Beacon publisher speaks about cancer

The news of cancer admittedly did not sit well.

I probably was like a lot of other men internally.

Outwardly, I tried to remain calm for my wife (Christine) and the desire that I should have a few more years of life.

I think some men, who are told they have cancer, fall apart, cry and become upset, thinking, “Why me?”

From my point of view, this is not the place or time to weep.

Each person accepts medical knowledge in his or her own way. Some shriek, others just shake their heads in disbelief.

This is not pleasant or good news.

It is news that one must accept and wonder what the next step is. Or where do we go from here?

One listens to the doctor to get a read on what may be next. What are the alternatives? And how is one going to go to get rid of the cancer?

(The initial announcement causes one to draw a blank, be responsive, but half-listening to doctors as they proclaim a plan, advice and/or the reality check – there is no cure.)

Briefly, I, like a lot of men, wanted the cancer gone. Surgery was foremost in my mind.

No, I don’t like or relish the idea of a surgeon opening up my stomach or pelvis below the belly button to take out the prostate. But out it comes, end of cancer – so I thought.

Footnote: Doctors have removed the prostate, but men have had to have radiation follow-up. The Da Vinci idea sounded prudent, a couple of holes in the belly remove the prostate and home free.

Then, of course, there is radiation.

The good news is that Berkshire Medical Center has the latest in radiation technology in the TomoTherapy machine, and in my case, it took 42 sessions and one six-month hormone therapy injection, which is designed to kill the cancer cells, but it gives one hot flashes and sweats that women complain about in their senior years during menopause.

I am getting ahead of myself.

For the record, I am a man of 72 years of age, had a quadruple bypass heart surgery in 2005 and take a series of pills and insulin to keep the heart on an even keel, diabetes under control and the gout from creating pain.

Thus, getting myself a diagnosis, and speaking with Dr. Wade Gerbera in the radiation department, along with Dr. Noyes and my friends in Lenox, G. Bruce Rumph, pharmacist turned lawyer turned pharmacist; Steve Giroux, former nurse now accountant; and Donna Thomas, former nurse, home health care person and current business manager of The Berkshire Beacon, I sought a second opinion at Dana Farber in Boston.

***

Once it was decided that radiation was the way to go, I wanted to be the first one there each morning – Monday through Friday – and to ask the staff for a “steamer” or hot blanket to cover my body.

This allowed me to relax on the cold slab and to drift off in sleep during the process that started out around 30 minutes and was later reduced to 12 minutes.

It also helped me to interact with the staff. There was no excuse for weather, traffic or anything short of a life-threatening issue involving my wife or the dogs.

Do it and be done with it. Better yet, do it with dignity and a good word for the day – maybe a humorous remark – given the circumstances.

***

As it turns out, I was scheduled to begin treatment in October, but had just returned to Lenox from a long weekend in Nantucket where I got pneumonia and had congestive heart failure (CHF), which forced me to the emergency room and later admitted to the hospital for a week.

Interestingly, the radiation staff was willing to begin treatments while I was in the hospital for which I declined noting that both pneumonia and CHF were, in and of themselves, life threatening.

Meanwhile, my wife was worried about the possibility of the spread of cancer in my system. Please note, I was taking a series of medications including ones for cancer.

To be clear, it required an internal exam of the bladder via the penis and an echogram of the liver and kidney. The first one was painful, but perhaps the thought of the idea was more than the actual 30-second view.

The echogram was a piece of cake since nothing had changed from my first few procedures. I learned that I had a large cyst on my kidney and a large kidney stone, which did not make me happy.

And so it went, with good doctors, the latest in technology and a staff that has a welcome attitude and one to help and understand the trauma of having been told one has cancer.

Posted by George C. Jordan III on July 25, 2013. Filed under Opinion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry