Getting in the right mindset for treatment options

My radiotherapy story

Climbing the Cancer Mountain

Picking the right treatment

Prostate cancer is one of the most common cancers among men in the United States. As a result, there has been a lot of research into prostate cancer treatments.

When your doctor tells you you’ve contracted this malicious disease and you’ve picked yourself off the floor, there are many therapies for you to consider. At the risk of telling readers what they already know, among the options are prostatectomy, where the prostate is removed; hormone therapy, which depletes testosterone on which the cancer thrives; and radiotherapy, which fires beams of energy at the cancer cells. There are other options such as cryotherapy as well.

How I selected a treatment

When I was diagnosed, I remember a nurse telling me that ultimately when I had all the facts, I’d have to decide between a combination of hormone and radiotherapy or having my prostate removed. I remember being bemused by this responsibility. Not being a doctor, how would I know what the best treatment would be? It was such a huge decision that was about to be taken by someone intrinsically involved, but without any of the insight required.

Read on

Trying to Dodge (But Also Deal With) Health Issues and Aging

Thirty years ago (can it really be that long?) I was working at ABC News and was a frequent visitor to Sarajevo during the Bosnian conflict. You may recall all the journalists stayed at the much-bombed Holiday Inn that had been built for the 1984 Winter Olympics. The Serb forces were ranged above in the mountains that surround the city. Outside the hotel was Sniper Alley. You had to drive at top speed to gain access to the underground car park before a sniper decided you might be an interesting target. It was an adrenalin rush, but not one I’m keen to repeat.

Now at the age of 68, I have a new Sniper Alley where bullets are traded for prostate cancer, heart attack, stroke, and shingles, just to name a few. Prostate cancer caught me, but so far I’ve managed to dodge the other bullets. Other friends and colleagues also cruising (or stumbling) down this new alley have not always been as lucky.

Read on…

A friend phones with bad news

I guess it had to happen sooner or later. An old friend got in touch to tell me he has prostate cancer. A biopsy confirmed he is now part of our unlovely club.

In some ways I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I’ve never made a secret of having contracted PC. I’ve blogged about it pretty much from day one, so it’s hardly surprising that a friend would seek me out. For all that, it was horrible news and brought me up short thinking about the day I was diagnosed. But it felt good to comfort someone else and to pass on what knowledge I have on this tricky subject.

It just seems unfair

I met Les through work nearly forty years ago and we’ve been friends ever since. He recently had to undergo a heart bypass, which restored him to rude health after several years of feeling quite frail. It just seems incredibly unfair that on top of that major operation, prostate cancer has now come calling. Not that there’s anything fair about cancer.

Les had been under the ‘watch and wait’ regime and then more recently ‘active surveillance.’ The medics confirmed the cancer has not spread outside his prostate, which is good news. His combined Gleason is 7 and his PSA under 5. I tried to reassure him that his cancer should be eminently treatable.

READ ON

Calling time

It’s annoying when they don’t call on time. Yesterday, at 4pm, I was expecting my six monthly check up call from the oncology department at Guys. A week ago, my blood had been drawn at the Cancer Centre to check my PSA level. Having been off any form of treatment for 18 months, was my PSA set to rise?

Following three years of hormone therapy and two months of radiotherapy my PSA had stood for more than a year at a highly acceptable 0.02. My prostate cancer was barely detectable. At 3.55 I was in a mildly anxious state waiting to find out my fate. By 4.40 no one had called so I took the dog out for a stroll to alleviate the stress.

Walking up the road, the phone goes, and I duck into a side road pulling Bucket after me to find out the latest instalment of Jim’s cancer capers. In short, the news is good. My PSA has increased, a small amount, and now stands at 0.23. The lady from the Cancer Centre described this figure as ‘magnificent’ which rather surprised me but hey, I now have magnificent cancer or rather lack of cancer. At diagnosis my PSA was 5.03.

This time they also measured my testosterone level which is not something I’d had done before. The hormone therapy reduces testosterone in men to something like zero which as you can imagine produces some irritating side effects. (hot flushes and loss of libido etc.) Testosterone is like catnip to cancer, hence the need to irradicate it for a while.

My testosterone level is now a plucky 18.6 which meant absolutely nothing to me until I learnt that in men the range is generally somewhere between 9 and 30. Of course I’ve no idea what my level was prior to my treatment but it seems to be in a relatively good place.

The brutal reality is that my PSA level will probably continue to rise, but it’s impossible to say how far and how fast. Once it hits 2.0 some of the dreary treatments may have to recommence but now, I have another six months until my next call and I’ll be putting cancer to the back of my mind. It’s something I’ve become rather good at. But next time Cancer Care at Guy’s, can you please respect the calling time.

Keeping cancer in its place

It was several years ago now, but I remember an older work colleague telling me he had just been to a close friend’s funeral. I commiserated and he said: “Jim, these days it’s like shucking peas.” He was in his seventies then, and friends were starting to fall away. I’m 67 in a couple of weeks, as of my writing this, and it looks like I’m now on the same trajectory.

A farewell to a friend with prostate cancer

Last Sunday, as of this writing, I attended a farewell and celebration of the life led by my old friend Geoff. He died a couple of weeks earlier at his home in Switzerland, and this was a chance for his UK friends to bid him bon voyage.

Geoff contracted prostate cancer some years back and was treated using High-intensity focused ultrasound (HIFU). This form of treatment uses ultrasound energy to destroy cancer cells in the prostate.

He suggested I investigate HIFU when I, too, was diagnosed with prostate cancer. My doctor deemed it would not work for me, but to all intents it appeared to have worked for Geoff. Sadly, he died very quickly from a brain tumor, but there is some thought that the cancer may have been linked to his prostate cancer. Read on…

Do You Talk to Your Cancer?

I was asked an unexpected question the other day: “Do you talk to your cancer?”

Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to say, and unclear what sort of answer they were seeking. Given how many questions I get about my cancer, this was refreshingly new, but more of that in a moment.

A difficult guest

The simple answer is no, I don’t talk to the intruder in my prostate, but I do come close. My cancer is certainly a character who right from the get-go I called my Unwelcome Guest. It became the name of my original cancer blog.

Inevitably I mined the term for all its metaphorical worth. So, there was always talk in the blog about the ‘guest’ checking out, and once I was in remission, there was the inevitable fear of him checking back in. At one point I remember talking about cancer as someone who overstays his welcome, leaves the bath taps running, floods your apartment, and brings the ceiling down. I became a bellboy to a nightmare lodger. Read on…

Preen health update

I guess you may occasionally wonder while grooming the dog/mowing the lawn/teasing nits out of your child’s head as to how Jim is doing with all that prostate cancer nonsense. (Before I go on, I should say that if it never passes your mind, I’m fine with that too)

It’s been a year since I came off any treatment and while irritating side effects continue all appears to be going fine as when I last checked I’m not dead yet.

I had a consultation on Wednesday (4.7.21) and was told my PSA was extremely low (0.02) which means that for almost two years I’ve had no evidence of disease. For now at least my Unwelcome Guest has scrammed.

I get my next test and appointment in 6 months. That’s all, you can go back to mashing turnips.

Jim Preen