Biopsy And Results

Yes, I had planned on writing about the biopsy done on January 7th separately, but I just couldn't, and then all hell broke loose, and things kept happening, one after the other, so here we are.

The Biopsy

We were escorted into the office, and my husband removed his pants and laid on his side. I stood next to him to hold his hand (more for me than him) and before the Urologist came in, the technician gave my husband an injection of antibiotics. The Urologist came in and explained that he would be taking 8 samples from various areas of the prostate using a spring loaded "gun" aided by a sonogram. The sonogram apparatus can best be described as a long thin dildo-looking thing about 1 inch in circumference. It was covered with a condom, and inserted into my husband's rectum. It wasn't uncomfortable for my husband, but that was just the beginning. Once a sonogram was taken, the Urologist said he would be injecting medication to numb the area. Keep in mind that because I was standing, I got to see all the implements used, and when I saw the needle that was being used (long and thick) I got more than a little nervous. I realized the length was so the area could be reached, but he kept withdrawing and injecting in different areas of the prostate. Honestly, the little bit of blood wasn't disturbing. A speck at the most. I was fine, and my husband barely reacted.

Then it was time for the biopsy. There was a slight "click" sound as it took a piece.  The Urologist handed the "gun" containing the sample to the technician, who was to put the sample on a slide. Unfortunately, it only wound up partly on the slide, and I saw it. It could best be described as a thin worm-looking thing, maybe a half inch long.  I started to feel a little sick when I watched the technician struggle to get the sample on the slide. In the meantime, the Urologist took another sample with a "click" and this time, it went on the slide properly. Just as the Urologist was about to take the third sample, I got really lightheaded, so I asked my husband how he was doing, and when he reassured me he was okay, I told him I was going to sit down. I didn't need to pass out watching this. After it was all done, and the sonogram apparatus was removed, and it was covered in blood. Honestly, I was more disturbed by the actual samples than I was by the blood. Later, after he was cleaned up and ready to go, I asked my husband what it was like. He said it felt like an impacted bowel movement going slowly through his intestines. OUCH! His followup appointment was set for January 25th already, so we left.

All Hell Breaking Loose

I was in the early stages of what I later called "the cold from hell." It lasted 3 weeks, and even though it's gone, I'm still coughing. My husband developed gastrointestinal pain, and I wound up taking him to the local ER on Wednesday night. He was diagnosed with gastritis and sent home. By Friday, it had gotten so bad that I took him back, and he was admitted for observation and tests.  He stayed there until Monday afternoon, and received a diagnosis for stomach ulcers. I have very mixed feelings. Yes, it's nice to know what is wrong, but what is wrong isn't exactly minor either.  The good thing is that the new meds prescribed has made his life a little easier. So, while all this has been going on, my husband has watched everyone but the most necessary personnel in his office get laid off. His place of employment is going out of business, so both of us have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. When? Who knows? but this has become yet another reason for me to worry.

A Much-Needed Respite

On MLK day, I was picked up for a planned trip, and I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday at the Disneyland Resort. Specifically, Disneyland on Tuesday and Thursday, and California Adventure on Wednesday. I even stayed at Disney's Grand Californian Hotel & Spa on Tuesday and Wednesday night, PLUS I had breakfast at Storyteller's Cafe with ALL the characters on Wednesday morning. I was treated to some wonderful meals throughout my visit, and thanks to early admission and Fastpass, I never spent more than 30 minutes in line for any attraction. I was treated like a Queen, and I am extremely grateful for it. It was a welcome respite planned out over a month ago, and in anticipation of the Urology appointment and subsequent unknowns I would be facing as a result of the appointment. I am so glad I went with my Girlfriend.
 

Results And ???

I arrived home late Thursday night, and I struggled to fall asleep.  When my husband called to wake me, I rushed and was ready to go. He offered to drive, so I relaxed a little on the way. Kind of knowing, and kind of dreading, worrying about possible treatments. Honestly, when the Urologist gently told us it was aggressive prostate cancer, we were both completely unsurprised. I sent the following text to a few close friends and Family:
No surprise. Aggressive prostate cancer. Now they need to do a bone scan and another pelvic MRI.  Apparently, there was cancer in all 8 areas where the biopsy was taken. This is a really slow process.

 I understand it looks rather short, but it was just intended to share information. Right now, it's all I know. I don't have many answers. I wish I did, because I keep getting questions from concerned friends that I can't answer. Well, actually it's not all I know, so I will share the rest:

About 20 years ago, my Husband had a slightly high PSA result.  his doctor at the time did a digital rectal exam, and said it felt fine. No followups were ever done. The Urologist theorized that it was the early stage of prostate cancer, so 20 years of untreated prostate cancer is what we are now facing. That is why it is so aggressive. It's been growing undetected and untreated for 20 years.

THAT was a shock!

The Urologist ordered the other tests (bone scan and another pelvic MRI) to determine if it has metastasized (spread) to the bones or affected the lymph system. We're waiting on referrals for those tests before they can be done.

Really, it's been the stress of "hurry up and wait" that's eating at the both of us.


Oh, and when we got home, we found out that the General Manager at my husband's job resigned. It's hard to watch this, and know that my husband won't have a job much longer.

So now... I have told you everything I know.

AND... 

We wait.

What The Urologist Said

First, an apology. Christmas and the New Year ate up my time, but as you will soon discover, maybe it's better this way.

So, here it was, one week and one day after Thanksgiving, and on the drive to the Urologist, my inner child was upset.  She asked difficult questions and cried as I tried to focus on driving, and let me tell you, driving and crying isn't a good mix.. One inside the Urologist's office, my husband and I tried to make light conversation, but my gut was tied up in knots. My gut is rarely wrong. The whole "What if?" litany of questions went through my head.

It reminded me of when I had to deal with my mother's breast cancer.  We knew something was up, because there were so many tests done to her, so we agreed in advance to "Hope for the best, and Plan for the worst." So when Mom was actually told, we looked at each other, smiled, and scheduled the surgery. A full-on mastectomy, because we didn't want to take our chances.

And here I was, sitting in the Urologists office, and reminding myself to hope for the best, and plan for the worst, but knowing that I saw the invisible sign on the door 'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.'

I just don't know how doctors do it. He walked in, smiled, said hello, and then went over how MRI's of the prostate are graded. For a brief moment, I relaxed. Then he went on to explain what each "grade" meant.  He looked at my husband, and said "Yours is a grade 5."

Taken from Prostate Cancer Research Institute (https://pcri.org/whats-new-in-prostate-cancer-a-clinical-perspective/):
"The radiologist reading the MRI images of the prostate assigns a score on a 5 point scale to express the probability of high grade, aggressive cancer being present. If the score is 5/5, the possibility of an aggressive tumor is > 90%."

Yes, I bolded the possibility of an aggressive tumor just to show that I'm not overreacting.

We looked at each other and then the Urologist and asked "What's next?" He told us a biopsy had to be scheduled along with a followup in two weeks minimum, and he sent us to the clerk. As we waited, my husband said, "Well, we shouldn't be too surprised. After all, I smoked for 40 years."  My thought was something I won't write here.

Scheduling was a bitch! Between my husband's work schedule, the Urologist going on vacation, and the upcoming holidays, the soonest that a biopsy could be scheduled was January 7th in the late afternoon. That's Monday. 5 weeks ad 3 days after the MRI results were given to us. Did I mention how anxiety provoking that is? Then we wait until the 25th in the morning, which will mean that by the time we have any definite answers we will have been in this hellish limbo for 8 weeks. Honestly, I just want answers so I can plan accordingly.

Do I sound heartless and uncaring? Do I sound selfish? I don't mean to. The truth is I'm afraid. Afraid of being without my husband. Afraid of the decisions that will have to be made.

For now, I wait...

How This Happened AKA: Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda

Unlike many men, my husband sees out Family Doctor on a regular basis. I insist on it. Unfortunately, now that things are where they are, I realize that he listens but doesn't hear. 

However, like many men, my husband would masturbate occasionally, and in January 2017 when he almost casually mentioned that there was blood in his semen, I was (naturally) alarmed. He was going in to see the doctor anyway, so I had him tell the doctor and he listened, proclaimed it a UTI (urinary tract infection) prescribed antibiotics, and ordered a urine test. This was in spite of me requesting a PSA test. (https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/psa-test/about/pac-20384731) Our doctor said it was way too expensive an often inconclusive. He didn't even give a digital rectal exam. Naturally I was upset, but I thought maybe the doctor knew what he was talking about.

Over the months, my husband's sex drive went lower, and he blamed his age, but, again, I was concerned. The doctor sided with my husband, and I was the odd one out, so I was ignored. After all, the bleeding was no longer taking place, and he was feeling fine. I've watched people who were "feeling fine" die, only to find out that they were seriously ill and didn't know it. I was accused of being an alarmist, but hey! He's my husband, and I was concerned. I mean, how difficult is a PSA test anyway? The doctor did all sorts of other tests on a routine basis, so why not just do it to shut me up? 

Then, just about a year ago, my husband was up every hour urinating. Prostate! I said, Diabetes! said the doctor. Fine, but would it be so difficult to do a PSA test? I hate it when I speak up and I'm ignored like I'm a stupid child. I was beginning to resent the doctor. In January 2018, my husband actually had a UTI. BUT he also mentioned a decreased semen output. Antibiotics again, and the doctor said my husband might need to see a Urologist. In May 2018, my husband again mentioned the deceased semen output, and that it "looked funny." Again he doctor said my husband might need to see a Urologist. My husband was finally starting to see that maybe my concerns weren't so farfetched. Finally, in September 2018, my husband mentioned abdominal pain when urinating and the decreased semen output. The doctor said UTI, and my husband might need to see a Urologist.

At that moment, The heavens opened and an angelic choir sang as my husband told the doctor "You said that the last three times I mentioned this. Can't you just get me a referral?" Okay, so the heavens didn't open, and there was no angelic choir, but it felt that way to me. Two weeks later, on a Friday morning, my husband and I sat down with the Urologist. My husband works graves, and he had just completed his workweek, and he was more surly than usual, so when the Urologist said he wanted an MRI first and didn't do a a digital rectal exam, or order a PSA test, my husband was grouchy about it. I apologized to the Urologist, explained about the graves, and then the Urologist patiently explained why the MRI was done first. Apparently (DUH!) it shows problems quickly, and then, if necessary, a PSA test is done.

What I didn't notice was that the MRI was labeled ASAP. Before we even got home, the MRI people were calling to make an appointment. The following Friday, the MRI was done. On the following Tuesday, we were told another MRI was necessary because the "doctor needed more views" I missed the red flags. I was just happy that something was being done. We waited for the Urologist to call us, but the call never came. Apparently my husband was told to call a week after the MRI but he didn't hear it (he's hard of hearing), and I didn't remember it. He finally went to see our doctor who had his receptionist look into it. She called me the next day, telling me that my husband could only get those results from the Urologist. 



The soonest we could get an appointment was November 30^th so we waited patiently and carried on as if it was any other November/Thanksgiving. Why worry when you can't do anything about something? I'm getting tired now, (I'm a chronic insomniac, and I need a nap) so I'll write about the Urologist visit next time.
                                                              

About Me: Who I Am And A Little Backstory

In everyday life, I prefer to be in the background. I live what some might consider to be an alternative lifestyle, but my neighbors have no idea, and I like it that way. I'm pretty sure that at least a few of the people who work in my local grocery store know, because some things are not that easy to hide.

Anyway, I met my current husband in March of 2013, just about 4 months after the death of my mother in December 2012. He was introduced to me by an acquaintance, but I was busy with a friend, and said hello distractedly.  The funny part of all this is that when he first came in the building, I was assisting at the desk, and he caught my attention. Tall, long blonde hair, and a nice butt. Honestly, I barely even took note of his face. It wasn't until the next day when I read something he wrote that I decided to write him, not even realizing he was the same man I was drooling over when he walked in. Our first official date was June 1, 2013, and I wasn't even sure if it would work out at that point because he was a smoker, and I detest cigarette smoke. Still, he managed to win over my heart, and, before long, we were seeing each other daily in spite of the distance (47 miles on LA Freeways).  He proposed in early July, and I refused, but a week later, I proposed, and we were married in the middle of September 2013. He was also a nonsmoker by then.

Naturally, friends and family were surprised at the rapid pace, but it was right for us. There are no regrets even now as I'm writing this. We have been through many hard times, and we have leaned heavily on each other and supported one another, even when it felt like everything was crumbling down on us. Illnesses, injuries, the death of his mother, even my son having a rare form of cancer that nearly killed him more than once, and then losing our home. We stuck together when others might have decided to run away and divorce. I guess it helps that both of us have a stubborn streak that prevents us from giving up or giving in easily. Oh, we have disagreements, and there are times when he goes silent, but there is Love.

So, now here I am, 57 years old, married to a 62 year old man that I Love, and, in fact, I'd feel lost without him. Don't get me wrong, I have others in my life who I Love, and they are important to me, but they aren't my husband, and all this worry makes me sick. Why am I worried? It looks like he has prostate cancer, and if my calculations are right, it's most likely advanced. How did this happen? I'll save that for my next entry.