Soap Box 2 "Smokin' Hot Viking Babe"

Got your breath back boyos? 

I’m sure you do as the first part of my soap box post was fairly benign.  Whoa a pun!  What did we learn?  We learned that a PSA test is a painless blood test.  We learned that the annual hopeful slender finger intrusion is uncomfortable but only sixty seconds uncomfortable at the most.

So for those of you guys that got it from reading part one of this blog, read no further.  You don’t have to.  You get it and I suspect you’ve made an appointment.

This installment is for you middle guys that don’t get it and for the women who know her guy doesn’t get it. 

Why the cocky attitude?  Read on and remember; at our age, caught this late boys this disease is the number two killer of men in the U.S.

So once a Doc says you might have cancer they refer you.  For prostate cancer they refer you to both an Urologist and a Oncologist.  

 My personal doctor [pcp] was right on with referring me to an amazingly talented oncologist. Later, I can't figure out how, I ended up with WORLD CLASS Cancer care.  Amazing.  Sorry I digress.

I had no idea what my doc meant when he said “the urologist I’m referring you to, well his bed side manner needs some work”.  I was later to learn he was referring to Dr. Doom.

Whirl Wind!  I don’t care how adaptable you are the word "cancer" enters the conversation and your brain turns to twirling oat meal.   

A day after I’m told 2640 PSA and a week before my first oncology visit I’m in Dr. Doom’s office for a Digital Exam.  For you guys that don’t remember part one of this blog segment,  digital means toes or fingers. Hopefully your Urologist will use his/her fingers.

My wife is with me that day that I was supposed to have a biopsy.  We were called into Dr. Doom’s office and I immediately learned from the world renown Dr. Doom, that I would die in the clinics parking lot in five minutes, shouldn’t snow ski, [never have] or fly.  I nodded like a dumb ass puppy and said “yep, ok”.

Doctor Doom was affirmed later my chemo nurses and research folk  that knew him

He asked some other questions and found out part of my medical regime involved aspirin. Dumb ass me all these years I thought I was in danger of heart attack.  That made me a bleeder and he couldn’t do the biopsy that day.  

Looking forward from that moment, glad he made that call. [Remember why you are reading this…your reading this because you can’t stand 60 seconds of digital examination].  But he could do that day a  “Digital Exam”.

Wifeless I go into the room.  In retrospect I laugh about that.  I didn’t want her to see what he, or I thought he, was going to do to me.  Thankfully she, my wife let me cling to her and scream the next week while Dr. Doom did the biopsy. [Clueless guy I will write about that i you really need it].

I think that most men feel that “the finger” is humiliating.  Sorry no.  I do know it is uncomfortable for me and many of you.  Here’s your choice:

I walked into an examine room filled with hoses and long things.  Standing in the room was a smokin’ hot Scandinavian beauty in a white smock holding her hand out and introducing herself to me, the new non-confirmed prostate cancer patient.

I smile sheepishly not knowing why this woman was there, with me, waiting to watch [I hoped not] a soon to retire Doc stick his finger up my prostates neighbor. Her reply to my tacit question questioning look was, “I’m shadowing Dr. SoandSo [Doom to us].  No way not going to happen!

 

Dr. Doom says drop your “slacks”, they were jeans [that's how old he is], and put your elbows on the exam table.  All the while Viking goddess watching.

Things went as you  may expect but more humiliating because this Blonde Valkyrie was watching intently Dr. Doom's every...well what ever all the while being more thorough because of Anya and the fact I'm probably  sick.   

Doom reminded me to keep my elbows on the exam table as it is more relaxing, relaxing?  My jeans and underwear were a puddle around my ankles.  Anya’ was looking on with medical interest  Dr. Doom gets done with me.

Annual sixty seconds of uncomfortable?  Sixty lousy seconds?.  That's all it takes to avoid!    Can you guess what happened to me next?

I reach down to pull my jeans and underwear back up to the waist line they help support. The Nordic goddess touches my shoulder, tenderly I might add, and says “I’m learning about this disease may I?”

Annually take the sixty seconds boys.  If you don’t I’ll make you read about the biopsy that followed a week later.  You don’t want to know anything about a prostate biopsy and I hope and pray you never have to.

On second thought...Studs...I dare you to read tomorrow’s post.

Talk to you later

Soap Box 1 "The Hopefully Slender Finger"

Something was said to me the other day that was so stupendously ignorant I was left  with my jaw agape.  Stupid you can’t do anything about but you can fix ignorance with information.  It dawned on me; it is possible there are other men out there that are also misinformed.  That thought, coupled with the fact I’ve never quite described how I got here prompts me to climb up on my soap box. 

Medicine says that every man that lives long enough will end up with some level of prostate cancer.  Most men with prostate cancer die of something else.  Something else basically called old age.  Rarely does prostate cancer sneak in on a man fifty or younger [I’m one on the very edge of the bell curve].  Though, if there is a history of prostate cancer in your family then testing is recommended before you turn fifty.  My son will need to start being tested well, well, before he is fifty. 

Wait.  Wait.  Don’t breathe that sigh of relief just yet.  Prostate cancer is the number two killer of men in this country.  Look it up.

I was diagnosed with prostate cancer August 4^th 2009.  The mounting pain in my back was treated by specialists and acupuncture for a year prior to diagnosis as a back injury.  I was tested, treated with steroids, steroid injections on and on.  “They” couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me and at one point my original Dr. apologized because she wanted to cover all the bases so she had to let her finger get up close and personal with my prostate.  Only one way to do that. I can hear all you guys cringing.  I say this to you guys…thirty seconds of uncomfortable beats the crap out of the serious, serious, uncomfortable.

One day getting up from my desk at work the pain literally made me whimper, moan and pretty sure I screamed and prompted me to make yet another appointment.  Thankfully a bizarre thing happened my doctor was “no longer with the clinic.”  I didn’t really think about that statement at the time and painfully said “give me whoever you have”.Whoever they had saved my life.

Well he certainly prolonged my life to be sure.  I went in to see the new guy late that morning.  Doc ordered up xrays and blood test which included PSA.  Even to my eyes the Xray was a nada.  Off my wife and I went for the 30 minute drive back to the house.  Phone rings about the time we get to the house and it’s the Doc’s nurse asking if I can come back in that afternoon.  Crap that’s not good is it guys? 

I remember the precise time because I was looking at his computer screen and could see his watch at the same time while he said “right here is your PSA and it is an indicator that you might possibly have prostate cancer.  Normal is 1 to 5.  You can see yours is 2640. [yep two thousand six hundred and forty]  I remember feeling sorry for the now my Doc having to give that information.

That is how it started.  Yep I know you guys are grinning and thinking this will never happen to you.  I didn’t even know it could happen to me.  I had had a Dr. check me digitally and no that doesn’t mean with a camera.  Your fingers and toes are considered digits fortunately she used a finger.  A toe would be a bit odd.   I assumed, my bad never assume in your medical world, a PSA had been run but truth be told…blindsided completely blindsided.  Add to all that…I wasn’t old enough I had just turned fifty one by a few days.

So what have we learned so far?  PSA is a simple blood test.  You don't like needles buck up and take someone with you to hold your hand.  A simple blood test covered by most insurance I’m guessing.  Digital Exam is that uncomfortable feeling of having a hopefully slender finger stuck up your only orifice close to your prostate.  By the way, how long does that take?  How long are you uncomfortable?  Well if you have a normal Doc 60 seconds.  If it takes longer than that, get a new Doc.

Could be worse guys, I know when a women does her yearly visit to her gynecologist, she’s uncomfortable for way more than sixty seconds [Wait.  Dumb ass you didn't know that?]  Guys, trust me, your wife or girl friend are in [no pun] with their OBGYN for a lot longer than the “finger” is in you.

Knowing that we men have short attention spans I will split this post.  Tomorrow I will describe in bloody detail the alternative to not cowboying up for your annual physical and PSA.  

 Put those elbows on the exam table, and suffer the “finger.”  The alternative to that 60 seconds and a simple blood test suck and in my case the alternative for humiliation  involved a smoking hot Norwegian blonde and blood.  Christ, talk about humiliation. 

Next post “At the Urologist With Dr. Doom and Anya The Smokin’ Hot Skanda”.

Talk to you later

Road Trip Forgiveness

I awoke to the raucous call of an irritated Stellar’s Bluejay [sp] looking for the day’s peanuts that are usually left on the deck by earlier risers then I and the Amazonian jungle sounding Pileated Woodpeckers.  Running inventory over my aches and pains I discovered I was none the less the wear from forest roaming axe wielding psychotics [see previous road trip post].

I aimed my sleep blurred eyes out the “glass wall” and though sunshine comes late to the deep canyon floor I could tell the day was set up to be astounding.  Like a teenager on his first, well, I looked forward to the day with anticipation.  To be sure, the place felt very empty with just me in it but, like a teenager on his first, well, I looked forward to the day with anticipation.

Taking my morning meds briefly reminded me of my illness but I shrugged that thought off as I pulled on my jeans.  I was feeling good and it was clean good because the meds hadn’t muddied my mind.  I decided to make the quarter mile stroll down to the bridge that crosses the confluence of the river the cabin sits on and a slightly larger one that passes by to the west in a rush to the ocean.  Make the stroll without my cane.  Later and a torn Meniscus later I would realize medical aids, no matter how injurious to one’s pride, should not be shunned in a rush of feeling well. [Hell a few days ago I got a handicapped parking permit]

The bridge is at the canyons mouth so the morning sunlight fell with long soon to be autumn shadows.  The bridge is Forest Service issue and as I sat in the middle on a convenient pedestrian walk area I was filled overwhelmingly with anticipation of the day.  Here, on at least three versions of this bridge, I had cried, sang drunken Jerry Jeff Walker songs with friends, watched otters be the silly happy things they always seem to be, watched for falling stars and this time never ever once thought of being sick.  After sitting and soaking up the space and slightly thinking I missed something I wandered back to the cabin for lunch.

I lay on the sofa and as is inevitable on a weekend I fell asleep.  I regret sleeping through my weekends.   But, sometimes at the end of the week this bastard that is my disease makes me.  I hate it.  Apparently this time I had slept long enough because my wife showed up in a dream, kissed me and I awoke. It must have been important to her as she always lets me sleep.  She was right once again.  I really shouldn’t waste my time up here sleeping.

Why was I here?  Simple and complicated.   

The day continued to be beyond glorious.  I sat on the river beach for quite some time and watched the river flow by dragging my thoughts thirty five years back and forth and every where in between.  I wondered how many of my memories had drifted down that river and took place by that river, incredible it was.  

 I went for a walk through waste high meadow grass without my cane….oops Xray and MRI damn log [see above pic]. 

Each and every step I took was as if I was walking through, with or around my life that was.  It was glorious and scary as hell.

Later, in front of the cabin sitting out by the river I started to really think about the past.  There’s a reason why monks go on hermetical sojourns.  Being alone clears the mind and lets the rest of the mind come to the forefront.  I hadn’t been alone alone for a long time.  Word of warning.  Unless you are a saint [and I suspect even they fall prey] and you aren't used to introspective alone time you need to hang on and be prepared. 

The ghosts of the first night were a pleasant diversion.  A smile, a tear, a smirk, a laugh, all good and I made it through the second night with the same ghosts.   But, on this night, I sat in thought and picked at old wounds with nothing but thoughts surrounding.  Do this and you need to be prepared to be kicked to the floor.  I forgot about that part.  Next time I won’t

For the first time in more than 24 months my thoughts were not about my disease.  My thoughts were about those in my life and those who were no longer with me.  My thoughts turned to how do I ask forgiveness especially if those I need forgiveness from are gone.  In some cases how do I forgive? 

I’ve lived an incredible life and plan on continuing to do that and in that place, that place that is my spiritual haven I started to realize that I had quit living.  Lately my only purpose was to “manage” my quality of life or just forget. 

While that realization didn’t resolve forgiveness issues and memories pooling on the cabin floor like inky blood or heal the scars I opened that would later take five days [and nights] to close up.  Not heal.  Close up.  The realization did make me want to heal those scars.  Figure out the forgiveness thing. 

Add to that just because you’re told you are sick and they can’t fix you doesn’t mean you can quit living.  There are people you know, people who love you, others you don’t even know that care and people who need and want you to live.  Need you to forgive yourself.  More importantly there are those who want to forgive you.

I left very early Sunday with, I was to find out later, my T-shirt inside out.  Yep.  You guessed it.  I hadn't learned not to wonder, as I locked the gate, if I would ever see the place again.  Babysteps.

I left so early there was no traffic as I traveled down the Tumwater which was filled with tendrils of now contained forest fire smoke and the tang of same.  I made it to where my wife was in record time.

Three oddities of the return trip:  My willingness to start living again.  Due to open scars the feeling I’d break into tears at any moment.  Oddest of all, every few miles a Raven alongside the road watched my passage not my totem Crow.  What’s up with that?

Talk to you later

…tomorrow I get on my soapbox and you men “ain’t gonna like it”

A Heart Felt Thanks

For those of you awaiting the last installment of "Road Trip" if all goes well I'll have it finished tonight.

 More importantly, when I asked you if you had room in your thoughts and prayers for my friend who was going through chemo, had a double M, and now is headed for radiation, you obviously came through with flying colors.  She is doing very well and though she doesn't know a lot of you she gave you all a heart felt thank you.

I too give you a heart felt thank you.

Talk to you later.

Road Trip The Arrival

I pulled into the only open spot of the property.  Property  that has otherwise and rightfully been left wild.  Thanks to Mom, no leaf blowers and weed whackers here.  Much to the dismay of the human neighbors, she knows we are leaving a footprint but wants the footprint to be as small as possible.  For almost four decades I’ve never cared what the human neighbors thought and I think they are finally starting to get that.

It was cat’s light.  That magic time between dusk and twilight.  That, anything goes time of day, when you just might see the stray elf or pixie.   Before I had my second foot down on the ground a brush crashing non human neighbor, a doe, came bounding by startling me.  At that moment it seemed the only magic this evening was going to be how to clean my underwear with no washing machine.

As I mentioned previously turning the water on was a boring adventure.  Finally, while holding a flash light in my mouth the luke warm beam of light allowed the universe to come together and long metal tool grabbed small metal valve and there was water.  Note to self, flashlight batteries.

Water on, hot water heater on, electric on and all my stuff inside I started to unload my ice chest.  It was still very odd to be here by myself until I started to get the feeling I wasn’t here by myself.  The cabin is an old a frame and because of the incredible view of river and mountain the entire front wall is glass.  Beyond the glass is a little deck perhaps eight foot wide and three steps leading down to the little path that gets you to the river. 

Loading the refrigerator means my back is facing that wall of glass.  Glass that anything can get through including the psychotic axe murders I’ve never seen but to this day I’m positive roam the woods intent on doing me harm.  Knowing one of these miscreants was poised and ready to break through the glass I turned and…saw a young buck standing at the steps staring at me surely wondering what I was doing.  We stood staring at each other for minutes.  It was truly a Carlos Castaneda moment sans the peyote.  Apparently, staring at him bored him to tears and the buck turned and walked off, well sauntered actually.

I did the mundane things one does in the evening later finding myself reading at a little table large enough for two but tonight only full by half.  The table is a favorite spot of mine as it sits close enough to the window you could be as close to outside possible when you had to be inside.

I looked up from my book contemplating the coming day with excited anticipation while filled with trepidation of the night in front of me.  That’s when the ghosts showed up.

Alive and passed they all showed up.  Not all at once of course.  Though the cabin isn’t petite there is no way it could hold five generations of memories at once.  Much of my life has happened in this place and very few times was there sadness in this place.  To be sure there were times when the occupants might have had a strained relationship, a sad memory of sometime else someplace else but for most of the countless hours the cabin protected its inhabitants they were happy hours.

I count myself fortunate beyond belief to have this place to come to.  Even though, for the last twenty five months, I can’t help but think each time I leave if I’ll ever be back.  I’m trying to teach myself not to think like that.  A skill I haven’t quite achieved but work at diligently.  But even with that thought, and the axe murders roaming the forest intent on my harm the space put me at peace as it always does

So I sat and let the ghosts roam about until my eyes grew heavy.  I left them on their own and wandered off to bed.  I was looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.

A Tale From The Road a Few Hours Later

I’m  Barbarian when it comes to AC in an automobile.  Ride with me in an Eastern Washington heat wave and you’ve better pray to your Gods that the ambient temp goes above 103°.  If the temp doesn’t then you will live with at a minimum the 480 AC and in the right place at the right time you may enjoy the 490 AC.  Could be worse I drive a mini club cab “pickyup”.  Used to be my rig only had two windows. That reduces cooling capacity vastly.  Go ahead and call me on it.  I actually have the math skills to tell you it reduces the cooling by half.

The fact is, at this point, I’m running through some of the most beautiful Kittitas Valley land filled with scent fresh mown and baled Cowboy bales.  Once more,  I’m belly laughing and hanging on not only to the visual but the scent.  All of that has officially sealed my fate.  I’m trapped in my road trip.  Sealed into an envelope no one sealed.  No one mailed.  Someone kindly left open so I could peek out as I headed toward my destination. 

The cool thing about not using the AC  is when you hit the summer mountains. Every scent comes rushing in at 80 mph then  caress’s  your face.  At that moment you know road trip is on and every scent jacks your library of memories.  Yup that’s a pine scented stockyard.  Yup that’s a spruce scented stream, that’s the scent of a stream trying to hang on until next.   Aspen trying to hide the odour of the hill laboring RV in front of you.  Heady, and very heavy at all that August meadow blanket  with... 

I wound down, around and up.  Left, right, starboard and port round and round. As the sun started to Wester odd things began to happen as they always do during that time in the approaching the cats night that makes all nervous.

I pass under an overpass and way way out of the way and spy five planes, each on a train car, destined to Boeing West all wrapped in green something.  Just in case there was someone in the wingless planes the person that had wrapped the Liners made sure anyone would have a view out.  Each plane happily headed West clinking and clanking and the ghosts that one worker guy spent hours cutting the green stuff off each window so they who were flying the wingless train could blindly view the switchback that is the method to get into this valley. 

I dropped into a valley lit the light of the Westering sun.  About the time that was light enough for the young to read  but for those of us with glasses meant turning on the reading lamp.

So carefully I drove the stretch that is Beaver Creek Valley where old eyes need help.  As I passed these rural abodes wondering about what was happening. 

That house had a family that wondered how they were going to make their mortgage payment.  On the other side of the road Grandma was sick and husband had to cook his own dinner because his wife was sitting in a hospital fifty miles away.  The husband discovered being on your own wasn’t very cool.

Yikes, that house without the porch light was filled with an angry angry man that drinks himself asleep starting about noon.

Then there was the home in happy but fearful frenzy as they prepared for their daughter departure clear across the state five hours away from meeting her destiny as a freshman.  Parents were hoping beyond hope the home town boyfriend wouldn’t have the last say.

So the miles went by.  I was close to the cabin and filled with overwhelming anticipation.  I could tell by the long shadows from the sun sliding in orange behind the peaks I would be turning the water on at the cabin by brail.  Crap, even in full sunlight turning the water on with the “tool” was/is a lot like dousing for water with a Willow Y.

Wow.  I guess this is a longer story than anyone wants to hear.  Guess what!  I’m going to add something, that is hopefully more exciting tomorrow.

Talk to you tomorrow

Tales From A Road

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long.  I really did and do intend to write at least once a week but sometimes, I’ve found out here in last couple of years,  life just has other plans.  But now, I find myself sitting in a beautiful garden blanketed in the sweet smell of Jasmine and thinking I might actually have a thought or two I can put down on “paper”.  You see.  I did something I hadn’t done for probably thirty years [no, not that], I went on a road trip.  Yep.  Just a story about a road trip…get out your “ho-hum.”

For those of you that know me you are thinking, “Thirty years that’s impossible.”  OK, but twenty years isn’t stretching it especially when I’m using the definition of "utterly by myself."  Not working, not on a vendor junket, not at a trade show, not doing the daily commutes, but by myself and I have to tell you at first it kinda’ freaked me out.

As I was getting ready to leave, where my wife would be visiting while I was gone, her folks house, I was as fidgety as a whore in church [never could figure out why whores supposedly can’t believe in God thus being nervous in church].  Noticeably and it was noticed.  How could this nervousness be?  Especially in a man who has been told more than once he walks like he owns the world.  Admittedly now, walking with a cane has leeched some of that aura from the impression.  None the less, sick or not, I still have an arrogant amount of self confidence left so this nervousness made no sense.  And with trepidation that’s what I did, I left.

I have been poked and prodded.  I have blindly joined research trials.  I suffered through the especially incredible humiliation of a prostate biopsy performed by Dr. Doom [for you guys that read this I will be all telling about a prostate biopsy in a future blog and you are not going to like it] himself while he was accompanied by the beautiful blonde urologist trainee Anna who asked me if she could feel too.  Radiation,  chemo,  dark nights.  The list is stupidly long and I was heading off to my favorite place but heading off full of trepidation.  What the hell?

I guess we get so caught up in the new challenges in our lives we forget we were and are capable of living the old joys.  As I pulled out of town I found myself comparing a road trip into the known with a visit to an Oncologist who was explaining my trip into the unknown.  The more miles I put between that thought and each mile closer to my destination I realized I was comparing apples to oranges. 

Then BANG! Just like that I started laughing.  Not just laughing, laughing.  The wind rushing in through the windows.  The speed-o-meter at a number that was just right for me and illegal for all.  Dropping over the top and starting down into the Kittitas Valley.  Laughing like a berserker because I was on a road trip with the only terms being what the next four days were going to bring me and they brought me a lot.

But enough.  Those of you that stayed with me to this point, well there is more and I will share it.  There’s the deer, the apparently broken ankle, the monk effect and of course as we all know I’m sure I have an epiphany or two along the way somewhere. 

Talk to you later.