I again had my PSA checked yesterday and again it is too low to be detectable. My diagnosis of an aggressive form of Stage 4 Prostate cancer is coming up on five years. November 2020, I believe. I'm not much for noting anniversaries but this is a big one since my Oncologist told me I had 3-5 years to live. No qualifiers or expressions of uncertainty. It prompted a poem about death coming for me as a ship coming into port. "The Good Ship Mortality". I expressed a grim acceptance. Perhaps once I have passed the 5 year mark I will find it and reprint it. I will call myself a "Dead man walking." Don't know that that is an appropriate use of the phrase (It's for someone headed toward the electric chair, isn't it?) but I'll do it anyway. Has a nice ring. My Oncology PA expressed astonishment that my energy level and mood remain good. I think it helped that I didn't know that that was what I could expect as a s...
My three month cancer checkup was this week and again, my PSA was too low to be detectable. Monotonously good news which certainly beats interesting bad news. I quizzed the oncology lady about a couple of things. One is that numbers associated with red blood cell count have been consistently low over the years. She has characterized them as "stable". I asked her if stable might also be "chronic" as in something permanently bad. A blood disease like leukemia I suppose. She assured me that if something like that were going on, other numbers would give an indication that something was wrong and that that was not happening. She said that the low red blood count numbers were not surprising, given the fact that my testosterone has been turned off. And besides, they weren't that low. I also asked what would happen if I were to go off the treatment program. After all, I have had nary a whiff of active prostate cancer for a ...
I had my PSA checked yesterday and it was again "too low to be detectable". So curious for such unchanging news to be, nonetheless, good news. Could change any time and because of that, I feel a twinge of apprehension ahead of time and then, on getting the same news, relief. I send out emails announcing the result and the celebration responds lack a certain spontaneity. How could it be otherwise? I don't want to stop sending the emails and recipients don't want to stop expressing happiness at the good but unsurprising news. But it does take on something in the nature of ritual. Oh well, nothing to complain about. In Cancer Journal #112, I included some writing I had done about my cancer survival and reported that I either had or would submit it to the local arts and entertainment magazine, Volume One. They printed it. It has some edits that I later made and pictures of me struggling to lift weights with my fitness c...
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