The Big CANCER Followup!

 Yes, here I am.  Still writing about cancer.  It will always be a part of me.  But the good news is, there currently is no detectable cancer in my body!!  Woo HOOO!!!!

The usual three-month (or even six-month) followup to my cancer-killing procedure (held on November 1st) was delayed FOREVER due to COVID-19.  My doctor literally would not let me into his office.  And an MRI was out of the question.  I guess the COVID bugs must grow like crazy in disinfected places like that, especially in long dark tubes.

But, finally, on July 20th, my awesome cancer doctor agreed to meet with me, but not until after I had the mandatory PSA blood test and an MRI (a magnetic picture) of my prostate.

The PSA came in at 1.1.  Folks, if you've been paying attention, you know that cancer isn't even suspected until the PSA level reaches 4.0!

The MRI, although it looks like a blur to me, apparently shows nothing but scarring where the sausage-sized cancer tumor once thrived.  No cancer detected.  Nothing even semi-suspicious.  NADA!

Now, I'm not stupid and neither is my doctor.  Hours of research has made it clear that cancer is tricky and nasty and fatal.  We are thus moving forward with nothing less than an abundance of caution.  Notice that we keep using the word "detectable" when stating that I don't have cancer.  I don't have "detectable" cancer.  Cancer can, and many times does, rear its very ugly head once again after being obliterated.  So, I will go get my blood drawn every six months for the next five years to check on that PSA level and make sure it is staying down there close to 1.0.

Nothing will get by me or my awesome cancer doc.

So, this likely and hopefully will be my last ever detected cancer blog.

And in the spirit of wrapping things up, I wanted to make a list of sorts of things.  As a CPA, I love lists.  So, here you all go:

Toughest Moment:  The hours right after getting the bad news when you are sent home with a book on 100 ways to die from cancer and not much help.  Such a helpless feeling.  It's OK though.  We drowned it out with tons of Fried Chicken, Mac n Cheese, and Ice Cream!

Greatest Moment:  When I saw the look on my doctor's face when I regained consciousness after the procedure.  His grin said it all!  I knew the cancer ordeal was officially over.

Most Tenderest Moment:  That first night after being diagnosed when I kept waking up to find Hanna holding me tight and sobbing her eyes out.  I felt so scared for her.

Most Awesome Discovery:  Chryotherapy.  The very uninvasive method, using an ice ball, to kill cancer.

Hugest Blessing:  Being a member in Christian Healthcare Ministry.  They covered every single last cent of testing and treatment.  They did not question a thing we did.  Their attitude was "if that is what you and your doctor believe you need to be cured, then we will cover it."  I was not limited by the ideas of an overpaid insurance executive in a tall building somewhere.  All options were explored.  I literally got SIX professional opinions before I decided on my course of treatment.  All paid for.  (If there was a charge, I appreciate the couple that were pro bono).

Worst Moment:  The five days with a Foley Catheter right after the procedure.  I will not go into details.  And especially not pictures.  But that antiquated equipment needs a lot more research and development.

Most Challenging Moment(s):  Having patience with the medical profession as they seemed to move so slowly to the next step.

Biggest Ah Ha Moment:  Realizing that there are so many wild cures out there that folks want to passionately sell you on.  But in the end, it came down to sound medical research, competent Medical Professionals, and precise medical procedures.  Voo Doo, diet, pot and even prayers alone, do not work by themselves.

Funniest Moment:  When I told my grown kids that I had cancer, they immediately erupted into this debate about who was going to get my JEEP once I'm gone.  Everyone deals with stress in their own way.  Humor is not a bad way.  And I don't know where they get their sense of humor from..........

And.........that's IT.  If you ever see this blog again, you will know for a certain that the cancer has made a decision to become detectable again and the battle will be on once more.  For now, I lay my sword down.

Thanks for following me and especially for your prayers and love.

--Greg, Cancer Survivor!!!!