The past few days I've had some reminders that I'm still working my way through this process still. Some intestinal reminders, a whole lotta sleeping going on, and still a fair amount of fatigue. I suppose some of what I'm feeling is residue from the radiation treatments, and another level of it may be more related to my reaction to the hormone treatments that are still ongoing.
There's another nagging question that comes up - from others as well as myself: How do you know it's been successful? And really, from what I've been told, that's hard to tell. I can read the data charts on success of radiation treatments + seed implants along with hormone therapy, but how can I know that it all worked?
The radiation oncologist said we'd start monitoring PSA levels at some point (I don't recall exactly when) after the hormone treatments end. And we'd be monitoring those for 5 years, with the expectation that the level should be somewhere between 0 and 2. And he said they wouldn't run any additional tests unless the PSA level popped over 2. So, OK... that tells me the plan... but it doesn't tell me that it's all good. Until we've been through the next 5 years, I guess. I see the radiation oncologist soon (follow-up) so I'll get a better idea then. I hope.
Somehow, that doesn't give me the solid yes (or no) I was looking for. It gives me a "wait and see". Get back Loretta! It's not any different (really) than it would have been if I'd done surgery. It's just that I keep getting asked "was it successful?" and well, if we'd cut something out, I'd know - maybe - that the procedure was either a success or not. But I have the sneaking suspicion that thinking is fallacious.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
April is the cruelest month...
But let's not go too far with that. Who knows, maybe ole TS Eliot was referring to tax time? It sure hurt here.
But hey... that's not what I meant to talk about. In the wake of the events of last month (losing my job, going on short term disability, the end of radiation, and more) I realize I have been distracted from my habit of chronicling my experience here. So, today...
I took my first bicycle ride in ages - since January, I think - this evening and oh man am I out of shape! 11 miles and I was huffing. Very disappointing, so I think I'll try to step up the activity, or at least maintain this (seemingly lousy) level for the next week or so, and hopefully I'll see some change. There is so much coming back that needs to happen, and even though I tried to keep active on the indoor trainer, I just wasn't able to maintain any consistent level during the last of the radiation treatments. In the weeks since the radiation treatments ended (it's been about 3 now) I continued to see effects build. For example, I needed to make some diet adjustments to slow things down a little. Rice, and grilled cheese sandwiches seemed to do the trick. At least for me.
I'm still sleeping a lot, and as I saw last night when my sister was visiting for Easter dinner, I reached a point in the evening where I could just tell I had to get to bed. OK... it was late, but it was still before midnight! Anyway, I felt myself shut down, and just said I was sorry, but I needed to go to bed. Geez.
In closing, let me relate a short story that fits, I think, with the whole discussion of this being a fortunate occurrence (the cancer, I mean). I was talking to a friend about the shift that happened in my life, a shift that was completely outside of my control, yet happened as clearly as the dawn. I couched this using a juggling metaphor (something I cannot do, yet do with great regularity anyway). I suggested that all the tasks I was keeping up were like balls, being juggled by me. When the shift happened, it seemed to me that I chose to drop all the balls, except for one very important one. And in my thinking, initially I considered the one ball as being solely related to the cancer and the steps needed to address that. But I see now that the one ball contains properties of all the other balls I was striving to keep in the air. So, the one ball, the important one, is being held and contemplated. And in the sense that the one contains properties of all of them, what is important about the other balls is represented in the one, and therefore they remain. But the juggling is no longer important. What is important is the one. It is, in a very real sense, holding on to and letting go of everything, all at once.
But hey... that's not what I meant to talk about. In the wake of the events of last month (losing my job, going on short term disability, the end of radiation, and more) I realize I have been distracted from my habit of chronicling my experience here. So, today...
I took my first bicycle ride in ages - since January, I think - this evening and oh man am I out of shape! 11 miles and I was huffing. Very disappointing, so I think I'll try to step up the activity, or at least maintain this (seemingly lousy) level for the next week or so, and hopefully I'll see some change. There is so much coming back that needs to happen, and even though I tried to keep active on the indoor trainer, I just wasn't able to maintain any consistent level during the last of the radiation treatments. In the weeks since the radiation treatments ended (it's been about 3 now) I continued to see effects build. For example, I needed to make some diet adjustments to slow things down a little. Rice, and grilled cheese sandwiches seemed to do the trick. At least for me.
I'm still sleeping a lot, and as I saw last night when my sister was visiting for Easter dinner, I reached a point in the evening where I could just tell I had to get to bed. OK... it was late, but it was still before midnight! Anyway, I felt myself shut down, and just said I was sorry, but I needed to go to bed. Geez.
In closing, let me relate a short story that fits, I think, with the whole discussion of this being a fortunate occurrence (the cancer, I mean). I was talking to a friend about the shift that happened in my life, a shift that was completely outside of my control, yet happened as clearly as the dawn. I couched this using a juggling metaphor (something I cannot do, yet do with great regularity anyway). I suggested that all the tasks I was keeping up were like balls, being juggled by me. When the shift happened, it seemed to me that I chose to drop all the balls, except for one very important one. And in my thinking, initially I considered the one ball as being solely related to the cancer and the steps needed to address that. But I see now that the one ball contains properties of all the other balls I was striving to keep in the air. So, the one ball, the important one, is being held and contemplated. And in the sense that the one contains properties of all of them, what is important about the other balls is represented in the one, and therefore they remain. But the juggling is no longer important. What is important is the one. It is, in a very real sense, holding on to and letting go of everything, all at once.
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