Zoladex, Shep and Want To

Sorry for the interruption my Zoladex inquiring readers.  Club 815 was one of the most amazing things to happen to anyone.  It was especially amazing to those fighting the evil empire and their care givers who fight alongside. 

First let me say I’m not a Doctor, don’t play one on T.V. and certainly don’t fake one on this blog.  Any side effects or anything I say can be and very well might be completely bogus.  All I have to go by is what I've read and what happens to me while fighting the Evil Empire here to fore known, thanks to a very close friend as the “Effing Evil Empire”.  Short hand from here on out will be E³

I don’t know if any of you guys ever had a male dog.  If you did, you’d remember that dog being lithe, fast, maybe a great pointer and just a little nuts [yes I did that on purpose sorry] jumping into frozen December ponds and retrieving birds you could have dropped thirty feet closer. Recall the stink eye you'd get while your dog came into the blind?  If that isn’t a testosterone booster T.V. commercial I don’t know what is.

Later though, you get married, become successful and at every dinner party old Shep is humping a leg.  When Shep is doing his thing to the leg of your wife’s boss, well, enough becomes enough and you are told to take Shep to the Vet. 

Remember what happened to Shep after that visit to the Vet?  He grew a great big belly that made you think he might have pups any minute.  He’d lie around and occasionally lick his….never mind.  He became a little forgetful, not always in the moment.  The neighbors hot poodle would come prancing by and all Shep could do is roll over a sigh.  Remember that?

Well guys you are not Shep.  Testosterone is Miracle Grow for prostate cancer.   If you are unfortunate enough to end up fighting the Prostate version of E³ you will find yourself in some Shep like situations due to the Zoladex [or any other hormone treatment] hopefully none involving your wife’s boss’s leg. 

The fact is your body will change tremendously.  Hot flashes that drench your linen to the point you begin to understand what every woman lives with sooner or later.  Hot flashes in a meeting when soon all in attendance think your sweat soaked face means you have Ebola and want to run screaming. Muscle mass.  Patience....and so on.

I’ve lost most of my body hair.  I’ve grown in some disturbingly womanly places and shrank in other of the manly.  Emotionally if you cried when watching “Old ‘Yeller” you won’t cry any harder.  For me, the lack of testosterone makes me more aggressive i some situations though I’ll cry as I always have when watching “Where The Red Fern Grows.”  There is no chance, none at all, that I will be singing in the Vienna Boys Choir.  I still can't miraculously knit, crochet or quilt.

It is, and will be different for every guy; this subtraction of testosterone, but think of your partner.  Your partner isn’t suffering from the “I don’t want to.”  Your partner is suffering from the ”I very much want to.”  Believe it or not many men are fortunate enough to rise to the occasion when persuaded.  Others, with a little imagination, may have to come up with more inventive ways assuaging their partners “want to.” 

There are certainly other side effects, some life threatening, but I think the Shep Effect probably weighs heaviest on the minds of both patient and care giver.  E³, especially the prostate kind, introduces a huge dose of humility in us men.  Rephrase, any invasion of E³ introduces humility in anyone’s life man, woman or Shep.

Shep.  Shep.  Down boy down!

Talk to you later.

If anyone wants more info they can email me with questions.

Club 815 Powered By E.D.P.A.

Dawn broke that sunny September Equinox morning with professional anticipation.  The long shadows of the empty starting line stretched east to west with equal anticipation.  The day was on hand when teams of warriors would face hours of unknown in a chase for personal best and support for their charity.

As the shadows fled east and the breeze kicked up from the west one could hear the clicking of armor being donned.  The skirch of Velcro, swish of nylon and Lycra all for that protection from a sudden fall on the battle field that is the Gran Fondo Hood River!

Amongst the hoard preparing for the assault were a particularly special group made up of seven men and a woman.  These men and woman from the four corners of the United States and made up the intrepid team known as Club 815 powered by E.D.P.A.

As the morning wore on warriors donned numbers, helmets and inexplicable to the novice [me] sundries prior to approaching the start line.  I’d like to write something like, as the mighty steeds awaited in the cold morning air breathing silver streams of angst as they….well they were just bikes and while I think there was one bike on the team that needed resuscitation none of the bikes exhaled.  

 Various charity announcements were made.  National Anthem was sung and then… the hoards of hundreds were off.

The course wended its way through the cleavage of two of the largest volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest Cascades.  There were major climbs one of which at mile 62 of the 80 was a 6% grade over seven miles.  On this day that climb was done in the face of a gorge wind pushing back around 45 mph. 

During the ride members of the team accomplished what they set out to do.  One member I know proved something very important to his self.  Hell, one member even crashed and fortunately wasn’t severely injured and said it was worth it.  When the riders came down the back side of the aforementioned hill the wind was so hard in their face they had to pedal just to make way.

Big deal you say.  You say “every bike ride has those stories.”  Yes they do.  What is so so special, that I’m not even sure Club 815 powered by E.D.P.A. knows it, is that they were the vanguard of a, to me, amazing movement. 

You see, they were the catalyst to bring hundreds of people together to support someone in need.  Selflessly Club 815 rode the course knowing they had asked for and received selfless contributions for Club 815’s primary cause.

For those of you who supported their cause, Club 815 didn’t let you down. Over 80 miles they rode they rode with pain, stamina and conviction [and a lot of humor].  We saw it with our own eyes from the relative comfort of our pickup truck.

815’s conviction and the unbelievable support from those who didn’t physical ride with them but were there none the less was, in our eyes, one of the most humbling experiences in our lives.

We know how humbling, because we know who you and Club 815 are lending support to.  It is my wife and I.   We can’t possibly thank any of you, no matter how you rode with Club 815, enough but we sure wish we could.  Thank you. 

Let Me See...Zoladex or Lupron? #Zoladex #Lupron

Two things dawned on me today, well three, I haven’t written for a long time and what I have written hasn’t been very helpful to the man facing prostate cancer armed with only “What the hell do I do now?” 

 I’m thinking I have a couple of those type of readers and today I can’t give you the answer of what to do but I can tell you one of the things you may face.. .. Hormone therapy.

Ever put Miracle Grow on your lawn?  You apply, walk in and get a glass of ice water, walk back to the front porch and say “Where the hell is my machete?”  You can’t even see your mailbox [male get it?] for the jungle your lawn has become.

Well Miracle Grow, that’s what prostate cancer cells think of testosterone.  Testosterone is the fertilizer; the anabolic kick your ass NFL steroid of rampant and aggressive prostate cancer.  Testosterone is the rocket fuel that sends Titan rocket payloads into prostate orbit.

So, what’s the proscribed treatment to stop testosterone production in a man?  Well there’s the physical.  Take him to a vet for an orchiectomy [look it up] just like you would your puppy.  Actually one would probably, as a human, have better results with a doctor.  However I suppose you favorite Vet has more experience.  

Or you can have your body fooled that you are testosterone laden on a Samson like level  thus convincing your body….to stop making that stuff by applying  a drug called Zoladex or Lupron.

I’ve had both.  Upon diagnosis the urologist had this pretty little lass jab me with a needle and said I was good for three months [Lupron].  Three months later a prettier [yup with my libido at that time they were still winsome lasses] nurse at my oncologist walks in to insert, INSERT, the Zolodex under the skin into the fat that is my belly.   

What the hell I say?  How about Lupron?  Nope the hospital doesn’t have a deal with that particular pharma company so it’s Zoladex for me. A rice size piece of Zoladex is inserted under your skin with a railroad spike.

Go ahead zoom in.

Then they hope you don't bleed out.

Trust me.  If they ask prior to the spike if you would like Lidacaine say yes and no the process just isn't that bad.  Think of your biopsy...I thought so.

Tomorrow [I promise I'll write] the effects of hormonal treatment.

Talk to you later.
 

WOW! My Soul Got A Band-Aid

Finger slice and wound healed.  I'm back.  My post, since reading back and finding I've been remiss, isn't going to be about any Prostate Cancer Treatment Secrets that those of you may be facing.  Nope, this blog is selfish time.

As some of you may or may not remember last year I went up to the family vacation property by myself and I was chased by the ghosts of my past.  My disease coupled with my revisiting long past family was in the dark of by myself was, well, scary for me.

This year I returned for a far different experience.  I've been going up there since I was sixteen.  A lot of my life has happened up there.  No different this trip.  I seemed calmer than last year.  I seemed to let the ghosts go and concentrate on my happiness and how I was going to pursue that happiness for myself and the ones I care about most.

I, with my cane [I promised I would always have my cane] explored, took photos and soaked in this most of miraculous of places.  As I spent the quick two days I felt pieces of the universe click.  Just like they always do when up there but somehow more.  Way more!  I felt like myself and mine were going to be alright and an overwhelming sense of peace was mine to wear.

Why am I writing this?  You as the reader didn't expect this from this blog.  I'm writing this because I think that by putting it down on "paper"  I might be saying thank you.  

Talk to you later

P.S.  Tomorrow!  Exciting news about Zolodex and Days Later Provenge

Hey Mister Is That Thing Sharp?

Well you know what they say...the road to hell is paved with best intentions.  So I'm well on my way to hell because I intended, and now won't be able, to write those entertaining blogs for a while.

My birthday and best friend's are seven days apart and normally celebrated with the now famous "Geezer Gala".  This year I was out of town so no gala to be had and he and I exchanged gifts this most recent Friday.

He knows that I love to cook.  When one cooks one cuts things.  He has known me for thirty years and recognized I have always coveted my neighbor's knife.  Oh my!  I really am on my way down the path to perdition. 

So I was amazed when I open my gift to reveal this. [Glad it wasn't my neighbors wife]

This is one serious 700 year old Ninja family, still manufactured the ancient ways using a secret I'd have to kill you if I told you formula, Ninja cutting machine.

Well naturally I had to cut something with this Ninja Knife and I did.

The tip of my finger is now, if not tightly wrapped, flapping in the wind, thus making long bouts of typing onerous and of course, slowing down the blog process.

So yeah kid, that things sharp.  Really! Really, fecking sharp!

Talk to you later

The Smell of Blue

A few sunny days ago I found myself sitting in my wife’s beautifully randomly sculpted backyard.  Her knack for growing is Druidic.   

I was sitting in a vinyl chair that is so out of place in her garden staring up at the sky.

The blue of the sky was mesmerizing.  I remember looking up and thinking “How would you describe that color of sky to a blind man?”

Smell!  The blue of the sky would smell like a crystal glacier stream  meandering through a high mountain meadow full of blooming alpine flowers coupled with a strong uphill breeze  filled with the scent of the cedar grove below.  Yep that’s the blue.

I watched the Cirrus clouds dance and form a myriad of mystical shapes.  I was particularly fond of the beautiful woman dancing and spinning in diaphanous ice dresses like a favored   10,000 foot Sheik’s dancer in the sky. 

My wife, knowing my mathematical proclivity, aimed my gaze to the Southwest.  There I saw the Cirrus dance into a multiple curly cue of fractalness that defines our worlds and lives.  The curly was perfect in it’s self similarity and I was amazed.

An hour we were engrossed in the mystical and mesmerizing movements of the clouds that seemed to be placed for just us.  Until...

My wife says “look” and dragged my eyes down from my dancing cloud to the rim of her wine glass.  There on the rim was a beetle doing a tight rope around and around and around.  We both, my wife and I rooted the beetle on and once he/she fell into the wine my wife fetched the now drunken beetle out and sent Mr. Beetle on his way.   

Like a trooper Mr. Beetle walked around the circle that is a small round party table for a hundred times.  Then sober.  Flew off. 

My eyes and attention drifted back up to that blue that you could “smell.”  Much smaller than my 10,000 foot ancient Persian dancer she had now turned into a less than ferocious wolf chasing a marshmallow.  My head was tilted back on the cheap vinyl looking at the “blue" when I was struck!

I can not explain this. 

 It was as if I was filled.  Filled with something way more powerful than I.  It didn’t build up “it” struck me in thirty seconds or so.  Once it was done filling me, my eyes started to fill with tears and before they could fall, the tears….stopped.  I was filled with someone, someone else or someplace else.  It was somehow peaceful at the time. An inexplicable overwhelming emotional response.

I can’t explain what happened and I’m writing it for my sake to see if in writing I can arrive at an explanation. The moment was amazing.  I can say that it was the first time I guess that I was overwhelmed with…whatever.  Maybe this happens to people all the time and I'm an oddity.  I just don't know.  Maybe it was the "blue".

Talk to you later.

Clebration Is The Point

Well I’m back, quit moaning, after quite some time in the grey miasma of what’s the point.  I had plenty to write about but then…the grey mist of what’s the point struck.

Well there is a point and what has made the point and split that veil of gray was a celebration that I was fortunate to attend Saturday.

Maybe I just missed it, but through my lifetime I apparently didn’t know what a celebration was/is.  Birthday, a wake, an anniversary, wedding, Sturgis 2012 etc. etc. marking passing time I had no clue what we were celebrating exactly until Saturday.

Saturday I found myself in sunny Central Washington well into West Yakima Valley.  My wife and I were there to attend, what I didn’t know till later my niece’s wedding.  Knowing that any family event involving my wife meant a family gathering at least 10 magnitudes times my clan’s gatherings.  Actually  clan creates a feeling of many while my family’s reunion would only require a small garage and two card tables all catered by K.F.C. because eight fraps [whatever] and four canopes [whatever] and one bottle of sparkling cider wouldn’t make minimum charge of any real caterer.

“How many people?” I asked anxiously.

“300 invitations were mailed.” She said.

 “Why am I going?” I whined.

“Because you’re the bride’s uncle.”  My wife replied with a yeah duh tone.

Wait.  Stop.  Uncle?  How am I the bride’s uncle?  Well it appears that unbeknownst to me you aren’t only an uncle to your sibling’s children but your spouse’s sibling’s children too?  This put a different light on everything but I’m still trying to count how many nieces and nephews I have.

I won’t go in to the details of the wedding.  Suffice it to say it took place in a stunning West Valley setting at the bride’s Grandparent’s home.  The bridesmaids were lovely in their dresses and cowboy boots as they led the bride’s two bulldogs[?] up the aisle and the groomsman were built to not be reckoned with.  Bride and groom rocked it, the ceremony short, the food just right and I’m guessing a couple hundred people.  The event was rife with all the elements that create a celebration.  

After the requisite wedding dances I started to pay closer attention.  Young, old, cowboy or accountant were all smiling.  Not that stiff political smile at the company office party.  No, young and old were smiling with happiness and the optimism they held in their hearts for the bride and groom’s life forward, and perhaps the smiler’s own life forward.

That’s when I realized everyone their were in the now.  At that very moment in life all their petty life pains to the chronic ones that border debilitating, were personally suspended and all energy was directed in the celebration of life forward. 

Thanks to my nieces wedding I’ve come to realize no matter what we are celebrating even if it is only a mark of time passing we are celebrating now and celebrating time forward.  We should celebrate everyday our time forward.  That’s the point!   

Thanks Niece, be happy.