The
Last Day of Radiation
Monday,
July 27, 2016 was my last radiation day. My first radiation day was
April 25, 2016. That is 9 weeks, 5-days-a-week, which comes up to 44
sessions excluding one day the machine broke down (just an ordinary
plug), and a day off for Memorial Day.
Customary
to the radiation center, “the graduate,” (myself) brought food to
the last day of radiation (i.e., veggie plate, fruit plate, baba
ganoush, pita bread
and cream puffs). What follows is a short ceremony where I ring the
bell and am presented with a small gift packet containing candy, a
prostate cancer awareness bracelet and inspirational cards. I was
also awarded a certificate of completion signed by all members of the
staff.
Throughout
the program the staff at the radiation center has been welcoming,
warm and encouraging.
All
throughout and beyond the radiation center Nora has been a constant
supportive and irreplaceable presence.
Strangely
enough the radiation staff referred to my completion of the program
as a “graduation,” and although this was not on the certificate
of completion it certifies that I underwent treatment with fortitude
and strength. All I did was passively lay down on the bombardment
table.
These
last 3 weeks of radiation has zapped me of energy. I am slugging on
as best I can but not accomplishing much. I am way behind in terms
of moving into James A Reed, we have stuff in storage, there is the
Holly house that needs to be organized, there is this house (James A
Reed) which needs organization as well, and there is the question of
what to get rid of and what to keep. I am afraid we will be far from
done by the time the Fall semester begins.
The
nurse said things should begin (begin, not end) to turn the corner
after 7 to 10 days. The effects of the injection (testosterone
blocker) lasts up to 6 months (that means December).
My
mother (mommy
as she is called), was remarkable. She was under no medication for
the duration of most of her life. However, the last years before her
death she developed numerous difficulties. Among other things, she
was anemic and diabetic. Just when things became stabilized in terms
of her health, some problem would present soon after. Even though
her diet did not change she lost considerable weight and looked
anorexic. All throughout she retained calm and took everything well
in equanimity and grace.
This
Fall semester, Sophia and Nickolas are college freshmen, Nathaniel
is a college sophomore, Alethea is a high school junior, Froilan is
in 8th grade, Carlo in 6th
grade and Izzy is in second. Lanny has two grandchildren (a toddler
and an infant). This is the generation that will inherit our
bungling and glory to do their own bungling and glory. I trust that
justice and love will weave into everything they do.
Where
do I stand? What is the success rate (hit rate) of the treatment I
just completed? Of course there are statistics. But statistics are
group indexes and there is no direct way to go from a group index to
a particular person. These indexes have the disadvantage of lumping
everyone eliminating diversity, and many lack an adequate sample size
to begin with.
However,
taking into consideration my special situation (early detection and a
low Gleason score), success means that my PSA will be stable over a
10 year period. My PSA has to be taken every 3 months initially,
then every 6, then once a year. I understand that 5 years is the
cut-off when one can claim the distinction of being a cancer
survivor. My PSA as of June 8 is down and normal (PSA = 0.4)
PSA
is the primary and the only routinely used marker for prostate
cancer. They have to take your blood to get PSA. If my PSA does not
stabilize in the future they may have to do another biopsy, a bone
scan and (?). Neither of the above are welcome events.
For now, I will not miss my
son’s wedding, my children’s and grand children's birthdays,
graduation days, etc. Most importantly I will thrive in marital
bliss.
