Merry Christmas

It's Christmas Day. 
I am surrounded by, and filled, with love. 
It's very good.
I hope it's good for you too.

Peace and love to all.

Just me.

I can't tell you how many times I've sat down at this computer wanting desperately to post something positive, maybe even "up beat". I've been failing at it miserably...but hopefully not today.

I have a lot of amazing things happening in my life right now, amazing people too. Music has become a huge focus in my life. I love to play it, I love to write it. It feels good. It sounds good. It is good. It stimulates my heart and my mind simultaneously. There is only one other thing in life that can do that for me; true love. Lucky for me I have plenty of both.
I also have another year under my belt. At this time last year I could hardly walk and was just about to be diagnosed with cancer. Right now I'm walking, working, playing...anything I want to do, I can. I'm focusing on that; the right now, because right now, things are good.
I'm grateful for a lot of things...everything! I'm happy to be having my glimpse at the universe (such as I can, given our current technological ability to do so), my time to be. It took me around 13 billion years to get here, but I think my timing is pretty good. I have been born in a very special time of our history, and considering what I've read, and even heard about from my elders, how we used to live, I'd say I got a pretty good deal. Strong, secure, and warm shelter. Food on every street corner. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, and airplanes if we want to go really far. All the modern conveniences, from the computer that I'm typing into, right on down, this is a comfortable life for a lot of us. I feel very lucky to be one of the comfortable ones. I am surrounded by Friends and Family who love me, and I love them. We have good times together, making good memories. Life is good, and so is living.

I was given some very valuable, and very helpful, advice a short time ago by a very wise person..."Be, love, breathe, love." Those words, that sentiment, has carried me through some very dark passages in recent days.

I'm grateful for that too.

memento mori

Just when I thought things might be getting a little better.

Two weeks ago I had a series of CT scans and an MRI.  The purpose of these tests was to determine the effect that the cancer is having on my spine.  I have been experiencing some numbness/tingling in my fingertips and toes for a few weeks now, maybe over a month, I can't keep track of all this shit anymore.  The concern my Doctors had previous to the testing is the degenerative nature of the cancer in my bones and it's effect on my spinal cord as the bones deteriorate.  The question was, will it affect my mobility in the future, the use of my legs and possibly my arms.  The test results (which I just discussed with my Oncologist an hour ago) have given us an answer.  It is no longer a question of if, but when!  My legs for certain, my arms are still a maybe.  Given the way things have been working out for me I could guess which way the arm thing will go, but I should stay positive, right?
WTF!!  
There is a series of treatments that they already started me on which will, in theory, help me to maintain my mobility for as long as possible, but of course they can't say for how long. 
This is becoming more difficult for me to deal with on a week to week basis, even day to day is becoming problematic, including right now!  I am fucking pissed off!  Why is it always bad news?  It makes me feel like giving up and just letting it happen, but I can't do that because there are too many people who would not allow me to make that decision. 
Maybe it's time that people start to realize that it's not their decision to make, or maybe my anger is clouding my judgement.  Either way, it would seem that I have a lot to think about.

Just another selfish rant.

How the fuck did I get here?

How does a person like me -young, strong, practically a "health nut" when it comes to diet and exercise- fall prey to a cancer that is so aggressive it requires a daily effort to keep it at bay?  The only thing keeping me alive right now is modern Medicine.  If I had been born 1 generation earlier, my death would probably have come in my 41st year.  Is this natural selection?  Have I pissed off Mother Earth so strongly that she feels the need to take me out?  What the fuck did I do that was so bad? 

Science keeps me around.  For what?
Since I have had this death sentence imposed upon me I have been inspired to live my life with a passion that cannot be ignored.  One example of that is that I love every person that I know in a way that I used to take for granted.  I've been trying to nurture relationships with a lot of those people in a way that I probably never would have previously.  Some have been successful.  Some, not so much...but I'm still working on them, which brings me back to my point; for what?   So they can mourn me even more after I'm gone?  Am I not just adding to their grief?  Why has Science given me this "extra time"?  What am I supposed to do with it?

Sometimes I feel like nature doesn't accept me anymore because I'm not actually supposed to be here, and as a result, I find myself feeling...uncomfortable...or maybe uneasy is a better word.  I'm not sure, I can't quite peg it, I just feel...off.  Like I don't belong in this picture right now.  I'm out of place. 

I am living and loving to the fullest extent possible [and loving every minute of it] but by doing so I feel like I am somehow taking advantage of these people, the ones I care about the most.
I want to get over that because I love them and I don't like the way I feel when I think about what they will be going through after I die, but I want to get closer to them so I can spend more time with them before I go, and that makes me feel...selfish.
I don't want to hurt anyone.  

The real beginning.

I've been feeling rather...melancholy in recent days.  Maybe it's because of all the uncertainty that exists with regards to my treatments (or lack thereof) and current prognosis.  Maybe it's the fear of what's going to happen to my kids in the future.  Perhaps it's because my most recent PSA test shows my levels are back into triple digits -103- doubled in less than a month.  Whatever it is, I have found the resulting hindsight that I have been experiencing to be almost frightening in it's clarity, so, the wordy fuck is back.

I was reading back on this blog recently and I realized that, although I touched on it,  I never really described in detail the very first symptoms that I felt leading up to my diagnosis.  These "symptoms" were hardly noticeable events that occurred in such a way that I simply chalked them up to getting older and it was just part of that natural process for me, based on my genetics.  However,  had I recognized what they actually meant and been checked back then, I could have been treated for it and I wouldn't be in this situation right now.  I would have been one of the "lucky" ones who caught it before it was too late.   I thought it would be in keeping with my desire to help prevent this shit from happening to other people like me if I shared the true genesis of this blessed situation, the small stuff that I ignored until it was too late, so that someone else can hopefully count themselves as one of the lucky ones.  I think it's useful information because anyone reading this who recognizes these symptoms  in themselves will hopefully do something about it, and I think it's important information because these things were happening to me when I was 35 or 36 years old!  Quite a bit younger than the statistics would have you believe that you should be concerned about such things.  Also a bit younger than I had originally thought my symptoms started.  Like I said, frightening clarity.  

I can't remember exactly when the first "event" took place because I didn't think that much of it at the time so I never recorded it anywhere, but I do remember what it was, and I know that I was in my mid-thirties because it happened within a few months (maybe a year, tops) after having moved into my current home.
The very first time I felt something wrong was after a Beaches Jazz festival weekend in 2003 or 2004.  I don't remember much about the festival itself, due to the amount of alcohol consumption that took place, but I do remember waking up on Sunday feeling like someone had shoved a baseball up my ass and I couldn't get it out. [I also vomited that morning, which I have never done in my drinking career.  I have always done it at night before passing out, it makes the spins go away.  I'm not sure if it's relevant, but I thought I'd note it anyway...just in case.]   My prostate was so swollen that it was impossible for me to have a bowel movement.  I tried, I could feel the need to shit, but nothing could get past that fucking baseball.  The problem lasted for about 24 hours, then it went away and I felt fine.  Then it happened again.  It occurred every once in awhile over the course of several months, not every time I drank, but only when I had been drinking.  Then it started happening randomly, irrespective of whether I had been drinking or not, and more often.  This is when the urinary problems began.  Urgent and frequent need to piss, but a weak flow when it came.  It wasn't that bad in the beginning, I thought perhaps I was drinking too much, so I stopped for a few months.  It didn't help.  I also started having erectile dysfunction.  I found that to be a little emasculating and very embarrassing, but Viagra took care of that little problem (quite well in fact) so I didn't worry about that too much.  By this time I had done some research and knew that it was my prostate that was "acting up", but again, I was too young to worry about it being cancer, that shit only happens to old people, right?
Right...

I got that attitude partially from listening to the media ads on T.V. and radio that encouraged men my age to go for the old "finger swoop up the shoot".  Shitty propaganda because it made you feel like; "Yeah, sure, that's probably a good idea, but I feel fine.  Maybe next year."  (we used to be inundated with them, but I don't recall having heard or seen one for some time now.  Hmm.) Also, from talking to other people about it, including my Family Doctor.  A note here: I do not hold my Doctor responsible for this in even the smallest way.  He was simply following standard protocols, which are based on statistics and of course the desire to save the taxpayers a little money by not having expensive testing done when the numbers don't warrant it.  Bone scans, CT scans, biopsies, all of these things are quite costly.  What I blame is those protocols!  That is where change is needed, and the only people who can change them is us!  The patients!  The people who use and rely on this system to keep us healthy and alive for as long as possible.
If YOU, reading this right now, have ever felt anything that resembles what I just described above, you must go to your Family Doctor TODAY and demand a PSA test and get a D.R.E. (Digital Rectal Exam).  Not tomorrow, not next week...TODAY!!   He/she may hesitate and tell you that you are too young for that, that it's probably something minor like Prostatitis, and they may be right, but, what if they're wrong?  Why would you want to take that chance?  DON'T take that chance!  I did, and look at what it got me.  If your Doctor won't do it, tell them my story, or go to another Doctor.  I know, the idea of somebody putting their finger up your ass is not very appealing, (to most people anyway) but if it means the difference between seeing your kids grow up (Maybe even see some grand-children) or not?  It's a small inconvenience.   And, yes,  if you have no Family history of cancer, the PSA test will cost you $35.00.  Too much?  Then think about this;  how much money did you spend on Timmys last month?  Or beer? Or cigarettes? Weed?  Lotteries?  Whatever your "thing" is that makes you feel good, but if you didn't have it, it wouldn't kill you?  Would it?
Cancer will kill you, IF you allow it to arrive unannounced.
If you're that uncomfortable with your own masculinity and/or too cheap to spend $35.00 on something that might save your life, then, in my estimation, you deserve to die. [Bitter much? Yeah, maybe.]  If, however, you can be strong enough to see past all that bullshit, you could spare the people around you, the ones who love you, a lot of pain and heartache.  Not to mention the primary benefit to you; remaining upright and breathing for as long as possible.

I don't want to become some kind of preaching fanatic, but this shit is really starting to piss me off!  Every time I go to the cancer centre for treatment I see more and more people my age (or younger) being treated for a disease that we just shouldn't have.  It's a fucking epidemic and I want to try to do something about it.  So, I am begging, pleading with you, dear reader; do NOT ignore your body's signals that something is wrong.  The modern world is exposing us to more cancer causing agents than ever before in our history.  From the air that we breath to the food that we eat, we are ALL at risk!  Age is irrelevant.  Early detection is our only savior at this point. 
Take advantage of that, while you still can.

Radiation therapy

I've had yet another experience that is unique to people who have been blessed with cancer. 

I had a radiation treatment on October 7th.  It was interesting, and a little scary.  The procedure itself was not nearly as invasive as the biopsy was, but it was equally thorough.
They line you up with lasers and mark "cross-hairs" on your skin before you get sent to the actual machine that they use to expose you to the radiation.  It's very precise.  They can irradiate  very specific body parts and regions.  I didn't see any spiders so I don't think there's much chance of me becoming Spider-man, but one can always hope.


The pain has been far too much for me to deal with so I had to do something to try and improve my quality of life and my Doctors have assured me that the radiation will diminish the pain.  So far, their predictions have proven true.  Even more than they predicted, and sooner.  I was told that I would feel the effects in as little as two weeks or possibly after four but I felt a positive change in the pain almost immediately.  The next day it began to lessen and as of now I'm almost entirely off of my pain medication.  I still need a little bit, usually in the mornings and the evenings, but I'd estimate my consumption overall to be less than half of what I was taking two weeks ago.  There are, however, other side effects which I was told would be felt mostly in the beginning and then would taper off but I have only just started to feel those side effects in the past two or three days. Not much appetite, vomiting, nausea, diarrhea, y'know...the usual suspects. Overall I would call the treatment a success.

November 1st we decide which therapy to try that will have more long term effects, like the hormone therapy was supposed to do. As long as it keeps the pain at bay I'll be happy.   

Thanksgiving

I like Thanksgiving.  I am more aware now than ever before of just how much I have to be thankful for.  The fact that we, as a society, (in the Western world at least, but it is catching on) have set aside a special day to do just that gives me a glimmer of hope that maybe we won't eventually blow ourselves up or simply destroy the planet so that it can no longer sustain us. It is just a glimmer, but it is hope. However, I digress.
I have come to appreciate so many things that I had previously taken for granted.  So many, in fact, that I couldn't even begin to list them all here, but I would like to touch on a few.

The sound and sight of children playing.  Laughing and exploring, finding sticks to burn (and play with) in the fire. It's spectacular! I love it! Everything is new to them! Their innocence is invigorating (and often comical) to observe.  To see the joy on their faces when they discover something for the first time, like the fact that you can write letters in the air with the smoke from a smoldering stick if you make the motions at just the right speed, and then watch them disappear into the air as you draw your next one to spell a word. (usually peoples names)  That genuine happiness that they are feeling in those moments is so...heart warming. It reminds me that life such is a precious gift.  There are so many things in life that can bring us joy, even when we are "down", if we could just stop to look at them, as if for the first time.

The stars.  I was in Haliburton this weekend. The night sky away from the light pollution of a city is brilliant with stars. The stars I grew up staring at for hours at a time because I was dazzled by them. I don't see them nearly enough anymore (well, sometimes Tuesdays) and being exposed to them for two nights in a row has made me...remember.  Remember that innocent feeling of discovery that I felt back then.  It's a good feeling.

My Family. Family is a powerful thing, especially if you have a good Family. A Family that loves and cares about each other unconditionally, without judgement or malice.  They all live their lives, their lifestyles, with different ideas and belief systems but when they are together they are...Family.  Nothing else matters.  I have a good Family.

All of that is tied together by one thing, something that I touched upon recently in a previous post; love.  I am most thankful for that. It is, as I said, the most precious gift that we can get, and I am thankful to be the recipient of so much of it, from  friends and Family alike.
For that, I say... Thank you.

The battle rages on.

I have had a pretty busy appointment schedule in the last couple of weeks.  I am beginning to think I could get a job as a greeter at Sunnybrook giving directions to the "clientele", I've become that familiar with the place. [I could use the money to cover the cost of parking.]
Bone scans, C. T. scans, bloodwork, radiation therapy (more on that later)...it seems never ending.  I can see why it's called "fighting cancer", it is an exhaustive (and exhausting) series of attacks and defensive maneuvers, trying to keep me alive, and my quality of life at an acceptable standard with regards to pain control. We are stepping things up a bit right now in order to find the next (and best) course of therapy since we discovered that the hormone therapy I was on is no longer effective.  My current prognosis is 2 years, plus or minus a few months.  It doesn't sound good, I know, but that estimate is based on statistical data compiled from cases that are similar to mine, and the majority of those cases were men 60 years and older, so my age could (and should) be a factor that makes a difference. Our goal right now is to drive that number up by finding the best form of treatment for me, something that will "stick".

There is a case study coming up in the next few weeks that I qualify for and has had a lot of positive results at other institutions but my Oncologist is concerned that I might end up with the placebo so he wants to have an alternative "on the ready" just in case, hence all the testing. In the meantime, tomorrow I get radiation treatment that's designed to alleviate the pain.  Unfortunately for me, the way it works means that the pain will actually increase for a short time, maybe a couple of days, before it gets better. (Yay! More pain! Can't wait!)  As long as it eventually works the way it's supposed to then I consider it a small, if uncomfortable, price to pay. 

Other than all of that, Thanksgiving is coming, and I have a feeling that it's going to be a very special one for me, given that I am so much more aware of all that I have to be thankful for.  I am very much looking forward to spending the weekend up north with my Family.
I may even write a blog about it.

And now, for something a little more positive.

As I continue with this adventure that we call life, I am still amazed at how some things just sort of come together at the strangest times and places.
Here I am fighting for my life, fighting a battle that will continue for my remaining days on this planet. [A battle that I hope lasts for a very long time.] It cause me a lot of pain and I know it will ultimately not end in my favor, and yet, in the midst of it I have found something that makes my life better than I had ever imagined it could be.
I have found love.
The kind of love that I never dreamed was possible.  Strong, true, and unconditional.  Love that I had believed (until now) could only occur in Families, through blood.  I have never felt so much passion for another human being as I do right now, so much comfort, so much joy, for a very special woman who feels the same thing for me. It's a strange feeling to be going through the kind of tribulation that I am right now and still feel like I'm the luckiest man alive!  I wish that everyone could find what we have found.  It's the most amazing thing ever! Everyone should be so fortunate as to find this kind of happiness and I can't believe that I almost didn't let it happen!  I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to all of the people who advised me to take the chance, irrespective of my fears, (you know who you are) to all of you I say; thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for helping  to convince me that I should not let an opportunity like this pass me by, regardless of my current health concerns.

K and I have marveled at what we have together and discussed it at great length.  We have determined that the key, or secret  if you will, to our happiness is really quite simple; we love each other for the people that we are, not for the "potential" that we may see in each other for change that would allegedly make things even better between us. In the past, we have both been guilty of nurturing relationships with people that were essentially based on the hope that if we stuck around long enough we could eventually effect change in the other person, we could "fix" them,  if just given enough time.  It's a common mistake, many people make it, but we seem to have learned from those experiences and also are lucky enough to not really want to change each other anyway.  We accept and love each other "as is". Faults (which are few) and strengths (which are many) combined.  We have a mutual respect and trust for each other that is almost scary.  There is no jealousy, there is no judgement, there is no selfishness.  There is only love and companionship. 

I believe that love is the most powerful force on this earth!  It is so powerful that we often find ourselves being afraid to discuss it or uncomfortable even saying it.  Think about it; when was the last time you told someone who is close to you in your life that you love them?  I'm not just talking about significant others, I'm talking about your Parents, your Children, your Friends.  The people that matter to you.  If it's been a while then you should start doing it. Take it from me, it feels good.  It brings people together in a way that nothing else can. I feel it from (and return it to) all of my friends and Family.  It gives us strength and inspires us to live our lives to the fullest. It's the closest thing to magic that we have in this plane of existence.
It makes us smile, it makes us frown.  It makes us laugh and it makes us cry.
Maybe it can even cure cancer.
I am grateful to have so much love in my life. I believe that without it, I might already be dead.

My dark place

Pain.
It can do strange things to the mind. I can see why torture is such a popular means of extracting information from people, because you can get a lot of cooperation from a person if you hold the ability to make it stop. 
Pain.
The kind of pain that courses through your bones, the very core of your being, constant and uncaring. That kind of pain makes things run through your mind that you never imagined you might think.
Hurtful things. 
Angry things. 
Scary things.
Things that I was going to write about but changed my mind because I don't want to be reminded of them later.
I just want it to go away.

Starting over, Redux. (and a little bitching)

It's been two days since my visit to the oncologist.
The battle is indeed beginning again.
He has scheduled me for a new round of tests.  Bone scan, MRI, x-rays and lots of blood work, in order to determine exactly where I stand with regards to the growth of my cancer.
Due to the nature of hormone refractory cancer he has told me to stop taking my daily hormone pill because at this stage it's likely that the pills are actually feeding my cancer instead of arresting it, which means one of the things that was previously helping to keep me alive is now killing me. [*sigh*]  He wants me to continue with my quarterly shots because a sudden influx of testosterone would also be problematic, for the same reason.[**sigh**]  On a somewhat lighter note; he almost had a heart attack when I told him how much Advil I've been taking, [The look on his face was priceless] says it bad for my kidneys, so he told me to stop taking that too, or at least so much of it.  That's a problem because up to this point the only thing that has been keeping the pain at bay is the Advil. After I've allowed my body a little break from it I'm going to try taking the prescribed amount only, (in conjunction with the pain killers) with the hope that it will still have some effect.  I'm not very optimistic about that, there is a reason why I was taking so many of them, but I have to try everything that I can.  He gave me a prescription for a low dosage morphine pill (the oxy's make me drowsy.  I can't take them and function during the day) which I have been experimenting with to determine how much I need to battle the pain.  The past two days have not been very pleasant for me but I think I'm getting closer to the correct dosage now.  Today is better than yesterday was, I figure I should have it just about right within the next day or two, I hope. The thing is, pain killers don't get rid of the pain for me, they only lessen it, just make it more bearable.  The constant pain gets pretty frustrating after a very short time, but it's part of the fight so I am digging in and hoping for the strength required to deal with it. I have a very good "support group" in my friends and Family, they all help a lot. 

My Doctor and I discussed a few of options that could be available to me, none of which can begin until after the test results have come in, which means that pain has now become my constant companion, again. [Welcome back, "friend", you were not missed.]  One of them is a new, stronger form of hormone therapy.   Another is something called Zoledronic acid. It's given by intravenous infusion into the bloodstream over 15 minutes and usually done every three or four weeks.  It's used to help strengthen bones and help relieve bone pain. There is also a radiation treatment that can get rid of the pain but due to it's nature it can only be done in one area of my body, once, which makes the test results an integral part of any decision to move forward. We need to know exactly where to attack the first, and only, time. It's a one shot deal.

I guess that's it as far as an update.  I'm not quite sure how I feel about all of this (other than a little overwhelmed) but I'm sure I will have all kinds of things to say about it in the future, once it's sunk in a little.

After all, I am still a wordy fuck.  I'm pretty sure that part of my life isn't going to change.

Starting over.

Well...here I go again. It's been some time since I felt the need to use this outlet to assist me in dealing with my "issues" because overall (with the exception of a few weak moments) life has been very good for me. However...

It seems pretty clear at this time that the hormone therapy has indeed stopped working for me.  The pain is coming back.  It's not as bad as it was...yet, but it's coming.  I can feel it.  I'm taking 12 to 16 extra strength Advil every day, plus 2 Oxy-codone tablets at night to help me sleep. ( More on that later.) It works quite well right now, as far as managing the pain, but it's not doing anything to help prevent my ultimate and untimely demise.

I have an appointment with my Oncologist on Sept 10th to discuss treatment options and I have been doing some research.  Right now I'm still optimistic about the future, but that could change depending on what happens on the 10th. I'm more than a little disappointed that the hormone therapy isn't working for me, especially since it started so well and it's so non-intrusive. A pill every day and a needle every three months, who can't handle that? It takes 9-12 months of treatment before it can be determined with any kind of certainty that the therapy is truly working the way it should.  I counted my chickens before they hatched. I have to stop doing that.

I'll be posting updates.  Meanwhile...

It has been a spectacular summer!  I have been busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest!  It's been good, but, because of the hectic, busy, and often repetitive lifestyle I've been living, it has prevented me from doing some of the things that I had planned to do, seeing some of the people that I want to see, but I'm pretty sure I still have time for that.  (Hmmm.)
I have been so busy that I've sacrificed quite a bit of sleep.  I average about 4 hours a night, when I do sleep. Sometimes I stay awake for so long that when sleep actually does come it's more like my body shutting down than rest, and I never sleep for more than six hours, no matter how long I've been awake. I don't do it intentionally, I do try to sleep but something inside me overrides that natural instinct and I decided to ride it out and see what I might learn from it. Some people call me a vampire, others call me a fruit bat (nicknames... pshaw) I prefer to call it...living!  I feel more alive when I'm awake.

It's kinda funny actually; I spent a long time at the beginning of this "ordeal" yearning for sleep. Sleep that was being taken away from me by the pain, but as soon as the pain was taken away something else started to steal my sleep from me...the desire to experience. The desire to be conscious and aware at all times, to live and experience life as it occurs around me.  I don't want to miss anything.  I've become the person that people call late at night when they can't sleep, because they know that I will be awake.  It's an amazing feeling, being there for your friends in the dark hours when they need someone to talk to. Sometimes I offer advice, but usually I just listen, because really, at the heart of it, that's all anybody truly wants...an ear, someone they can talk to without fear of reproach. They always feel better afterwords, and usually come to their own solutions  because they are saying it out loud instead of just thinking it.  It gives them a different perspective.  I like that I can provide that outlet for them. It makes me feel useful in some way, helpful to the people I care about. 

My life continues to be an amazing and excellent adventure, filled with vibrant and loving characteristics. I may have my "down" moments but I have not lost sight of the appreciation that I have for everything! 
I think that I've heard it said; living is easy, it's life that's the challenge. Although it seems that life and living are becoming a challenge for me, I'm up for it, because both are too good to just give up without a fight.

Denial.

Disbelief in the existence or reality of a thing.

 

Interesting, isn't it?  Denial is a force so powerful that we can (and usually do)  find ourselves denying the fact that we are in denial. How fucked up is that? 

 

I think that many of the people who are closest to me are in denial, and I am one of them. How do I protect myself from that?  How do I stay clear headed, accepting of the reality of my situation while still trying to embrace what I have left with as much passion and vigor as I can muster, but not fall into the trap of "don't worry, everything is going to be okay."? I hate this shit! It's like I'm in limbo. I'm alive, more alive than I've felt in years, but I'm dying. Faster than everyone else in my life, but still slow enough that it's impossible to notice, even by me sometimes.  What the fuck am I supposed to do?!?  Be all miserable and doom and gloom; "Oh poor me, I'm so hard done by."? I'm not interested in that shit!  I've been living my life to the fullest extent possible, with a new found appreciation for everything, but by doing so I have left myself unprepared for the reality that is currently kicking me in the ass because I have crept into that beautiful bubble of denial. I don't know how to deal with such a juxtaposition of realities.  I want to feel both, need to feel both; but I can't! They just don't blend together.  I want to live my life to it's fullest, counting the joy of every passing moment, but I don't want to lose sight of why I started doing it. I'm confused. I don't know what I'm supposed to think or how I'm supposed to feel.

It's been awhile...

I had forgotten how busy things get in the summer. Life moves much faster. Everyone is making plans, wanting to squeeze the maximum amount of fun out of the two measly months of good weather that we actually get in this Country. It's like the whole Country has become a madhouse of activity. It's fascinating to observe. I never really took much notice in it before, but I do now.

It's been a good summer so far. I've had lots of good times with my kids, some good friends, started a new job working with good people, and I found true love. Love with a woman who gets me, who loves me for the person that I am and not the person that she thinks I could be if I just "tried harder". Life has been very good and I have been loving it!
So much so, that I had almost forgotten about the cancer. My treatments were working well, I felt good; I was "back", I had won!
I am a fool.

My most recent quarterly shot/P.S.A. test was on July 22. The results were...less than favorable. My previous test, in April, revealed a dramatic decrease in my P.S.A. levels, down to less than 1, which is still not perfect but it's damn close. A perfect score of zero appeared to be imminent. I was on top of the world! I was so positive that everything was going to be okay that when the back pain started 3 weeks ago I just chalked it up to working too hard and not sleeping enough, which I still believe to be true to some degree, but some of it feels all too familiar and I'm frightened by it because it coincides with an increase in my P.S.A. levels, which are now at 23. That result means that I have most likely entered into what is called the hormone-refractory stage of my type of prostate cancer. It is the inevitable end that occurs when you are on hormone therapy but often it works for years before the cancer cells become hormone resistant, I was hoping to be one of those cases -counting on it actually- but it doesn't appear to be in the cards for me. I am doing one more 3 month cycle. If my symptoms get worse and/or my P.S.A. levels don't come down then my only option is chemotherapy. I am not looking forward to that.


I have spent the last few days trying to convince myself (and a few other people) that this is just a bump in the road, a "glitch in the matrix" kinda thing, but the more I research [I read medical journals. Sometimes it hurts my tiny brain, but I prefer scientific explanation over emotional speculation.] the more convinced I become that the hormone-refractory stage has begun. So what does that mean for me? It means that a new battle is about to begin, one that involves me going through a lot of pain and discomfort. That's the part that I'm frightened of. I accepted the concept of death a long time ago, even before the cancer. I would like to avoid it for as long as possible, of course, and I'm pretty pissed off at the prospect of having my life cut short by something I can't control, but I am aware of it's inevitability. What frightens me is the pain. The fucking pain! I abhor it! I don't know if I can do it again, but I have to try because I have too much to live for. Now, more than ever.
So, let the "games" begin! I'm gonna kick this shit right in it's ass!! It's my body, I still have some control. My opponent is formidable but I am not weak and no fucking way am I going down without a fight!


In other news...I'm back to smoking cigarettes (big surprise). But hey, nobody likes a quitter, and if there is one thing that I'm not, it's that.

Addictions

I quit smoking today. I'm wearing a patch that's pumping 21mg's of nicotine into my bloodstream at ALL TIMES!

It's better than smoking.

More to come...

As the world continues to turn...(sort of)

It would seem that some people feel that I've not exposed myself enough on this blog, so , I'm going to attempt to rectify that situation a little bit now.
Regarding the long comment posted by "anonymous" on my last entry, some people have asked me why I don't just get rid of it, and my answer is quite simple; because I don't want to. I'm not a big fan of censorship. Besides, it is real and it's passionate, and it is meaningful to the person who wrote it, and that's what this blog is supposed to be about. Why would I want to interfere with that? That being said...

I've done plenty of things in my life that make me feel shame, but I'm not ashamed of my life. I've made plenty of mistakes (bad decisions) but I would not discount or deny them any more than I would my accomplishments. Those mistakes are just as much a part of me and my life as the good choices that I've made, to deny them would be to deny myself. Those choices are what makes my life my life. They make me, me. Good, bad, or indifferent those choices make me who I am.
I cannot try to "justify" my selfish actions if those actions have caused negative feelings to stir in other people. It's all relative. If I have two concert tickets and two friends, do I give both tickets to my friends and miss the show myself? Or do I pick one to go with me, thereby making one happy and leaving the other with hurt feelings? I do not set out to maliciously hurt people's feelings, but unfortunately, some of the decisions that I make affect some people in that way. As far as I'm concerned that is just life. We all do it. I, however, have been exceptionally selfish in many aspects of my life. Aspects where selfishness should not be a factor but I chose to make it one anyway.

I have made quite a few of what some people would call questionable decisions in my life, and I will continue to make them, I'm sure, because I am not "perfect", and at the end of the day, I am very selfish. I am not proud of this trait, but I do accept it because it is who I am, it is how I have always been. It is a flaw and I try to recognize it as often as I can but more often than not, I "miss" it and end up erring on the side of selfishness. To have this shortcoming pointed out to me, even in an angry and malicious manner, is good for me. It opens my eyes to my own bad behavior. As far as I'm concerned if I have "wronged" someone then I deserve to feel the repercussions of it. If that means that such a person will feel better about themselves by hating me, then so be it. There is nothing that I could do to give them as much satisfaction as that, and in their eyes I deserve it, so who am I to question it? Other than to try to not let it happen again, which I often fail at.
As for the burial that I "bailed" on, I made yet another in a long line of bad decisions. I succumbed to an emotional spike that was brought on by a confrontation and reacted inappropriately. I made the wrong choice. If I could take it back and do it over again I would, but the deed is done, and now I have to live with it. I am so sorry for having done that. There is no excuse, I should have "sucked it up" and attended instead of using my emotional state as an excuse to stay away. Once again, I was being selfish. I intend to approach each individual who was in attendance and apologize to them personally for my bad behavior. It's not much, but it's all I have, except to not let something like that happen again, but only time and circumstance will allow me that opportunity so I will have to wait, and remember.
I have changed in a lot of ways, but in others, I have not. I really need to work on that.

Some days...

I had a very strange weekend. It was filled with such a wide range of sorrow and happiness that by the end of it I was thrust into a state of utter confusion. I experienced the joys of friendship and love, and the sadness of death and disappointment and by the end of today all I wanted to do was just shut down.
It was too much.

I have been living my "new life" with such passion and vigor, savoring every experience -good and bad- to such an extreme that the conflict becomes almost unbearable. I don't know how I'm "supposed" to be feeling at any given moment. I was touched by death twice this weekend. The loss of my Daughter's dog and the tribute to a good friend whose ashes I helped spread as part of his dying wish. I was also touched by love this weekend, meeting new friends and enjoying the company of old ones. The juxtaposition of joy and sadness all at once, and feeling it on the level that I do now, creates a turmoil within me that I am unable to reconcile. How can I be laughing and having a good time when I feel such sorrow, and how can I be crying when I feel so much love around me from the people that I'm with? I can't separate the feelings from the respective experiences, and the passion that I feel is so overwhelming that I feel as though I'm losing control of myself. I don't know "which way is up".

It causes me to behave inappropriately sometimes, which has an adverse affect on the people around me, people that I care about. I feel like I'm disappointing them by not having the strength to reign myself in, to control this clusterfuck of emotion that is swirling around inside of me. I don't want to disappoint anyone, but I also don't want to sacrifice any of the powerful emotions that course through me now, positive and negative, because they make me feel alive and vibrant!

It's a conflict that I have been dealing with for some time now, and I guess the extreme ups and downs of recent days have brought it more to the forefront for me.

Some days are just better than others.

Taking it for granted.

This has been an exceptional past few weeks for me, culminated by an extraordinary weekend.

It never ceases to amaze me how much of life we take for granted, and how much we can miss those things when they are gone. I had the privilege of spending time with some old and dear friends of mine this weekend, some of whom I have not seen for some time. It was amazing how good it felt and how familiar we still are even though we'd not seen each other for so long. We essentially just picked up where we left off, as if we had only seen each other just yesterday. Good friends like that are hard to find, it's not good to lose touch with them, but it's very good to know that the friendship endures, irrespective of your communication level.

It makes me think about how we make connections with people. Why is it that some people can just "mesh" together, get each other, and others are like oil and water. They might be able to get along, but there's no cohesion. I've met a lot of people in my life, some of whom I even called friends, but most of them have faded out of my life and grown into their own lives. There are a select few, however, who endure. We are important parts of each other's lives, and we can feel it. Why are we so special to each other? What's the connection? I don't believe it can be broken down so simply as to say it's common experience, "birds of a feather" if you will. It runs deeper than that. Some of the "connections" I've made are with people who are 100% different than me. We live completely different lifestyles, and as a result hardly see each other. Yet, when we do, the connection is there. The passage of time has not weakened it.
By that same token, new connections can be made at any time in our lives, it is not reserved strictly for our youth. I've been finding these connections all of my life. I've made two of them as recently as this past year. It kinda freaks me out. It makes me wonder; how? How does it work? Why does it work? Does it really matter? Am I analyzing this too deeply? Yeah, probably.

Maybe there are some things in life that can be taken for granted, and strong friendships like that are one of them.

My Nona "episodes"

My Nona was a beautiful woman. She was Italian. Devout Catholic, with all the prerequisite stereotypes associated with such a designation, and some issues of her own. She was fun to be with. We spent a lot of time together when I was a child and I got to know her pretty well. She tried to indoctrinate me into Catholicism but it never worked and she knew it, and on some level, I think she envied me for that. As brainwashed as she was, she could still see the "other side" but just couldn't break free of her chains. It was, in her opinion, (I think) too late for her to change. I think she was afraid that we would think her hypocritical for "changing sides" so late in life. Among other things...

Regardless, it's her "other issues" that I believe have the greatest effect on me currently. I believe that she was manic depressive, and lucky me caught some of that in the gene pool. I don't know if that is scientifically possible, but I'm gonna run with it, because there is nothing I like more than to blame my problems on my ancestors. It makes me feel good about myself. lol?

She used to go through these, "episodes", where she would go from extremely happy to extremely low, sometimes for extended periods of time. I have witnessed some of these transitions, as they occurred, and I remember thinking, even at that young age, that it was not...right. Based on my perspective, she had no real reason to effect this change in her demeanor, it seemed random to me. It was as though she couldn't control it, it would just happen. There were "triggers" of course, things that would set her off, but once those triggers were pulled she couldn't stop the bullet. She would sometimes go for days, even weeks, without talking to anyone, not even her Husband (except for the necessary communication required to maintain life), and as a result the whole Family suffered. It was a sad time for me when she went through these tribulations, because when she was happy she was brilliant! She would play guitar and sing, and her laugh was strong and infectious. I can still hear it, I miss it. I loved her dearly. Even through her "bad" times, because I used to have them too, and I had one today.

I have had these "episodes" all of my life, to varying degrees (just like her) but this is the first time that I have had one since my "enlightenment". It's...interesting. I am miserable, and angry about nothing, and fully aware that I have no reason to feel these emotions, and yet, I can't stop them. WTF?? Before, I simply accepted these events as "par for the course", it's just how I am; don't like it? Fuck off! But now, I am seeing life through a new set of eyes, and I don't like what I'm seeing right this minute. This is a short episode, mind you, and it's already beginning to fade, but I have "observed" it through my "new eyes" all day today and it wasn't pleasant. I don't like to lose control. Because of my new perspective, I had more ammunition at my disposal to fight it, but I still felt like it was a losing battle because I had to fight it. Because I couldn't control it instead. It was disheartening, to say the least.

However, it's fading now and I am learning from it. I think I am learning what my triggers are, so that I can do my best to avoid them, so that this doesn't happen to me as often in the future as it has in the past. It's been a long time since I felt this way. It's like that part of my personality was "put on hold" so I could deal with my "ailments", and now that I have, and I'm feeling better, it seems to be retuning...

Or maybe I just had a bad day.

My quarterly shot

For those who haven't been paying attention, or perhaps just don't care, part of my cancer treatment involves getting a needle in my stomach every three months. I received my second one today. P.S.A. tests are done in conjunction with those quarterly shots, to monitor my levels and ensure that the treatments are still working.

The perfect scenario with the drugs that I'm on is that my P.S.A. level comes down to zero. A zero result means that my cancer has become inactive, it has stopped growing and essentially just lays there dormant. My levels have dropped from 164 to .059! It's on it's way to working perfectly! My Doctor would still like to see that number at zero, but he is happy with the obvious progress and confident that my next result will be zero, based on how it has worked thus far. It's an amazing relief to know that I have been given this "second chance" at life, so to speak. That I can almost certainly now measure my remaining time in years rather than months, it does however create a small predicament for me.

I am compelled now to examine the question, which was asked so poignantly by a certain penguin that I know in response to one of my earlier posts; "now what?", on a very serious level. It's a question that I never considered too much previous to the knowledge of cancer because I was pretty much just living my life the way I saw fit, through the eyes of a person who was comfortable in my false sense of immortality, always thinking there will be tomorrow to "do that". The cancer changed that perspective but because I was still so unsure as to how much time I actually have, I never really examined it much. I have been living day to day, considering what my future could hold, but never really believing that I had much of one. Now the treatment, and it's positive results, have given me the opportunity to live with that new perspective intact. I do have some tomorrows. So what do I do with them? Where do I go from here?

Am I in danger of falling back into that "comfort zone", now that I am feeling healthy again? I don't think so because I still have so much appreciation for the fact that I feel better now. I still say out loud how glorious it is to be able to pee normally every time that I do it. (I get some funny looks when I'm in a public washroom, but I still do it. It just comes out, I can't help it.) I still remember what it was like to be sick but I re-read my earlier posts the other day, the ones that I wrote while I was sick, and it brought me back to it on a level that I had not felt for a long time. It made me wonder if someday I would just "forget" and start living my life the way I used to; taking things for granted and wasting my time with vapid activities designed to do just that, waste time. Again, I don't think that's going to happen to me, but the thought did cross my mind.

I love my life, and all the people who are in it, the ones who allow me to be a part of their lives. As I said in a previous post, I have a new appreciation for everything and everyone, however, as I examine the question "now what?", I find some of the answers I'm coming up with are going to disappoint some of those people, and that hurts me.

The words of John Lydgate come to mind; “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”. Wise words. I need to truly take them to heart, and realize their veracity, so that I may move on with my life in the direction that I want it to go (irrespective of what some other people may want) with a clear conscience and no feelings of guilt.

I know that it won't be easy, but I guess that's life, isn't it?

The ride.

I started writing this post quite awhile ago. I left it unfinished, then came back and finished it, and then didn't like it, so I just left it. Well, I'm sick and tired of looking at it labeled as a draft. It was either post it or delete it, and since I don't delete anything...

I find that a bike ride can be a useful analogy for life. (Yes, there are myriad of others, but I'm familiar with this one, so humor me.) Here you are, traveling down a road with lots of twists and turns, potential dangers heightening your sense of awareness, mixed with immense joy, beauty, and the thrill of new experience. Discovering and navigating new roads that will ultimately take you to the same predetermined, and anticipated, destination. There are some bumps, sometimes rain, or other technical difficulties but we persevere, (it's all part of the adventure) ever mindful of our goal.
Yet, once that destination is reached, as rewarding as it may be, there is an overwhelming sense of melancholy; the end of a good ride. The smells, the sounds, the sights, the invigorating feelings of power, freedom and control, finished. The satisfaction of having had a wonderful experience, mixed with sorrow at the knowledge that the experience is over now. Yearning for it to continue, but knowing that it can't, we begin to make ourselves feel safe in the knowledge that there is always tomorrow and we can do it again.

But there isn't always a tomorrow, is there?

We placate ourselves with a false hope that opportunities missed can always be made up for later, or good experiences re-experienced at some time in the future, comfortable in our perceived sense of immortality, and even if we don't get around to it that's okay because some all powerful imaginary being deems it so, and will make it up to us later. By not acknowledging our mortality we are short changing ourselves in life, and if we hold fast to a belief that there is a next life, and that it will be better than this one is, are we not then anticipating death? Religion is the greatest bullshit story we have ever thrust upon ourselves as a species. It actually causes some people to look forward to dying (to ignore their natural instinct) because when they do, they think they will go to a "better" place. A brilliant stratagem for relieving the fear of death. Too bad it's all bullshit.
We waste all kinds of time here with banal, worthless actions that amount to nothing more than time wasted doing something, because; "when we're done wasting all this time, our creator is going to give us the life he wasn't willing to give us in the first place."
The grass is always greener on the other side... isn't it?


So, what is more important; the quality of the trip or the value of the destination? I guess it depends on your mode of transportation. In life, we all have one ultimate destination. Death. Since I don't see any realistic way of improving the value of such a reward, I've decided to put more focus on improving the quality of the ride. Death is a part of life. It needs to be accepted as such so that we can be properly motivated and endeavor to improve the ride because, in the end, the ride is all that we really have.

I know that none of this is new, it's just how I'm feeling right now. I once heard a man say, "It's not that life is so short; it's just that death is so long." and that quote has been ringing in my head a lot recently.

Another update, sort of.

I feel like talking about me for a minute (imagine that) so I'm just gonna spew out some of what has been on my mind lately.

I love life! I really love it. I appreciate it more than I ever did before. Even the "bad stuff". I equate it to the old axiom "there is no such thing as bad press". Any time is a good time to be alive.
I have been given a gift. The gift of appreciation of life and all of it's various dynamics. It's all good. The passion that I notice in other people that I never noticed before, the passion that I am beginning to notice in myself that I had previously suppressed. I'm writing songs now. I was never able to do that before because I was always too self conscious about my own thoughts and creativity. I no longer have those restraints. In fact, I have come to the realization that if I feel the need to "get it out" than I had better do it now because soon it will be too late and my passion will pass, unfulfilled and unnoticed.
I have very few regrets, but one of them is that I allowed my musical creativity to be stifled for this long. I'm not an exceptional musician, I can "carry a tune" and it always sounds better when I'm drunk, but I truly love music. I love listening to it, I love imitating it, and now I love creating it. I used to hold back when it came to writing songs because I was worried that nobody would like them. Now I don't care. I do it anyway, just because it feels good.

Speaking of feels good; tomorrow I go for my first P.S.A. test since starting the hormone therapy. I'm not too worried about it because I feel so much better now, but, like any "test" there are standards which need to be met. If the drugs are working the way they're supposed to be than my levels will be at or near zero. If they are not, than that means the process is not working exactly as it should and my prognosis changes accordingly. Given that I am feeling so good right now I can't imagine that it would be very much one way or the other but because of my new found love for life it would really suck to lose any more time than I have already.

It's ironic actually.
In some ways the cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me, it's opened my eyes to a life that I previously took for granted, but now that I've come to cherish that life so much I feel an even greater sense of loss at the prospect of it ending anytime soon.

But, in the meantime, I'm still loving it. If I were to do otherwise, then I might as well already be dead.

The children

My kids...I love them.
In chronological order they are; Mike, Ryan, Alexandra, Aidan.

They are the grounding point that I have required in order to make it through all of this. They are the ones who offer me unconditional love at all times, irrespective of what kind of mood I might be in. They are quick to forgive, and eager to please. What more could someone want from another person? And I have four of them. It is the most amazing thing that I have found in this existence.
I witnessed all of their births (except Alexandra's, but that was logistically impossible so I don't worry about that too much, but I still wish for it) and they were, without question, the closest thing to a miracle that I have ever witnessed, each and every one of them. Equally, but in their own way. I continue to witness those miracles because they are still growing and changing (I hope they never stop) from infant to toddler, child to adolescent, and into adulthood. It's an astounding thing to watch a life form grow like that, particularly when they are your sires. [For those of you who don't have kids and don't get it: Eat chain! Go have some kids and then you will.] As with all living things, the stages of growth are so gradual that they sometimes go unnoticed, at least to the "familiar" eye, and then seem so sudden when they reach their apex that it can sometimes bring shock and awe. Which leads them into the next stage and then it starts all over again.

It's a never ending adventure for me.

Children are more entertaining than T.V. (and much more creative). They are always putting a new spin on things that we've been dealing with for so long that our perspectives have been jaded by our experience. Sometimes they are the teachers and I am the student. I learn something new from one of them everyday. Sometimes they teach me by simply reminding me of things that I've forgotten. Important things, like how to laugh and play; to have some fun and not be so serious all of the time. Sometimes I have to give the "Father" role a rest, and just be "Dad".
Those are good times, it is what makes life worth living, for me at least. I cherish every moment that I spend with each of them.
Even the rough ones.

Also, because they are "being raised" by me, they make all kinds of esoteric references that thoroughly entertain me but nobody else gives a rat's rectum about. I think that's why a lot people don't want to hear stories about "other peoples kids", it bores them to tears because they don't get the joke.
I love being able to get the joke, and am glad to have such able teachers.

I worry about not living long enough to see them all into adulthood (as do they) but I worry more about the quality of the experience that they are having with me right now, because the experiences that we are having now will eventually be their memories of me, and I want them to be good ones.

My children are my legacy. I don't want them "talking shit" about me after I'm gone.

My Parents.

My parents are proud of me.

I know this because they have told me so, and I believe it, because their actions have also told me so.
I believe it comes partially from the fact that I am "breaking with tradition" and doing it my way because they couldn't, because their parents would not allow it. (or should I say "condone" it, I'm not sure.) It's a testament to them because they are allowing ME to do it. (Okay, enough with all the"because's" already)

My parents have never forced me to do anything. What they did do was enforce the rules, (which were always negotiable) strictly, and fairly. They both have their own belief systems and ideas about how life should be lived, but neither one of them tried to impose it upon me, or indoctrinate me into what they "believed" I needed to "believe" in order to survive. [Although, my Father has tried to get me onto the "God" train, and I was even on it for a little while; but I don't begrudge him that because he gave me an early education in something I might otherwise not have sought out on my own until it was too late, and then felt compelled to believe in, because of the proximity that I found myself to my own demise.] (Sorry Dad.) They have led by example, living their lives the way they want to, irrespective of what the rest of the world might think. (including their parents)

But even my Father's attempts at "brainwashing" me began to abate after time, because he realized that I was forming my own ideas and opinions and he wanted me to explore them. He is still that way now, both of them are. (Although, my Mother never tried to "brainwash" me) We have grand and sometimes heated debates, but they always end with a smile and the knowledge that we still love each other because we are Family, and that's what Families do. They have allowed me to educate myself, but still always telling me what they think, so I can reap the benefits of their experience.
I have been able to pursue ALL of the things that ever interested me in life, without any fear of ever hearing the words, "you'll never be any good at that", or, "that's impossible". Because they have always tried to be good at "that" and still believe that anything is possible. It is what they are, and who they are, that has taught me that I can be anybody I want to be. They gave me a freedom that their parents never did. (although my Mum's Mum seems pretty cool, but what do I know, I wasn't there when she was young. lol) The freedom to figure it out for myself, always under their watchful and caring eyes, ready to jump in on a moments notice if it was required, but even then, only to help and guide, not to "take charge" and set things right. If I fucked up, I had to fix it, or I had to live with it. I created the problem, therefore, it was mine, and all they could do was offer advice on how they felt I could best resolve it, and they never passed judgement on whatever decision I ultimately came to, even if it went against the advice that they had given me. They simply accepted it, and we carried on with our lives.
It is brilliant parenting.
They have allowed me to grow, instead of trying to mold me.
If I ever do write a book before I die I think it should be based on their parenting skills. I believe a lot of Families could benefit by following their example.

I love you Mom and Dad. Thank you.

Impetuous rantings

I've been "working" on an entry for a few days now but I just can't seem to get it "right". Perhaps I'll finish it someday and post it. (or not) In the meantime I've had an interesting ride in the past few days so I'm just gonna spew it out and editing be damned.

I've discovered new love, re-discovered old love, and realized that right now my very existence is dependent on a couple of little pills that I have to take everyday, and if I don't, I will die.

The pill thing kinda freaks me out. I of course knew that the meds were keeping me alive, but I've been feeling so good that I seem to have forgotten it, until now. I forgot to take my pills (I think it was two days ago) and I could feel the difference. It wasn't drastic by any stretch of the imagination, but it was there and I felt it, and it scared me. It reminded me of just how fleeting life truly is (especially mine) and if I don't get up off my ass and start living it, before I know it, it will be gone! I can't believe that I forgot that so soon, just because I'm feeling better now.

The whole "love" thing brought it home for me as well, but at the same time also drew me into more inner conflict; I DON"T KNOW WHAT TO DO!! (or even what I CAN do) I'm a fucking mess. Maybe I'll write another "soap opera" post, that's bound to help. {rolleyes}

I guess what I'm getting at here is, I'm beginning to come to terms with my mortality and trying to decide what I actually want to do with what's left of my life. However, at the same time, I am observing how people who don't have similar time restraints waste so much of their lives with mundane nonsense that does nothing to improve the quality of their lives; it's just what they've always done, so they continue to do it.
It drives me nuts!!
It makes me want to shake them and say, "don't you realize we are all going to be dead soon and no one will care about that shit after we're gone, so why are you doing it?" But I can't do that, unless I feel like getting arrested and put into a lovely rubber room with people who are crocheting things that aren't there. Also, people don't like to be reminded that they will die someday. We like to walk around with our false sense of immortality and pretend like it's never going to end because it makes us feel better.
What bullshit!
I see a huge paradox here. This mindset is the fruit of religion, and the promise of eternal life, and yet, that institution and it's promises are borne from our natural fear of death. How the fuck do we fix that?

I guess if I had the answer to that question I'd have my own religion, wouldn't I?

I'm staring death in the face and I have no fear. But I am still afraid of what I might miss, so I guess I'm scared.

Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance.

Spring, apparently, has sprung.

Yesterday, with the sun in my eyes and the aromas of spring in my nose, I ventured to my garage with the intention of taking my noble steed for a much needed, and much anticipated, excursion into the wild blue yonder. (Okay, maybe it's neither wild or blue, but it is yonder. Work with me here.) I cherish the time that I am able to spend on my bike. It is like an oasis of peace amidst the madness. No radio, no cell phone, no conversation; no distractions. Just me, the road, and my thoughts. It can be very cathartic, and enlightening. However, I need to somehow determine a way to incorporate a pen and paper so I can take notes. I once figured out how to solve all the worlds problems while I was on a ride, it was a brilliant moment of clarity. Unfortunately, by the time I had reached my destination I had forgotten what it was. Go figure?

So out I go, after donning the appropriate apparel for such an adventure, perform a diligent post winter circle check (fluids, tires, lights etc.) and satisfied that all is in order, I straddle the beast, prepared to experience the thrill I have come to associate with that first start up of the year, and then....NOTHING! Dead battery! Arrgh!!

After quelling the urge to destroy some nearby inanimate object (luckily, there wasn't anything within reach), logic kicks in and I begin the necessary steps to remove the cursed cell from my otherwise healthy ride, with the hope of replacing it with a fresh and willing power source this evening, inspiring me. Unfortunately, I was told that the replacement I so desperately needed would require charging out of the box, therefore I couldn't have it until tomorrow! Shouldering my disappointment, I trudged back into my house (back to the distractions) in order apply a nice emotional salve to my feelings of despair over a good ride lost, and look forward to the next day when I could begin the adventure all over again with a more positive result.

That day was today.

It was a good ride.

As the world turns...

If you're a fan of soap operas then you might be interested in this post.
If you're not, then don't even bother reading it. It's just some of the struggles that I am currently going through right now in regards to my social life.

I was recently contacted by a friend from the past, a female friend, who has expressed a long held romantic interest in me, and the feeling is mutual, but I am hesitant to become involved with her even though I really want to, and I know it would be good for me. I'm just not so sure how good it would be for her.

Given my current circumstances, I'm not even sure that I ever want to (or should) become seriously involved with a woman again. I am lonely, and I do like her, but I mean really, when I think about it, it doesn't seem right to nurture the love of a woman, knowing that I'm only here for "a good time, not a long time". I may feel good right now, better than I have in 2 or 3 years, but I am still not the man I was 3 years ago and likely never will be again. I still have cancer and I am still going to die, probably within the next 10 years. Yes, I am fighting strong and well, and I remain steadfast in my belief that there is a possibility that I can fight this through the natural course of my life and live to a decent age before finally succumbing to the cancer (or something else. Maybe someone will kill me because they are sick of listening to me; >"Die already, you wordy bastard!!"< ), but I am also a realist. I cannot ignore the statistics, or my Doctors' experience with other cancer patients. (Or the image that I now see in the mirror, I've noticed some changes, and they're not good ones.) I'd like to think that somehow I'm special, (in one way I am, terminal prostate cancer at 40, woohoo! lucky me!) that it can be different for me, but the reality is, I'm just another human, just another number, and in the end there is only so much that I can do for myself, and since I don't believe in a God any more, I'm not expecting a miracle any time soon. So, would it be fair of me to put someone through that kind of inevitable emotional pain just so that I can spend the few remaining years of my life with a companion and not alone? Wouldn't that be selfish? Isn't that why I gave my former girlfriend the option of leaving, because I didn't want to do that to her? Why would I want to do it to somebody else? These are just some of the questions that I am currently struggling with. I don't want to die alone and I can't imagine that there are very many women who would even want to put themselves into this position, yet this fine lady claims that she is approaching the situation with her eyes open, fully aware of what to expect and how it will most likely end up if we make it a long term attachment. Even still, does that make it alright?
I know that, for me, if I was involved in a serious romantic relationship with someone who developed a terminal illness I would never leave them, (at least, not for that, perhaps something else?) but if I met a woman who told me that she currently has cancer, or if someone I liked from the past, but was never linked to romantically, developed it, that I would be very hesitant to get close to her in a romantic or loving way. [ It's a self preservation thing, we all have our fair share of having to bury our loved ones over the course of our lives, why walk into a situation where we know that it's imminent in the near future?] Why should I expect someone else to make a sacrifice like that when I'm almost positive that I would not do the same for them? It makes me feel like I'd be taking advantage of her in some way.

I'm not sure what to do at this point, but I know what I'm not going to do; make any impetuous decisions.

I have lots of pondering ahead of me.
(If you're not a fan of soap operas and you read this far? I warned you.)

Right now...

...I got nothing.
Everything is going far too well.
Try again later.
Have a great day.
I did.

My cancer research

I have been trying to refine my diagnosis a little bit, to narrow it down to a specific kind of cancer so that I can then determine the best course of action, as far as fighting it, that is specific to me, my biological make up and my current physical condition. It is challenging, to say the least.

I have learned that cancer is heterogeneous, not just in it's interaction with the individual but also in general. My cancer, if observed under a microscope next to another person's, would exhibit certain characteristics specific to me, which means I own it, and as far as I am concerned, if I own it; I can control it. The diagnosis is done through pattern recognition (microscopic observation) not molecular testing. That testing is generally reserved for researchers who are trying to understand cancer as an entity of itself in an attempt to learn how to precisely diagnose it by cause rather than by anatomic location or physical symptoms. I've been reading a lot and asking a lot of questions and I think that I've learned that cancer is the interaction of a cell that is no longer under growth control with it's environment, like the weeds on your lawn, it's similar to the grass, but not the same, and chokes out the healthy growth around it. I listened to a lecture given by a cancer Doctor recently and in it he said; "change the soil and you affect the growth". That statement, along with others, has stuck with me.

Holy shit, I've been reading too much, I am a wordy fuck.

Anyway, I think the point I'm trying to make here is that I have not given up. I am actively seeking positive action which will create positive results. The whole "imminent death" thing has been weighing on my mind quite a bit recently and I've been fighting it in many different ways, one of which is by researching the actionable possibilities for my continued existence on this planet. I am still having a difficult time kicking cigarettes but it will come, and I'm not convinced that in the short term it really matters, although that is part of "changing the soil", as long as I quit them soon. I have made other changes though, with my diet, taking supplements, sleep (still blissful, I may never take it for granted again) and exercise. I believe that I am getting closer to finding the "secret formula" that will work for me, to extend my life for as long as possible.

I am optimistic about, and looking forward to, the future; particularly this spring and summer. I plan on touching base with friends and Family whom I've been neglecting, or at least I feel I have anyway, and I look forward to rectifying that situation.

A new beginning

Wow! I can sleep again! It's glorious! I haven't been allowed to sleep like this for months! I've been in my pajamas all weekend, pain free without the use of meds for the first time in a long time, and catching up on my dreams. It's good to dream again. I've actually been off of the pain meds for several days and the feeling of recovery has been growing for even longer than that, but it is only just now starting to "sink in". I've been fearful of disappointment.

The hormone therapy seems to be working just as it should, it has given me my life back. I don't know how long that is going to be, but realistically is there any way of knowing how long any of us have? Yes, I have been given an accelerated time frame in that regard but right now that only serves to strengthen my resolve and inspire me to get back to the business of living, and now that I have been given the ability to do that, through this treatment, I can't wait to get started! I may be living on borrowed time but at least I am living, and I plan on paying it forward instead of back.

I am going to continue to spread the word of my story to any one who will listen with the hope that it will help prevent this cancer from occurring in as many men as possible. Beyond that, I am also looking forward to becoming involved with a charitable organization that not only raises awareness but also helps people like me cover the cost of the hormone treatment. The needles required every three months cost $1400.00 each and the daily pills cost $425.00 for three months worth, over $7000.00 annually. Without a good drug plan that can be a huge hit for a lot of people and if it can do for someone else what it's doing for me than I want to help to make it available to as many people as possible. If I can't find an organization that I can "piggyback" onto, one that does what I see needs doing, then I will start my own, something that I'm familiar with, a charitable annual motorcycle ride.

In the meantime, I'm going back to work (modified duties and schedule, I'm not going to rush it) and begin to rebuild my social life by finding someone to share it with me (modified duties and schedule, I'm not going to rush it).

I will continue to post here, although I'm not sure what I will say. However, I have been told, on occasion, that I can be quite verbose so I'm sure I'll think of something.

Why? vs How?

When someone is diagnosed with a fatal or potentially fatal disease, especially if that person is considered to be "too young for that sort of thing",(which is bullshit, age is irrelevant, I'm proof of that, and many others like me) whether it be something common like cancer or rare like Descending Mediastinitis (my cousin is a survivor of this awful affliction), inevitably the question is asked by victim, friends and Family alike; why? Why, indeed.

Why, is an unfair and frustrating question because it can never be answered with any degree of certainty. The ecclesiastical implications of the question require a certain amount of faith that some people (myself included) just can't muster and in the end there is still no true answer to the question, just a feeling of acceptance towards a situation that we think we have no control over but if we truly had the courage to face the situation on a level that would require us to grasp the reality of it all, we would find that we have more control than we might think. Which is why I think, when faced with something as important as our own mortality, "how" is the better question to pursue.

Why does a 41 year old man get prostate cancer? I don't know. How does it happen, and how could he have prevented it from reaching a stage where it becomes incurable? For that there are some answers, and some is better than none at all.

At first I believed that I had some genetic predisposition for this cancer, which may still be true as evidenced by the age that it chose to present itself to me, but I have done quite a bit of research into this subject and I've discovered some pretty startling things. The one that surprised me the most is the fact that when it comes to prostate cancer the question is not IF it will develop, but WHEN. That is how the human body works, if you're a man and you live long enough that something else doesn't kill you first, you will develop this cancer. For some men it might take a hundred years, for others only forty, but it WILL happen. (How come they don't say THAT in the fucking commercials?) The only variable that separates us is when it will happen, and that is why it is so important to get checked for it on a regular basis!

I know it sounds a little like I'm beating a dead horse here but right now I'm a feeling pissed off! Thus far the hormone therapy is working very well for me, I feel better now than I have for months, almost no pain, I have been sleeping better, I'm even going back to work next week. I feel almost normal. (whatever that is) But for how long? Five, maybe ten years? Maybe not even that long. Because of what? Because I never got checked. As a result of the length of time that my cancer was allowed to grow and the extent of that growth, my Doctors can't even tell me how long I might have! I'm being forced to squeeze an awful lot of life, and living, into a very short period of time and it fucking sucks!

I'm an average working class guy. I love life, it can be a lot of fun. Being working class though can sometimes be an impediment when it comes to the amount of "life" time that I am able to enjoy. Don't get me wrong, I like my job, but even on the really good days I can always think of one or two hundred things that I would rather be doing, so when my free time comes I don't like to think about things like going to see a Doctor, even if I'm not feeling well I prefer to just ride it out while doing something more enjoyable. I would much rather be out cruising the highways on two wheels than be in some sterile room with a man poking me in places of my body that I'm not even comfortable with touching myself. (Maybe if it's a woman...) That attitude can work for a long time, for a lot of people, but at what cost? Sure, we're all gonna die someday but why not try to stick around for as long as possible? We could miss out on some pretty good shit.

Don't let your lifestyle or your fear of a lubricated finger up the wazoo (or your faith in an invisible man to protect from such a fate) prevent you from acting on the advice of others or the feeling in your gut.

Focus on the how and do something about it. Then you won't have to ask why.

Procedures part II

I believe that there is a general consensus among heterosexual men that anal intrusion of any kind is something to be avoided at all costs. There are exceptions to this rule of course, as there are to all things, and to those exceptional men I say this; lucky for you. You shouldn't have as much of a problem in dealing with some of the required tests and preparations involved in order to satisfy the best interest of your continued health. I, however, count myself as one of those men who considers my rectum (damn near killed him) to be a one way street used exclusively as an exit, which makes my adventure somewhat problematic since I have recently learned that, much to my dismay, this is not the case.

That being said, the prostate biopsy, as intrusive as it is, is the most important test to have because it gives the Doctors physical and conclusive evidence as to whether or not cancer exists in your prostate. Without it, its just a guessing game, and you don't want to be guessing. The sooner you can confirm cancer, the sooner you can begin treatment, the longer you will live; it's that simple.

There are some things that you need to do in order to prepare for the blessed event. First, if you happen to be on any medication that has a blood thinner in it you have to stop taking it tens days before the procedure. This is to help prevent excessive bleeding from the prostate after the samples have been taken. After all, it's not like you can put a "band-aid" on it. If, like me, that medication is preventing some kind of pain that you have been going through, well, sorry about your luck kid, you're going to feel some hurt. Then there's antibiotics, three of the LARGEST pills that I have ever seen in my life (holy horse pills batman). These are to prevent infection. One taken the day before, one the morning of and one the following day. You can't eat for twelve hours before and, of course, there is the enema which needs to be done two hours before the surgery. Did I mention the enema?

I've never had an enema, didn't know the first thing about it, and they ask you to do it yourself in the morning. So I buy this thing a couple of days in advance and I'm looking at the instructions for self administration and the recommended positions for best effect and I'm thinking, "how the hell am I gonna do this?" Remember, I was forced off of my meds so at this point I'm half a cripple, simply walking is a chore, and these people want me to lay on my back with my legs in the air, stick a tube up my ass and squeeze a bottle of some oily liquid through it until it's almost gone? I found the prospect...daunting, to say the least. I have to give props to my Brother at this point, who, upon hearing about this, offered to administer it for me. I thanked him kindly but had to respectfully decline his offer. There was no way I was going to make him do that, much, I think, to his relief. The sentiment, however, was much appreciated.

What follows is what many people might consider as being TMI (too much information) but in hindsight I think it was funny so I'm going to share it.

So the day arrives. My appointment was for 8:00am which means I have to try to pull this stunt off at 6:00 in the morning. I hobble into my bathroom, place a towel on the floor which I lay down on and proceed to follow the directions on the box. The part you insert and the bottle are one unit, much like a bottle of glue except the nozzle on top is longer, like a tube. I had to reach around the side of my elevated leg with my right hand so I could squeeze the bottle. It started out well enough, I managed to get the tube inserted but when I tried to squeeze the bottle I found that because of the awkward position I was in I couldn't get enough power behind it to make anything come out, so I reached down between my legs with my other hand in order to assist. That worked and I was able to nearly empty the bottle, as per the instructions, but then a nightmare occurred, I cramped up! I couldn't bring my legs down! So there I was, laying naked on my bathroom floor, legs akimbo, with an empty enema bottle stuck up my ass, unable to move! Quite a predicament. My Father, who was to drive me to my appointment, was waiting for me downstairs. I considered calling him for help but decided that I didn't want to curse him with having to live with the image of me in this rather compromising position for the rest of his life, so, with great effort and a decent amount of pain, I managed to roll sideways and bring myself to all fours thereby allowing me to stretch out the cramp and bringing this rather unpleasant, but humorous in hindsight, endeavor to an end.

Now off to the hospital. Once again I'm lead into the room, this time by two nurses (yeehaw, a threesome, but once again, wrong story). They lay me on my left side, one is explaining the procedure to me and getting me to sign indemnity forms, the other is preparing me for the Doctor by sticking the scope into the area of my body that was formerly used as an exit exclusively but now seems to be getting an awful lot of two way traffic (there's never a cop around when you need one) and getting it lined up for the biopsy. I never actually saw the scope but it felt like it was bigger than the enema tube but smaller than a finger. She was digging around, it brought the sensation of someone playing with a pencil in my ass. The Doctor arrives and begins by giving me freezing in my prostate, much like a dentist's needle. The sensation from the needle traveled through my prostate and right up to the tip of my "wee man", it was a little shocking. I'm not sure how well it worked because I felt everything. The biopsy itself is done by poking with a needle that pops out of the scope and takes small pieces of tissue when it retracts. It sounded and felt like being shocked with an electric BBQ starter, not very painful but certainly not pleasant. He took 14 samples. The whole thing lasted about 15 or 20 minutes.

They told me to anticipate blood in my urine for the next couple of days, and blood in my semen for a couple of weeks. It didn't last that long for either, but it was there.

I've already written about the results. I hope that this story helps to give anyone who may have to go through this some peace of mind. It wasn't as horrible as you may imagine it to be in your head. I'm a total wimp when it comes to stuff like this and I got through it, so if I did it, anybody can.