels is professionally the right thing to do. Not a bad position to take, but not very personal. And my prostate is personal stuff. To me, anyway. Nevertheless, I feel he’s giving well reasoned advice. I’d sure like to hear from him.
Finally, on Wednesday I retrieved a message from the urologist on my cell after I had left work. He asked me to call back. Unfortunately, his office had already closed and I had to call the next day. When I called on Thursday afternoon there was already another message from the doc again me to return his call. I took the fact that all he wanted was a call back as good news because a few weeks ago, when he had called and left a message about my PSA values, his message had been a request that I make an appointment. He had not asked for a return call. Since he had been really concerned about the high PSA, and had asked for a face to face visit, I kind of figured he did not have urgent news this time or he would not have asked me to simply call back. I was telling myself that everything was normal. No big deal.
I called. I got his receptionist who promised the doc would call back at 4:30. But when 5:00 rolled around and I had not heard from him, I called again. This time I got an answering service and the operator said that the service would not take messages but offered to leave a message for the doc on call. Since the on call doc was a different person I had never met, I declined and planned a call for the next day. Phone tag over biopsy results? Can’t possibly be important. Right.
I finally reached the doc himself the next afternoon, Friday, while riding on the crappy, noisy, shock absorber-challenged bus that my employer provides to take folks back and forth among our offices which are spread miles apart. His message was as jarring as the miserable suspension of the little bus.
"The lab report shows cancer in five of the 12 cores I took," he said, "and one of them looks pretty aggressive. I want you to come in to discuss options." We agreed on 8 AM Tuesday. I continued on the bus trip home. My bubble was burst. This was not good news. I have cancer, and it is not just a little bit in one or two samples. He’s talking a major problem requiring action and soon. Now what? What happens next? What's the right thing to do? Intellectually I expected this. Or, at least, was not terribly surprised. Emotionally, I think I was numb. I knew what had been said. I really did not understand it. I just felt like I was being reoriented. Things would not be the same. The news was not so good.
I was home in about half an hour. My wife was already there. As we enjoyed a bit of wine before dinner, I shared what I'd heard from the urologist with her. I had given her some prostate cancer stuff from the web to read at the time of the biopsy. She had gone over that and looked further. She was ready. What I wanted to tell her was that cancer is not unexpected at my age and the question before us was what treatment might be appropriate. I told her that nothing was going to happen suddenly and I'd continue to be her companion and lover (in some sense) and protector for years. We'd have time to do what was best. What she was telling me was that she wanted us to get all the information we could, quickly, and then take action. She would support anything. And she loves me. She looks forward to being married to me for many years to come. We talked a little about how wives often outlive husbands, and how this was looking real likely. I assured her that I’d take this notice to make certain that we simplified our financial lives so that, in the event I was hit by a bus, or something else, she’d not only be reasonably provided for, but would be able to readily understand our circumstances. She’d been thinking about that even without the cancer diagnosis. Although she leaves all that admin stuff to me, she’d like to know more about it in case some truck gets me while I’m riding my bike to work. Outliving me is a particular problem that she has always had to face. Now its coming a bit more into focus.
We both enjoyed simply having each other available and close. We feel pretty much on the same page about what to do next, and I feel very comfortable that we can talk about the options and decisions that are sure to be part of the next few weeks. So we had a quiet dinner and are looking forward to the weekend. I wonder how well I’ll sleep waiting for Tuesday.
My urologist is a young guy who is very sincere and direct. He’s a graduate of an excellent medical school and an excellent urology training program. He did a special fellowship at another excellent school and learned to use the surgical robots that are used for prostate surgery. More important, he comes very highly recommended by my primary care physician, a fellow for whom I have great respect and who has been practicing in the area for years. He seems to know everyone in the medical fields around here, and he was quite direct in his praise for this guy. I like the fact that my urologist is an accomplished user of these surgical robots. Makes him seem “up to date.” I hear only good things about people using these machines.
I think he’s OK personally as well, but I worry a bit about his intensity. I sort of feel that he’s not putting himself in my shoes when he makes recommendations. Instead I think he’s doing what he feels is professionally the right thing to do. Not a bad position to take, but not very personal. And my prostate is personal stuff. To me, anyway. Nevertheless, I feel he’s giving well reasoned advice. I’d sure like to hear from him.
Finally, on Wednesday I retrieved a message from the urologist on my cell after I had left work. He asked me to call back. Unfortunately, his office had already closed and I had to call the next day. When I called on Thursday afternoon there was already another message from the doc again me to return his call. I took the fact that all he wanted was a call back as good news because a few weeks ago, when he had called and left a message about my PSA values, his message had been a request that I make an appointment. He had not asked for a return call. Since he had been really concerned about the high PSA, and had asked for a face to face visit, I kind of figured he did not have urgent news this time or he would not have asked me to simply call back. I was telling myself that everything was normal. No big deal.
I called. I got his receptionist who promised the doc would call back at 4:30. But when 5:00 rolled around and I had not heard from him, I called again. This time I got an answering service and the operator said that the service would not take messages but offered to leave a message for the doc on call. Since the on call doc was a different person I had never met, I declined and planned a call for the next day. Phone tag over biopsy results? Can’t possibly be important. Right.
I finally reached the doc himself the next afternoon, Friday, while riding on the crappy, noisy, shock absorber-challenged bus that my employer provides to take folks back and forth among our offices which are spread miles apart. His message was as jarring as the miserable suspension of the little bus.
"The lab report shows cancer in five of the 12 cores I took," he said, "and one of them looks pretty aggressive. I want you to come in to discuss options." We agreed on 8 AM Tuesday. I continued on the bus trip home. My bubble was burst. This was not good news. I have cancer, and it is not just a little bit in one or two samples. He’s talking a major problem requiring action and soon. Now what? What happens next? What's the right thing to do? Intellectually I expected this. Or, at least, was not terribly surprised. Emotionally, I think I was numb. I knew what had been said. I really did not understand it. I just felt like I was being reoriented. Things would not be the same. The news was not so good.
I was home in about half an hour. My wife was already there. As we enjoyed a bit of wine before dinner, I shared what I'd heard from the urologist with her. I had given her some prostate cancer stuff from the web to read at the time of the biopsy. She had gone over that and looked further. She was ready. What I wanted to tell her was that cancer is not unexpected at my age and the question before us was what treatment might be appropriate. I told her that nothing was going to happen suddenly and I'd continue to be her companion and lover (in some sense) and protector for years. We'd have time to do what was best. What she was telling me was that she wanted us to get all the information we could, quickly, and then take action. She would support anything. And she loves me. She looks forward to being married to me for many years to come. We talked a little about how wives often outlive husbands, and how this was looking real likely. I assured her that I’d take this notice to make certain that we simplified our financial lives so that, in the event I was hit by a bus, or something else, she’d not only be reasonably provided for, but would be able to readily understand our circumstances. She’d been thinking about that even without the cancer diagnosis. Although she leaves all that admin stuff to me, she’d like to know more about it in case some truck gets me while I’m riding my bike to work. Outliving me is a particular problem that she has always had to face. Now its coming a bit more into focus.
We both enjoyed simply having each other available and close. We feel pretty much on the same page about what to do next, and I feel very comfortable that we can talk about the options and decisions that are sure to be part of the next few weeks. So we had a quiet dinner and are looking forward to the weekend. I wonder how well I’ll sleep waiting for Tuesday.