That didn’t turn out as planned…

Drink of choice: “I’ll have the usual” I said to my virtual bartender.

Weed of Choice: More on that later.

When I last posted I was convinced we had overcome Advanced Stage III Prostate Cancer. We were wrong. After thirteen months of the cancer being undetectable, treatment ceased end of September 2018. Then the long wait began. In January, 2019, my testosterone started to elevate. And the cancer came back. With a “Strong and furious Anger.”

I proceeded to have every scan know; Bone Scan, PET Scan, MRI with “Endo rectal Coil.” Look it up. If you live your life without one of these you will be more fortunate than I. I’ve had two.

The cancer was angry with me. This time it formed a small tumor but fortunately it was confined to  the pelvic bed. The PET scan  revealed “suspicious activity” on my spine. This resulted in two phone calls from the “Tumor Board” (yes, it is a thing) and an additional scan- a Lumbar MRI. I hate MRI’s. I probably have had more than you have and I hate them. In my youth I dabbled in psychedelics. MRI’s are a bad trip. Thankfully they only last an hour. When I get done its straight to Jimmy’s Woodlawn Tap for a shot and a beer. Or two. Hate MRI’s.

Once we ruled out spread beyond the pelvic bed, treatment was Chemical Castration (lupron three month) Zytiga daily and an eight week course of radiation.  Zytiga is a med that shuts down testosterone from sources other than the testes; adrenal glands and the cancer cells themselves.

A brief discussion of Radiation Oncology. Radiation Oncologists are defensive of their machine. Don’t listen to them. It fucks you up. End of story.

Post radiation things got weird. If you know me, then you know it got really weird. Cause weird is where I live.

I couldn’t function as a homo sapien. Couldn’t find my way around our 1200 sq foot condo. Couldn’t drive. Could barely talk. Couldn’t cook. No function. Lost in an abyss.

Fortunately, I have excellent care. I reached out to my oncology social worker who got me to an Oncology Psychologist who quickly referred me to an Oncology Psychiatrist. The Calvary was called in. Ritalin was the answer. That and vigorous exercise. Which I did. I got ripped. I felt better. I was functional.

Treatment started to work. Cancer declining. Then COVID-19 became a new word. Treatments delayed, but received. Life upended. New behaviors learned.

Why update this now? Well, several reasons. I’ve had a life threatening disease for over three years. In this regard I have a leg up on most of you. You are likely bored, so new content, even in this rough form might be appreciated. Lastly, if you are reading this, you and I are loved. In the immediate, in the abstract, Love is all around. I believe in the power of love. Feel it, it share it. However we can. Be well. Stay Safe. I love you.