No News Is Good News

Nothing really to report, which is good news.

I'm playing the same 'symptom - no symptom' game.  Still have some burning and pain but nothing extreme.

The fatigue and nausea are almost completely gone.  I'm back swimming 4 days a week, and while I'm not up to my peak-performance workouts I'm still managing 2500 to 3000 yards a day.  My stamina has grown by leaps and bounds over the last two weeks.  It's nice to feel myself getting stronger instead of weaker.

So, no news is not only good - it's great.

Whine, whine, whine

Okay, I think I've been very patient. Hardly whiny at all.

Mostly.

Ask my wife Suzanne. She will tell you that's one of the first signs of me feeling better.

But now that I can no longer ignore the fact that it is fall - after a full three weeks of summer here in the northwest - it's ticking me off that I can't ride my bike.

I know, I know . . . small price to pay and all that.

But my motorcycle is what keeps me sane. Honestly. Riding is a form of therapy - a zen-like state of machine melded with the forces of physics into a symphony of gravity and acceleration. Punctuated only by teen-age girls on cell phones.

It has now been a little over three months since my posterior graced the saddle, and I'm gettin' a tad twitchy.

I know that I still have a couple of weeks to go before my butt hits the seat. And as I watch the days get shorter and the temps fall, it feels like I'm in a race for those last few magical days of non-rainy riding.

In the meantime I plan to start back on my regular swim schedule. The local pool has been closed for a bit and now that it's all shiny and clean, it's time to get back to my other home - the water. I won't be back to full workouts for a while, but I know swimming will be a boon to my soul as well as my body.

But still, it's not like a few hours riding around Mt. Rainier, or hopping over Chinook pass. Twisting and turning up those hills with Suzanne in the seat behind me, stopping for lunch or a picnic beside a quiet river - that's what's required to make me feel . . . normal.

That's really all the therapy I need.

Back to the pool

Got back in the water for the first time in a month yesterday.

It felt good.

I took it very easy, completing abut 1/3 of my usual workout, and even that wore me out a bit.

Still, the physical exercise does wonders not only for the body, but the mind and soul as well.

And, it was REALLY nice to get back to some sort of a routine, even if that routine is an abbreviated version of my regular day. It makes me feel 'normal'. Well, normal for me.

Plus I've got a huge group of friends at the pool. It felt like going home again. If by home I mean a wet, humid, chlorine-filled environment.

Every day is a little better. I know I'll have my ups and downs, as everyone does, but it's nice to see some progress.

Healing

So, I'm at that stage of recovery from the procedure where I'm . . . getting antsy to get back to my life.

I'm really missing the pool. I need to get back in the water for a host of reasons. I have a great community over there, and it would be nice to think about something other than cancer. Plus, my body really needs some exercise.

Don't you hate it when what they tell you is right? Exercise my friends. Exercise hard. It does the mind and body wonders.

They symptoms haven't really eased much, but I'm less tired now, and the nausea is slowly slipping away. Those are good things.

So, back to the pool for me on Monday. I'll be doing light workouts for a bit, but I'm sure I'll be back to my pruney self in no time.

Hey, it's a look.

Fudge

So, got the word yesterday that Loma Linda, and the Proton Beam Therapy, is definitely not in my future.

That leaves me with either the seed implant therapy, or the external beam radiation therapy.

I'm not really enthused with either of them, but they are both preferable to surgery.

Who knew cancer would be such a pain? I didn't sign up for this, and I would definitely like to speak to the management. I've been calling for ages, but no one seems to answer.

So that's where I stand. It's a bit of a surreal life right now. I have my book signing tomorrow night at the Mint in Enumclaw, and I have my 'Escape from Alcatraz' swim on the 25th of this month. The yin and yang of life.

And I'm REALLY beginning to feel the effects of lowered testosterone. I'm back to the way I was a few years ago. Tired, workouts are drastically reduced, recovery time is longer, etc. Damn brain tumor.

Time to get some treatment underway so that I can get it over with. As they say, 'a job begun is half done.'

As I think I said before I'm seeing one more specialist next week, then I'll make my treatment decision.

If anyone has any advice I would love to hear it. Post in the comment section or send me email.

My Radiological Oncologist And A Possible New Therapy

I met with a Radiological Oncologist on Friday.

Which was . . . about as much fun as meeting with a Radiological Oncologist.

My first impression as I walked into the building was, "Whoa! That's a strong smell of (medical) marijuana floating around the entrance." Which, for some reason, made my cancer seem very, very real.

It's strange being young, (well - relatively young), with a disease that primarily effects older men. I was the baby in the waiting room. The other men in there were in their 70s and 80s, and not looking in the best of health. Hey, they have cancer. We can't all be beautiful.

The consultation with the oncologist was rather routine, although he was highly impressed with my upcoming swim in San Fransisco in the latter part of June. Here's what I'm swimming:

Escape from Alcatraz - Sharkfest 2011

He remarked a few times about how long, and how hard I've been training for this event and what a shame it would be to miss it. This made me feel a tad guilty. I swim a lot - but I don't really 'train', if you know what I mean. I just swim. It's the only way that I can keep semi-mobile. Open water swims are a side-note; something to do on the weekends with my buddies from the pool.

He then went on to explain why radiation was better than surgery, what to expect, etc. Nothing too surprising there. Cure rates between surgery and radiation are about the same. Risk of serious side effects almost the same - a 50-50 chance, yada yada yada. Although with surgery you know immediately how screwed you are, but with radiation it sometimes takes months - or years - for the damage to show.

If I were to choose radiation therapy I would have daily treatments for 8 to 9 weeks.

I was going to post a graph of the various side effects and risks for each of the therapies but I found it depressing. You can look it up if you're that interested.

Yay.

As I'm sure you'll agree these are both, what we professionals refer to as "suck ass" therapies.

But as I'm learning, you can't really complain about the effects. Why? Because people will yell at you and tell you to be thankful that 'you're alive'.

There is an interesting gender phenomena regarding that statement above, but more on that later.

There is another therapy available. Although neither my urologist nor radiological oncologist suggested this form of treatment.

Why? Well, let's see; the urologist specializes in radical prostatectomy. He has a robotic surgery suite that he paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for, and it's what he studied in school. The radiologist has an advanced machine that he's paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for, and it is what he studied in school.

Never forget that cancer is big business.

Proton Beam Therapy has the same cure rate as surgery or radiation. It has a lower recurrence rate. But the cool thing is, proton beam has very, very few side effects when compared to surgery or external radiation. Not completely gone, but so much less it's not even funny.

Say wha?????

Unfortunately, there are only 9 Proton Beam Therapy Centers in the US at this time. Seattle is building one, (Seattle Cancer Care Alliance), but it won't be open until 2013. I just can't wait that long. I suppose it's not easy to construct a cyclotron. The nearest center for me is Loma Linda University. It's where they developed the therapy 20 years ago. Plus, the therapy is EXPENSIVE. And, even if insurance will pay a portion of the cost, I would have to figure out how to relocate to California for 8 to 9 weeks with all of the housing/food costs that would occur.

I need to win the lotto. Or sell like 7000 bracelets.

But still, to come out with a good chance of no lasting side effects? Seems like a no-brainier to me. Here's a good article from CBS News talking about Proton Beam Therapy:

CBS News Proton Beam Therapy

So I'm in the process of gathering medical records, talking to insurance, etc. Even if I clear those hurdles I might not be eligible because of my hip replacement. We shall see.

It's hard to not get really excited. But I wan't to be realistic.

So that's where I am today. I'll keep you posted.

If anyone reading this has any experience with any of the therapies I would request that you share. Comments are always welcome.