Quote of the day:
A small group of 101st Airborne troops were surrounded on a hilltop in remote Afghanistan and they were being chopped to pieces. The attending medic was wounded in the side and bleeding badly. He continued to treat three others that were also wounded until he became so weak from blood loss that he couldn't move but he continued to give instructions on how to treat the others. Finally, he said “I am sorry guys, that is all I can do”...and he died. Think about the things you complain about... this man apologized for dying.
This edition will be one that I have done before and was requested again. It is about my ordeal with prostate cancer which is common among men when reaching a certain age.
Enjoy and learn.
A while back I had a routine office visit with my family physician that I will call “Homeboy”. As a matter of course he had a blood sample taken to check my diabetes among other things. I got a call a few days later and it is Homeboy. He said that my diabetes is tolerable but PSA count is elevated. I have no clue what he is talking about. He said that it is a sign of a prostate problem and that should see a urologist. I asked him to suggest one, and suggest one he did. He sent me to a urologist that I will call “Piledriver”. In the meantime, Homeboy gave me some antibiotics to take before going to see Piledriver so that if it is an infection it will show up on the next blood test. I got an appointment with Piledriver for about three weeks later and that visit is primarily to get my insurance information first and foremost and take another blood test and see if any change has taken place since the antibiotics. Piledriver’s office is easy to find because it is right behind the Bojangles on West Faris Road. I met Piledriver and he took me into a little room and did an obscene thing to me and said that my prostate was somewhat swollen but he did not feel any hard spots but we need a follow up blood test. I got to meet the nurse that is going to take the blood sample and I nicknamed her “Vlad the Impaler”. Vlad had a little trouble finding a blood flow and chose to wallow the needle around some. Finally as I am getting faint, Vlad got her sample and withdrew the needle and put a cotton ball on my arm. Old dumb ass me, still believing I am ten feet tall and bullet proof, almost immediately took the cotton ball off and headed for the door. Before I got to the door a lump the size of a goose egg arose on my forearm and my arm began to swell and stiffen as I got into the car. Three hours later my forearm was black and blue from elbow to wrist and was so sore I could not move it. Two days later my forearm looked like a dead dog so I decided that I had better go see Homeboy. I told Homeboy that I was worried that it might be blood clot so he checked my pulse and blood pressure and all is well that it is just some blood that had gotten loose under the skin because I did not hold the cotton ball on the spot long enough, and in the future I should hold my arm elevated and the cotton ball on the spot for at least 10 minutes after a blood sample. The discoloration and soreness finally subsided. The blood test taken by Vlad did not show any decrease in my PSA level and Piledriver suggested a biopsy three weeks later. I ask him what does a biopsy of a prostate gland entail. My jaw dropped to the floor when he told me. You mean you are going to stick what up where? So I made an appointment three weeks ahead for the biopsy. On the night before the biopsy I was suppose to get an enema. I live alone and a self administered enema is a hell of a trick for a long-waisted, short-armed boy, if you get my drift. Anyway, with some practice and maneuvering I got the job done. I arrived at Piledriver's office early and they finally called me in and wanted me to take all my clothes off except for my socks. I wondered that the socks had to do with it but I was just happy to get that far. After taking my clothes off I laid down on a gurney in a “treatment room” and waited about 35 minutes. This was the best part, I went to sleep. Finally Piledriver came in and we chatted for a short while and he told me to turn on my side. Very soon thereafter I found out what Piledriver had been talking about. He did yet another exploration with his finger and said that I wasn’t swollen very much but he was going to do an Ultrasound to help guide him in the “procedure”. It is believed that in another life Piledriver was the chief papal representative during the Spanish Inquisition and therefore has a propensity for instruments of torture. He pulled out one on this day. I never saw it, but it felt as being of a size between a “D” cell flashlight and a Thermos bottle with a golf ball sized object on the end. I also did not realize that my prostate gland was up near my navel. He looked around in there for a while and then pulled out another instrument of torture and said he was going to give me a “numbing” agent that the needle might “sting a little”. I was beginning to see spots before my eyes. After a few seconds he said that he was going to take a “few samples” and I began hearing sounds like a pneumatic nail gun. “How many samples” I gasped. He said normally it is 12, but he likes to be aggressive so he will get 20. I just bowed my head and tried to think of something more pleasant like a root canal or a wisdom tooth extraction. Eventually he said he was finished and withdrew all of his apparatus. Then I heard a female voice say “I will send these off to the lab”. I turn around and there is a fairly young nurse standing there that I had met before. I asked her if she had been there the whole time and she said yes. How could this girl ever have a romantic interlude with a man? This experience instilled in me a new respect for the gay men community. Anyway, the biopsy showed that it was indeed prostate cancer. Piledriver gave me three options. It was radiation therapy, surgery or radioactive implants and told me the positives and negatives of each procedure. I opted for the radiation therapy and he made arrangements for me at Cancer Center of the Carolinas behind the Platinum Plus strip joint. They were very professional and guided me through 38 treatments at five treatments a week until the therapy was complete. I went back over see Piledriver for a follow up visit. He said that I needed to get a hormone shot that would last a year. I asked him what was in the shot and he said Estrogen. That my friends, is a female hormone and the after effects are predictable. Piledriver said it was meant to shrink my prostate just in case. The next year is just a haze that I have little memory of. After a year I went back to Piledriver for a blood test for my PSA level and it was minuscule. He said that I need not come back anymore. It finally dawned on me how fortunate I really was. However the encounter with the “D” cell flashlight and the pneumatic nail gun will not be forgotten.
Thanks for listening I can hardly wait until tomorrow
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