In 1999, a friend who had been diagnosed with prostate cancer strongly urged me to go for a PSA blood test. It took some prodding from my wife, but I finally made an appointment with our family doctor. After much discussion with the doctor — he thought I was too young (I was 49 at the time) and explained that the Ontario Health Insurance Plan (OHIP) wouldn’t cover the cost — I finally had the test. I’d now like to thank our friend for saving my life.
Onslaught of tests and treatments
My PSA was 7, elevated for a man my age. My doctor referred me to a urologist, who did a digital rectal exam. Finding a lump, the urologist scheduled me for a biopsy on December 21. There was a large suspicious nodule in the left lobe of the prostate gland; core samples were sent to the lab. Results confirmed that I had prostate cancer. Merry Christmas!
In January 2000, my wife and I met with the urologist again. My Gleason score was 7, same as my PSA. The tumour seemed relatively small but aggressive. We discussed the options: wait and see how things progressed; bombard the tumour with radiation; remove the prostate surgically. The urologist explained that waiting could be risky. He also advised that if we chose radiation, I wouldn’t be able to have the radical prostatectomy later. Although my situation seemed about as clear as mud to us at that point, we felt we needed to make a decision asap and decided to go with radical prostatectomy.
My operation was scheduled for February 15 — I refused to have it done the day before, as it just didn’t feel right removing my manly parts on Valentines Day. The tumour had spread outside the prostate, upgrading it to stage T3A. It was recommended that I start a radiation program as soon as possible: this would mean 36 treatments, once a day, five days a week for seven weeks plus a day. As there were no openings to have the radiation in Ontario until late November of that year, I agreed to travel to the Roswell Park Cancer Center in Buffalo, New York, in June. Spending from Monday to Friday in a motel room was a bit lonely, but it helped that there were a number of other Canadians there having treatment. Once a week we would get together over pizza to chat, share experiences and encourage each other. We were treated amazingly well, and OHIP paid all the expenses.
Side effects
When the catheter was first removed after my prostatectomy, problems with bladder retention (inability to urinate) began that continued off and on for the next year. This meant many trips to the emergency department to have another catheter inserted for drainage. Eventually, I learned how to self-catheterize and also discovered that there are many different qualities of catheter. Some are easier to insert and more effective. If this issue arises for you, I suggest you shop wisely for the best quality catheter you can afford.
Several treatments to help improve my urinary incontinence were, unfortunately, unsuccessful. Further, radiation caused some damage to the lower bowel and rectal sphincter. These problems have interfered with my ability to work and added to the impact of cancer on my life and those around me. My loss of income is a huge strain. In addition, my frequent bouts of exhaustion and trips to the washroom can make travel, sports and social activities embarrassing and frustrating. All of this greatly affects my temperament and interactions with family and friends. It’s true that prostate cancer doesn’t affect the survivor alone!
I was advised that the cancer would probably return and given a life expectancy of five years. It’s been eight years now, and in fact the cancer returned last year. To slow down its progress, I’ve begun hormone therapy, which comes with its own set of side effects. Please be sure to discuss these with your doctor, especially if you have other medical conditions such as diabetes.
On the bright side
Since discovering a prostate discussion group at the Hope Spring Cancer Support Centre in Waterloo, Ontario, I’ve been attending meetings for several years and have learned a tremendous amount. The sharing of experiences with others and genuine feeling that you’re not alone in this battle is invaluable. I’m thankful for organizations like Hope Spring that run therapy programs to help survivors as well as their families and friends better understand how to cope with this disease.
Despite the difficulties, I decided from the beginning to try to live the balance of my life to the fullest. I continue to play golf as often as I can and even reduced my handicap from 18 to 15 this year. Not too bad for an old guy in diapers! In June 2008, I rode in the Kitchener Motorcycle Ride for Dad and raised $2,600 for prostate cancer research for the Grand River Regional Cancer Centre. It was a pretty big day for me, as I also received a Certificate of Appreciation from the Government of Canada for my efforts. During the ride, I crashed my motorcycle and went airborne, luckily ending up with only some road rash and pulled muscles. This small upset only reinforced my will to live. I’ll take my chances again next year — I’ve been asked to be the honourary captain of the 2009 ride.
Avoid surprise attacks
It’s because things don’t always go well that I wanted to create something special to raise men’s awareness about early detection. So I designed a medallion (see below). Prostate cancer is like the thistle: it’s a thorny issue many people would like to avoid, and it spreads once it bursts outside the capsule. Perhaps a little known fact is that the thistle served as an early warning device when King Haakon of Norway was hoping to conquer the Scottish Clansmen. In order to move more stealthily under the cover of darkness, the Norsemen removed their footwear. As they drew near, one of the men stepped on the thorns and screamed out in pain, alerting the Scots to the impending attack. The thistle was later adopted as the emblem of Scotland.
My advice to all men is to have a PSA test to help detect prostate cancer early. Should you be diagnosed with cancer, remember that every day is a new day — live it to the fullest!
