O-Dark-Thirty

And there isn't much more that needs to be said about that! Enjoy the holidays. It's my favorite time of year, because even mean people act nicer. Too bad it cannot last. God bless you all which is what He did at Christmas!

Interesting point that our Pastor made Sunday. Anxiety is caused because we feel that God will not work out our issues THE WAY WE WANT HIM TO. That's hubris, I suppose. I need to get a proper alignment with God in my life. Humble yourself before God I have to remember that there is a God and I'm not him, as the line in Rudy goes. Have a proper view of God I must believe that God loves me and remember that God is all-powerful. Release your concerns to God There's a story that illustrates this. A little boy takes his broken toy to a toymaker. "Can you fix it Mister?" he asks. "It's my favorite toy." "I sure can, my Lad." So the boy stands there and waits and the toymaker looks back at him. "Well," says the boy, "are you going to fix it?" The toymaker smiles. "My Lad, in order for me to fix your toy, you must let go of it." A few years ago, our youngest daughter had a crisis at work. Her job seemed at risk. "

I won't make this long. I treasure the few of you who are following all this, but I do tend to natter, so I won't this time. The treatment plan is decided. The Doctor ordered Apalutamide for me (Brand name: Erleada) which I will start taking as soon as I can get my specialty pharmacy to deliver the meds. That's an entirely different fight, one which anyone with insurance and specialty pharmacological needs fights time and again. Just as a heads-up, here are the listed side effects of Erleada. WARNING/CAUTION: Even though it may be rare, some people may have very bad and sometimes deadly side effects when taking a drug. Tell your doctor right away is you have any of the following signs or symptoms: Signs of an allergic reaction, like rash, hives, itching... (the list goes on but it sure looks bad) Signs of high blood pressure like very bad headache or dizziness, passing out or change in eyesight (I'm not sure what that means since I get headaches anyway, and my eyesight

I have not posted lately, but bear with me. I'm going to start with our latest trip to MD Anderson, which was Wednesday - pretty much all day. I had the most terrible experience while I was there. For my CT scan, the nice people put me into a room and told me to change clothes. I put my shirt and pants into the little paper bag and realized I needed to send Darling a text to let her know where I went, since she went wandering through the complex (we expected a five hour wait in the waiting room). I dug into the bag and pulled my shirt out. I removed my glasses from my shirt pocket and put them on my leg, then grabbed my phone and repacked the bag. I lost my glasses. They were totally gone. I moved the chair, unpacked the bag, checked all my clothes. My glasses vanished. Not a huge problem, since they are just dollar store glasses, but they vanished! Resigned to the loss of my glasses, I sat back down in my chair. My glasses were on my face. I'm getting old. ~ Let's review.

September 7 was the day that started treatment at MD Anderson. MD Anderson is a major reason we moved back to Texas. As leaders in cancer research, they engage in the most cutting-edge technologies available for cancer treatment. This first appointment was simply to meet the team, but we were especially interested in the main doctor assigned to me. Dr. Paul Corn introduced himself as a senior member of their cancer team. He understated his position. In fact, he is the Chair of the department. He shook our hands, which immediately endeared him to Darling. He gave us a standard overview of MD Anderson and of prostate cancer. Most of the latter we knew already. If men live long enough, they will almost certainly get prostate cancer. Most men die with prostate cancer, not from it. That sort of thing. What struck me most about DrC (as I will now refer to him) was his humility. He did not appear as some god-inspired gift to medicine with all the answers, but rather as a doctor who still inve

Photo by Rachel Kramer Over three weeks. Sometimes I sit and stare at the back of my hands and wonder. How did we get here? I know the reasons, in my mind. My emotions? An entirely different story. Men aren't supposed to cry. Right? That's a rule my father taught me, with both harsh words and harder looks. And I don't want to cry. I can blame it on my current cancer treatment, an ongoing chemical castration that strips me of testosterone. Apparently my cancer feeds on testosterone. So the current method is to starve the cancer. The medical community developed this treatment in the 1940s. I'm praying that MD Anderson has something more...up to date. In the meantime the dark clouds that surround my mind plague me. Part of me broke when I left Michigan, a place I so blithely thought would be my final home, and returned to Texas, a place I so desperately fought to escape for forty years. The pain sears my heart and sneaks up on me when I'm not looking. I don't see i

  Moving is a nightmare, no matter how little you have. When you have a lot, it is a exponentially worse. Moving to Michigan, we brought two trucks of furniture and items. Things I thought we'd just keep with us in our final home. Let the kids worry about having a garage sale after we die. Yet plans change. Moving back to Texas we're doing it differently. I got rid of almost all my books. That broke my heart, but at least my good friend John managed to keep my large collection of Studies of the Future books together in a single library. (Thanks, John!) We've sold almost all our furniture, and given much of it away. We've given away (literally) pickup trucks full of items. We've boxed and packed and boxed some more. Our new local hero neighbor Sarah managed to sell a number of items for us. I sold or gave away a lot of my newly acquired tools. If it snows in the next two weeks I'm in trouble. We have two bedrooms that need to go with us. We have rooms full of box

I suppose my readers (both of you) might be wondering my status. Four weeks after the surgery my insides seem to have settled down. It only hurts once in a while when I go to the bathroom, which is a tremendous improvement. I experience greater urgency than I once did, but that's a known side effect of the surgery. I still have some occasional flashes of pain, but that's hard to quantify. I can pee so much better, though. I wonder how guys in the past managed to muddle through. Without surgery would I have been doomed to a slow trickle of relief? Imagine being a mountain man back in the 1800s or something and having to stand under a tree for fifteen minutes or more trying to empty your bladder. I bet there were some bears and cougars that found a good meal or two that way. How about the hormone therapy? Yeah, I don't know. It seems that most of the time the pain in my bones is less than it was. Overall, my pain level is down. Aside from that, I don't feel like I am impr

  Recovery from the TURP surgery is ongoing. Most of the pain is gone. The symptoms that forced the surgery are relieved (pun intended). Still, there are times I feel the soreness, so if you are three weeks after the surgery, don't be too surprised. Sometimes I sit down at the wrong angle and I feel a deep pain within my lower body. That's to be expected. We had some serious plumbing work done, after all. I am now allowed to lift more than ten pounds. Fabulous. I no longer need to sit around the house and feel utterly useless as we continue to prepare for the move back to Texas. However, I still find that my stamina is drained quickly. I don't think that is because of surgery, but a by-product of the cancer. The ADT (Androgen Deprivation Therapy) is now in full swing, right? I don't know if I can tell. For three days after the Lupron (?) shot I hurt. I mean, down to the bone, inside the body aching pain type of hurt. That pain disappeared. I still feel pain in my muscle

  We've sold our beautiful, once-forever home and will be on the road to a new house in Texas within the month. My heart breaks that we must do this. I wanted years here. What I did get was two winters, two springs, almost two summers and one fall. Figures. Autumn is my favorite time of year here in Michigan. Still, I'll try to be thankful for what I did have. Too bad Covid hit when we got here. We have not been able to get to know the wonderful people here at the Lake. Just now, we're seeing how fabulous they are. Three ladies from the neighborhood are helping Darling pack up and one lovely lady brought us dinner. Pork chops, potatoes and salad. Oh, my. So this morning I received the shot that goes with my new oncology medicine. I don't know if this is the treatment that MD Anderson will concur with, but it's what we have right now. The PA gave me a shot in my belly fat. He said it would hurt. He told the absolute truth. It still hurts, hours later. MD Anderson acc

  I have a doctor appointment at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. It will be a week or so after we've moved in to the new house back in Texas. Assuming all goes well with the move, of course. In the meantime, I'm taking exactly the treatment I swore I wouldn't take as the first step to beating this cancer. We do what we must. The moving saga continues, but that isn't for this blog post. Let's just focus here on the medicine and the trials and tribulations associated with getting good medical treatment in the USA. I'm recovering well from the surgery. At least I think I am. It's hard to avoid moving boxes and items around here, especially as we prepare to move. I'm still tired all the time. The current treatment doesn't seem to do much to mitigate that. I don't think I'm hurting as much as I did, but maybe I just don't recall. There might be some memory issues, too! I do have a bothersome rash on my side now, but that isn't relate

  So let's get up to date. Darling go the medicine situation ironed out. DrC indeed submitted the prescription, neglecting to tell us it was at the pharmacy conveniently located in his private partnership. After finding another Dr, DrC transferred the prescription to our preferred pharmacy - you know, the one they had my put into the five page set of forms you fill out to be treated by their partnership. Our pharmacy said they couldn't fill it because it was filled at the private partnership. Had them cancel that one, resubmit it and - oh, wait - our pharmacy doesn't stock the medicine required.  Okay, another local pharmacy does have it, as long as we can get generic... Upshot, I took the first pill last night. We're moving forward with changing to a local oncologist. In the meantime, my favorite urologist had a twenty minute chat with the both of us concerning this treatment. The pills will block the receptors of the cancer cells and then next Wednesday or Thursday I

Had a blood test today and my PSA is down to 80.7. So far these appointments have been with the local GR branch of oncology. I shall not name names. However, after the visit with the doctor assigned to me, Darling and I felt ... disappointed. He did give me a number, at least. If I did not get treatment with this cancer, then I have six months to a year left. So let's talk treatment. Which he did. He refused to discuss any alternatives, but proceeded to tell me that Androgen Deprivation Therapy (originally identified as viable in 1941) was the way to go. He did hook me when he said ADT would eliminate my almost-constant pain, and within a few days. He did tell me about a patient who hurt so bad he couldn't roll over. A few hours after treatment he was in the shower and shaving. I can give you the first part of the therapy today, he said, as long as insurance approves it. Okay, we say. The shot will have to come, uhm, maybe Thursday, he says. Okay, we say. I have to admit I was

There is a diffuse pain inside me that I cannot isolate. I awoke about four and couldn't get back to sleep. Perhaps I've slept too much lately. Perhaps I'm thinking too much lately.  Perhaps I'm overthinking this. Darling asked me if I'd given up or was still fighting. I haven't given up. Death is the ticket price to an everlasting paradise beyond this physical realm, the place I've dwelt since I was born. My body ties me to this plane of existence. Moving on is inevitable and we all face it. I do long to be with God at some point. I don't want to die yet. Right now I don't know what to do to combat the cancer. I'm eating better (I think). I'm doing my research on treatments. I've scheduled my next doctor appointment so that I can work on a plan. Beyond even that, Darling bought a house back in Pearland, TX and we will leave this house in this tiny slice of Michigan paradise and return to the humid, hot Houston basin. Closer to MD Anderso

  Day three of recovery is much improved. I'm still in pain, which I hate, but I have a new pain routine. My favorite doctor prescribed a codeine pain pill for this entire after-surgery bit, so I take one at 9AM and another at 9PM. That's half as often as I'm allowed, but it does give me more than an hour of continuous sleep. Treasured, blessed, lengthy sleep. Still, through the night, I'm getting up almost every hour. At this point it might be more habit than necessity. Or they reshaped my bladder to be the size of a walnut. Day four of recovery is remarkably similar. I'm tired, trying to heal, I suppose. I still have a hard time sleeping for long intervals, but I managed about ninety minutes at one stretch. That was right after the Narco at 9PM. Peeing still hurts, like ground glass twisting inside me. I hate it, but it seems less intense now. The pain meds cause constipation, which makes it uncomfortable to sit for long periods of time. Of course, the TURP makes

  First night home. I get up to pee every 15-30 minutes. Maybe having the catheter in for a few days would have been a better idea. It didn't work for me, but your mileage may vary... By morning, I'm exhausted. However, my urine is much less bloody. Oh, I forgot to mention that during the night I passed a blood clot - the size of a watermelon seed. That's less than the size of a dime that the hospital instructions say to worry about. It hurt like passing a watermelon... I laze about all day, sometimes on the couch, sometimes on the bed, occasionally sitting. It sort of hurts to sit. Come to think of it, it just sort of hurts. Hey I found something in the literature as I researched for this blog post! One of the side effects of a TURP:  Need for re-treatment. Some men require follow-up treatment after TURP because symptoms don't improve or they return over time. Sometimes, re-treatment is needed because TURP causes narrowing (stricture) of the urethra or the bladder neck

  Ouch. Just ouch. For sensitive people, you should skip some posts. I don't know how many. Here's the brochure information: Transurethral resection of the prostate (TURP) is a surgery used to treat urinary problems that are caused by an enlarged prostate. TURP typically relieves symptoms quickly. Most men experience a significantly stronger urine flow within a few days. Follow-up treatment to ease symptoms is sometimes needed, particularly after several years have passed. The surgery went well for me, technically. I think I lost it a little when it was all over and my bladder and butt were yelling at me to "EVACUATE!"  That was supposed to be a little funny but it probably wasn't. With a catheter, you don't worry about going pee. It all moves on its own through a plastic tube into a plastic container.  The poo problem was a little more real. The hospital kept me overnight since I bled a lot. Maybe because of disorientation, too. Hardest night ever, except I d

  So this post will be brief. The first doctor on my team said "We aren't even sure you have cancer" though we already had my >100 PSA, my enlarged prostate and a CT scan showing metastasis. The other two doctors were not so brutal, but it seems they concur. Each check box must be checked as we progress. It's taking a long time to check the boxes. The biopsy went smoothly. They didn't knock me out, but they gave me something to relax. To me, it seemed the procedure took only a few minutes. To poor Darling, not wrapped in my soothing time warp, the process took three-quarters of an hour. Whatever they used, I recovered quickly and we were home before noon, where I slept for a few hours. I have a massive headache, but there it is. Darling is exhausted. Tomorrow, my friends, will be worse. The TURP (more commonly known as a roto-rooter procedure) is more complex. We'll leave the house at 0430 to arrive at 0530. The procedure starts at 0730 and should last a fe

  My new medical team includes a young man who is my "Navigator" which is a nice term meaning he is my point man. I finally sent him the message from my previous post  "Now the doctors have both the CT and the bone scan. We have no idea what it means. So on a scale on 1 to 10 (again) with one being "meh, I've seen worse" to 5 with "it's all treatable" to 10 with "better finish reading that book" what are we looking at?" Tyler sent me a great response: Good morning Vince, I’m glad Dr. P was able to respond so quickly regarding your other questions. Unfortunately, it would be hard to place you accurately on the “bell curve of survival” at this point. Though we have the data from the CT, Bone Scan, and PSA, your procedure with Dr. P will give us the final piece of the puzzle. When the pathology department examines the tissue they won’t just be looking to confirm prostate cancer, they will also be looking for how aggressive the canc

This one will be a little long, because there's a lot of information. Heads-up. So eventually I did receive responses from my Medical team.  My surgeon for the TURP procedure later this week sent the following: First, Hello. Sorry we have to meet like this. But I can promise we are going to take great care of you And you will be asleep for the entire operation.  ----------------------- 1. I'm running a low grade fever probably due to a kidney stone. Those are new for me, but I'm catching on to the lower back pain and pain migration. Is this an issue?   NO, you do NOT have kidney stones. I reviewed your Ct scan and your prostate is large but no kidney stones. It is probably from the tumor that is giving you back pain. As the hormone treatments start to work that should improve in the next 6 weeks or so. I would take tylenol for now.  2. Something might be off with my left testicle. There's a small mass that I don't recall before. What do we do about that? I can exam

So the results from the bone scan are in. Here's the text. There are multiple foci of abnormal tracer uptake in lumbar vertebral bodies and thoracic vertebral bodies as well as focal and fusiform abnormal tracer uptake in the bilateral ribs. Focus of tracer activity centered at the left sacroiliac joint is present as well as a small focus of abnormal tracer activity at the right aspect of the sacrum. There is an additional focus of abnormal tracer activity at the right proximal femur. Abnormal tracer activity is also present at the lower sternum and at the manubrium. Small focus of abnormal tracer activity is present at the right proximal humerus. It's some sort of special language doctors use and I sure don't know what any of it means. I sent a note to my new favorite doctor: Yeah, me again. Thanks for always talking with us, Doc. So the latest question concerns the bone scan. We have no idea what it means. So on a scale on 1 to 10 (again) with one being "meh, I'v

Darling is heartbroken, and there is nothing I can say to give her comfort. I understand. During her treatment for breast cancer in 2012, I was at wit's end. I barely recall that year. To think of living in this world without her brings me to the edge of despair. I think that's where she is, and I can do nothing about it. She has begun to gather a village about her, which she will need if my cancer worsens. In her case, since we moved to Michigan nineteen months ago, her people are a virtual and multi-location village, though none (right now) are local. She activated prayer requests from (literally) around the world. I know, regardless of what happens with me, these prayers will provide her the support she needs when she needs it. She does better some days than others. This morning she awoke with a song on her heart, and that gives her comfort. "Great is thy faithfulness" indeed. For my part, death holds little fear. Does that sound trite? Pain, however, I fear a grea

This bit is personal, and might not be suitable for everyone to read. You're warned. A few months ago I noticed my bladder wouldn't entirely empty. Going to the bathroom at night became a bit of an issue. Like a guy, I put it off until I couldn't. My doctor (Dr. W) confirmed my prostate was enlarged (yeah, figure that one out for yourself). He then ordered a blood test for PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen). Doctors get concerned if the PSA is above 4.0 ng/mL. When I lived in Pearland in 2017, my PSA was 4.1. The urologist there said it wasn't worrisome, but we could keep an eye on it. On May 11, 2021 my PSA was 97.35. I called him and asked if there was a misplaced decimal. He sent me to my (new) local urologist, Dr. C. After ten days of Cipro, Dr. C tested it again. On May 27 my PSA tested as 103.2. This is pretty much a guaranteed cancer in my prostate. The first step in the ensuing process is analysis. On June third I had a pelvic CT with contrast. Yeah, I had to drink

 I sit here and look out the window. The day is grey, the sky overcast and there is a chill in the air that permeates into the living room. I feel the chill into my bones, so I cover myself with a blanket. I’m wearing a plaid shirt, so, looking at me you might think I now live in the middle of the arctic. I have to admit, living here in Michigan after forty years in Texas does seem like I’ve moved to the frozen north. I read a bit of Romans. Some of it confuses me. Who, exactly, does Paul refer to in that first chapter as it moves into the second? Then we listen to Max Lucado and he shares communion over the internet. The sky remains grey, but the darkness wanes. God, my dears, remains God. He doesn’t change. Rain is good. God designed it for enhancing life. Rain is followed by sun, to help us grow. During the rain, look for the light. Just some thoughts for the day. I love you all.

The pond this morning is like glass, not a ripple anywhere. The trees around it reflect perfectly in the water. I saw a duck land on the pond a few moments ago. Ripples rolled away from it as it paddled toward the north of the pond and disappeared. The minor disturbance from these ripples flowed across the pond, marring the reflections I could see. Not by much. I did notice something though. As the ripples touched our shoreline, they reflected back, and they cancelled themselves. The water became calm again. The shore didn't move, and wasn't affected. Come to think of it, neither were the real trees, standing monoliths on the edge of the lake. They remained untouched. Only the reflections, the perceptions of reality, wavered because the duck landed. Were I only watching the pond, I might think that my world shook for a moment. Watching the trees, I know it did not. So a couple thoughts came to mind. I need to stand firm, like the shoreline, and ripples won't affect me. I ne

So often I come before God the Father, my head hung low, feeling defeated and discouraged. I mumble "God, I'm sorry I'm not better than I am." Then I feel the weight of a hand on my shoulder, a calloused hand with a scar on it. My heart fills with warmth and my teary eyes look into the eyes of Jesus. He looks at the Father and says with a shining smile "I knew who he was when I chose him, and I love him anyway. Father, he's one of mine." That's what Ephesians 5:27 means to me, that Jesus sacrificed Himself for me, that when I come before God the Father to receive judgment I will have HIS glory, and have no spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that I would be holy and blameless. And I can barely whisper, "Thank you, my Lord Jesus."

Quarantine Movie Memos The River of No Return (1954) Made in 1954, there's no blue screen in this movie. So all those scenes where the actors are in the water or on the raft must be real. And cold. Set against a gorgeous background, we get to travel along a wild river and brave the rapids on a rickety wooden raft. So did the actors. Marilyn Monroe did a good job, actually singing the songs in the movie. Apparently she didn't really play the guitar, though. The movie was filmed in Jasper and Banff in Canada. We've been there. Not on a river, though.

(I originally posted this in November, 2012 but it's time to post it again.) To the best of my knowledge the concept of Five Love Languages was defined by Dr. Gary Chapman , an "internationally respected marriage and family life expert." I first learned of these love languages over a decade ago, in the middle of a personal crisis. What I learned shocked me; I could love someone with all I had in me and they might not understand. How could this be? We were speaking different love languages. In my case the situation went on so long that love faded into the obscurity of the fog-bound recesses of our minds. Thornton Wilder, in The Ides of March says it splendidly: “You swore you loved me, and laughed and warned me that you would not love me forever. I did not hear you. You were speaking in a language I did not understand. Never, never, I can conceive of a love which is able to foresee its own termination. Love is its own eternity. Love is in every moment of its being: