Two Weeks In

Two weeks ago today I had the procedure.

I suppose it was naive of me to think that I could skate through this unscathed. But that's human. We have to do what we need to do to get through the day.

It's not terrible, but I'm certainly feeling the effects of the radiation. I'm experiencing quite a bit of fatigue, especially in the early afternoon. I'm queasy as hell a good bit of the time. That's always a fun combination. And, unfortunately, I'm also experiencing some urinary problems.

I had a friend ask me what it felt like. I told him imagine sitting on a grapefruit. Now add a pretty good Urinary Tract Infection on top of that and you'll get the idea. Except that when you go to pee, you can't.

The hell of brachytherapy is that I haven't really hit the toxicity mark quite yet. I could have these side effects for the next 18 months, or they could go away tomorrow.

I vote for tomorrow. :)

I'm sure I'll feel better once I can get back in the water. I don't think it will happen this week as I still have a couple open wounds. Pool water and wounds. That's not a good combo.

I also had my first true 'cancer moment' this weekend.

We went to Spokane to see relatives. It probably was a little early for that much traveling, but both Suz and I needed the trip.

So, I'm sitting in Spokane in the parking lot of a supermarket with my brother-in-law, while Suz and her sister ran inside to get some ingredients for dinner when the nausea kicked into high gear. I fought it for as long as I could but the hand writing was on the wall. Had to have my bro (Thank you Jahn!!) drive me over to the edge of the black top. As sick as I was I was still being considerate. No one wants to watch a bald man yak in the middle of a Safeway parking lot.

The whole damn episode was just weird.

I'm crossing my fingers that those days are going to be behind me very soon.

I'm also in the 'whiny' stage of recovery. One of Suzanne's favorites. :)

That's where I am. I'll keep you posted.

The New Bracelets Are Here!

So I've been looking at all those nifty cancer bracelets.

How cool are they! I mean, you wear one of those things, and it just screams "I'm supportive!".

Plus it's like you're in a club with one of those things on your wrist. The brotherhood of the feral cells. The sisterhood of rogue tissue. Or something like that.

I was going to go and buy a whole bunch of Lance Armstrong's 'Live Strong' bands, but the message just didn't seem quite right. Live strong? How the hell else would one live?

So I looked, and I looked, and I looked. Oh, there were wristbands and bracelets a plenty, yet none that I thought could sum up my experience. None of them 'hit the spot' so to speak.

After much thought and careful planning I came up with a bracelet of my own.

I think you'll agree that the message could not be plainer.

I give you the David bracelet.

I'll have them for sale soon. At a reasonable price of just $99.99. This way I only need to sell a few. And all the proceeds from the sale will go to . . . something really good.

Not gas for the motorcycle.

Probably.

My First Week

So, it's now been 1 week since the diagnosis, and what a week it's been.

I've run the gambit of emotions. From unbridled optimism to a soul-scorching fear.

If I had my druthers, I much prefer optimism. :)

And really, there is no reason not to be optimistic. All indications are excellent for a good recovery.

Still there is that nagging doubt. You know - the one that comes on at 1:30 AM when the world is dark and quiet and it feels like morning will never come. Yet morning does come, and with the light the demons of the night are banished as quickly as soap bubbles on the sidewalk.

No matter how strong my spirit those doubts were doubled when I logged into FaceBook yesterday and saw a new posting for "In Memorium - Auburn High School". Reluctantly I clicked on the link only to find two friends had recently passed. We hadn't kept up since graduation, but these were guys that I'd went to school with since Jr. High. We weren't 'best buds', but we took many of the same classes, sometimes sat at the same lunch table - you know how it is. In my mind they are frozen in time. Both still those awkward teens with acne and lofty dreams and a brand new Driver's License.

And now both are no more.

I don't know what happened to Joe, I couldn't find any hint on the web other than a short obit, but Tony died of cancer.

Add to that one of my dearest friends - also friends since 7th grade - and one with which I have kept in contact - is at this moment in a Seattle ICU battling melanoma and apparently a brain hemorrhage. I remember just a little over a year ago her and I sitting at a Starbucks, joking about the 'little tumor' they found on her chest/shoulder, and how it really was more of an inconvenience for her than a worry.

So no matter how confident I am those situation tend to gnaw at my resolve.

It doesn't take much for me to realize how lucky I am. Even with all the crap going on I will get to see my 50th birthday, and hopefully years beyond, while Joe and Tony's lives have ended. I can't even bring myself to think too much about Anne, although I still do.

On a positive note I've seen my Endocrinologist this week as well as my family Doc and both appointments went very well. I'll post the details another day.

So there is nothing to do but move onward. I'm looking into various prostate cancer treatments at the moment and weighing the pros and cons of each course of action.

You know, it's not that there isn't enough information out there. The problem is there is almost too much information. I feel a bit overloaded. More on that later as well.

In the meantime I'm still proofing the galley of my book. I'm planning my marketing and starting to think about cranking up some publicity and signings. I'm training for my "Escape From Alcatraz Swim" on June 25th, and tentatively looking at some longer motorcycle rides.

But for right now it all feels quasi-real and a bit hollow.

-David