It has been three months since my diagnosis. I met the surgeon who will be performing the procedure. My insurance was tripping because I got three second opinions until I found someone who put me at ease and is proficient at his craft. Yo, I gotta be comfortable with the person cutting on me!
Having waited this long, the surgeon blew me away when he said I’d likely have to wait another three months before he’d have an open slot in his schedule. He told me that prostate cancer is a slow growing cancer, so another three months wouldn’t hurt, plus he’d fit me in if a cancellation came up. In the meantime, he prescribed a medicine that will aid in slowing the growth of the cancer cells. I also have a friend who is hooking me up with some Rick Simpson oil, which is a cannabis based remedy for cancer. It alledgely kills cancer cells! I won’t replace my surgical plans with RSO, but I’m cool with trying a natural remedy that has a good reputation among it’s users.
A friend of mine noticed that I tend to draw inward whenever I’m going through a crisis. Few people know me that well, but since the diagnosis, they are amazed at the bravery I exude through these times. Trust me, there are moments when I read information about post-op recovery and procedures and timelines, and my mood gets dim. The temporary discomfort, inconvenience and possible lingering side effects are unavoidable realities that I have to take into consideration. I’m so glad that I have talked to men who have gone through the procedure, and in each case they said they were fine. The surgeon put me up on his stats for past post-surgical performance on his patients and my anxiety levels went down, down, down, so I can’t help but think of a positive outcome for myself!
Thank God for my sons, too. The best time of my life is watching them have the best time of their lives. Take Brian. He’s my quiet genius. Coming up, I coached him in video games while building his confidence at the same time. “Always be aware of your surroundings,” I’d tell him in first person shooters. “Keep dying, keep trying. Can’t be no crybaby over no video games. It’s just a game. It’s supposed to be fun!” Dying over and over again isn’t a pleasant experience, insightfulIy reasoned, but I get vicariously absorbed into his world, being a product of the video game generation. Evan is the loud genius playing with a Tesla coil, finding science experiments online to do in the kitchen, or eagerly drawing maps of the Metro routes using colored pencils to denote each line, then using his announcer voice to call out all the stops on the lines after finishing his masterpiece. I did similar things as a kid, but I’d get in trouble for mixing vinegar and baking soda to make a volcano. It’s the ultimate guy fest every weekend.
The mad professor at play.
I’ve been blessed to be able to see different parts of the world in the past couple of years, and my appetite for more travel has been whetted, but right now my solace is in the words that I write and time with my sons. The familiarity of family is my buoy in this sea of uncertainty. Even in moments of crisis, I thank God for being in a position to support and love my boys to the fullest, so I’ve been pretty low profile since August. And though I’ve been silent, it’s because I’ve been running deep. Things are happening while I’m grappling with this plight, but I’m resurfacing soon and breaking out of this cocoon.