Radiation and Beyond

“Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men! Let them exalt Him also in the assembly of the people, And praise Him in the company of the elders” (Ps 107:31–32). 

This is a wonderful psalm. As usual, whenever anyone quotes a passage like this, we should always look it up and read the quotation in its context. “Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for his goodness” is repeated several times in this psalm. And each of them comes in the context of remembering that God had come to his people’s aid over and over again. Also, that the aid he gave them was very often in response to stupid and sinful things the people had done.

In this post, I’m intending to tell you how my cancer treatment is progressing. However, what I’ve said above and what follows, isn’t to say that my cancer situation is due to my or anyone else’s sin. I don’t know that (other than Adam’s sin), I’m just saying that we should constantly be giving “thanks to the Lord, for his goodness and his wonderful works to the children of men!” 

Think how cool that would be. We’re driving along asking God for a parking place and when we turn onto our street and notice someone pulling out of the parking place we wanted, just when we need it, we burst into a joyful hymn of thanksgiving or a psalm of praise. Whoever prays for a parting place, you ask? Well, I do. Regularly. Sometimes I forget and have to drive around town several times until I do remember. And then, ta da, a car pulls out and I pull in. I know, there’s nothing in the bible about praying for parking spaces, still…

I also thank him when I go for a walk and my legs work and my feet don’t stumble. I thank him when I stand up and want to sit back down because the medications I’m on make me temporarily lightheaded. The experience reminds me that he has me in a grand adventure and we’re in it together. He put me here. I’m in his plan. He knows me. We’re in it together to give him glory and to please him. Pretty cool.

I run into people all the time who think my prayer life is pretty silly or even infantile, but what do they think, “pray without ceasing” means? What does this passage mean, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thess 5:16–18)? I don’t think it means to be praying out loud, or with your hands folded and your eyes closed, all the time. This would make things awkward in a meeting or when you’re driving. But being in the attitude of prayer and gratefulness all the time is a great way to be when living the life God’s given us.

Okay, back to the cancer update

“A man in your situation, rising PSA, finished radiation, no chemo, no surgery, 67 years old, not in the greatest physical shape, overweight, etc., lives for an average of three years after the PSA starts rising.” This is what the doctor told me right after I finished radiation at the beginning of February. My PSA number started going up last August. So, I quickly did the math and realized that I had, on average, about 2.5 years left with you all…in person. “Well, praise the Lord,” I said to myself. “Is there anything I can do to swing the average in my direction?” I asked. He said, “You can lose weight, get in better physical shape, and eat better.” Then he added, “You can eat better, but losing weight and getting in better shape is very difficult for someone in your situation. Your hormones are all nuts [my word], you need testosterone to build muscle, the hormone medication has taken away all your testosterone (the cancer feeds on that). You are essentially going through menopause. You’re also at the age where it is very difficult to build muscle. Also, the side effects of the radiation and the hormone medications are lethargy, lack of interest, being very fatigued (even when you haven’t done anything),” and on and on. “Well, praise the Lord,” I said to myself inside my head.

I asked him how people die in this situation. He said, “Usually, men die from major organs failing. They just shut down and you die.” I didn’t ask him if that was due to the cancer or the medications. I was a little bit stunned. I think I was still thinking about that average thing. And whether there was a bell curve and where on the curve I was. I didn’t ask. “Well, praise the Lord,” I said to myself inside my head.

Then, at the beginning of March, I went back to the doctor and talked with two nurses. They wanted to check on how the radiation treatment was affecting me (more on that in a minute). They both told me that the average of three years took into account all men, of all ages, through all history. This meant that it included men in their 20’s and men in their 90’s and everyone in between. But men in their 20’s generally live a lot longer than men in their 90’s because they can fight it better (they are spry, and healthy, and young). Whereas men in their 90’s just fall over quickly. So, there is a bell curve. I asked them where I was in that curve. They both said I was on the younger side of the bell. They both said that if age was the only consideration, I would live a lot longer than the three years. Well, praise the Lord!

Then, they mentioned that this average didn’t take into consideration all the progress the medical community has made in the past few years. They said that with the newer radiation and other medications and procedures, the curve has been dramatically stretched out. Another reason, I should live a lot longer than the three years. Well, praise the Lord!

On the way home from the doctor, I realized that I was pretty euphoric about this new news. Then it hit me that while I had been praising God for the news about my impending death, the kind of praising God I was doing after the new news, was very different. That concerned me. Shouldn’t I have been just as joyful about going to be with the Lord as I was about the news that I wasn’t going quit yet (unless I get hit by a bus)? Then I said to myself, “Mike, you’re over thinking it. Just rejoice in what God has laid in your lap, or what appears to be laid in your lap and feel the joy.”

So, that’s where things are. I have no idea why the doctor gave me that number when the average was based on such crazy numbers. I also know that just because I’m not as old as the oldest, I’m not as young as the youngest. I also know that God could let the cancer kill me at any time, or the medications (side effects). We’re all going to die. There’s no guarantees.

The Current Medical Situation

I’m currently taking three major medications. Two for hormone therapy, Lupron and Erleada. I’m also taking medications that are supposed to suppress the remove the side effects of the major medications. Then, I just finished 5 ½ weeks of radiation therapy at the beginning of February.

The following is a list of the side effects I’m experiencing. If you click on the links you can see lists of some of the most common side effects and you can praise God with me for what I’m not experiencing.

Erleada

Fatigue                                               hot flashes

Lupron

redness/burning/stinging at the injection site 

hot flashes (flushing)                       tiredness

trouble sleeping (insomnia)           reduced sexual interest

increased urination at night           dizziness (when I first stand up)

weakness                                           depression

memory problems (I don’t know if this is a side effect or simply a fact of life).

Radiation

Frequent urination                           Difficult or painful urination

Fatigue

There are also several things, related to lowered testosterone, that aren’t listed. For example, I’m more emotional than before. I cry more easily. Things like songs on the radio or my pandora affect me more deeply.

Every month the doctor’s nurses call me to check out how I am doing with the side effects and every month I report the same things. I praise God that I say, “No” to so many possible effects. And the ones I say, “Yes” to are very minimal. The only ones that really bother me are the fatigue (a lack of motivation to do anything is part of this), and the ones related to urination. The hot flashes aren’t that big a deal. When they happen, I just say (inside my head), “Hey, I’m having a hot flash.” Then I sweat for a bit, can’t focus all that well on whatever I was doing, and then it goes away. I just figure that’s part of the process.

The Plan for the Future

I don’t remember if I mentioned in my last post that my PSA numbers were going back up. This is called “castration resistant prostate cancer.” Apparently, having castration resistant cancer significantly changes the projected treatment protocols.

Now, they can’t/won’t do chemo (which I didn’t want to do anyway) and won’t do surgery. In the old days, they would say, they’ve done all they can do. It’s now just sit and wait. Nowadays, there are several other things we can do/try to stop the growth or even kill the cancer that exists and continues to grow and spread in my body. I’m not sure what they are, but Dr. Lance in Spokane seems to be pretty positive that one or some of them will “work.” I’m not sure what “work” means, but he’s pretty positive about it.

So, in April, I go up to Spokane for an Axumin Prostate PET scan. This scan can detect cancer down to very small sizes and they will scan my whole body to see more precisely where the cancer has wandered off to.

After that, we’ll see what the next step will be.

For now, thank you for praying for me. Generally, I’m in good spirits. I’m working as much as I can. I’ve added working out with weights and changing my diet to my regimen. Though that being tired and lacking motivation thing makes both difficult. I know that my redeemer lives, and he has his eye on me. It still bothers me a little bit that I was so relieved to know that I was most likely above the average life span of someone with castration resistant cancer.

Now I need to watch out for buses.

Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash