For those who have been monitoring this website, you may have noticed that the number of blogs posted has diminished this past week. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer a couple of months ago, and I have since been busy taking steps to combat my cancer.
The love and concern shown to me by my family, relatives, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances have been overwhelming. Hardly a day goes by without someone asking me, "How do you feel?" Due to the frequency of the inquiries and the length of time it takes to respond to them, I will start referring people to this blog when they ask, "how do you feel?"
A couple of weeks ago, I went through an operation to remove my prostate, and however, after the doctor made the incision, he found microscopic traces of cancer cells in my lymph nodes. The way I understand it, my prostate cancer cannot kill me unless it has reached one of my vital organs (heart, liver, lungs, etc.). The doctor told me that my cancer had not. What is troubling, however, is my PSA level was 26.8. A PSA level of 20 or more is usually a strong indicator that cancer has spread, hence the radiation treatment. However, other than microscopic traces of cancer in my lymph nodes, there are no other signs that cancer has spread. But I do not know for sure; only time will tell.
After my operation, the doctor sent me to the Altru Cancer Center. I met with Dr. Winchester, and he told me I would have to undergo 37 radiation treatments. Because I am from out of town, he made it easy on me by letting me pick the times of the 15-minute treatments. In preparation for my treatments, I had my body tattooed (among other things) or mapped so technicians would know what area of my body to expose to radiation. We agreed my radiation treatments would start on November 17, and I will have a total of 37 treatments with weekends, Thanksgiving, and Christmas days off.
November 17, the date of my first treatment, has come and gone, so I have already started my radiation treatments. My weekly radiation schedule is Monday afternoons at 4:00; I spend Monday nights in Grand Forks; my Tuesday treatment is at 9:00 in the morning, after which I drive home. I return Wednesday afternoon for a 4:00 PM treatment, then spend the night in Grand Forks. Thursday, my treatment is at 9:00 AM, and I drive home. Friday, I return for my final weekly treatment at 4:00 PM.
Two colleagues of mine, Dr. Garl Rieki and his wife, Dr. Judy Rieki, have generously offered me the use of their spare bedroom in their basement (at no cost to me, I might add) until December 10, when they move to Minneapolis. After that, I will rent a motel room for the remaining four weeks of my treatments.
I have done much research on prostate cancer, and what I found makes me highly optimistic. First, I am not alone. Most men, if they live long enough, most men will experience prostate cancer. Second, most prostate cancer is slow growing and highly curable. Third, many friends and acquaintances have told me they know someone who has prostate cancer and is doing well. My old friend and mentor, Dr. Berg, who came to visit me last week, reminded me he had prostate cancer and received radiation treatment for it. That was 20 years ago, and he is still reasonably healthy.
Naturally, I wanted to find out my chances of surviving prostate cancer, so I searched the web for statistics. Here are excerpts from an article titled, Prostate Cancer Key Statistics, from the American Cancer Society, 2008.
I felt much better about my chances of survival after reading this article - of course, there is still the uncertainty of not knowing if my cancer has spread to other parts of my body.
This past week I was invited to speak at a pow-wow about my cancer. The other two speakers were cancer survivors. When they finished, I stood and spoke. I have tried to recreate my speech below. Although I have added to what I said at the pow-wow, the central message is the same. Here is what I said.
I am honored to speak today. The other two speakers talked about surviving cancer. Because I was recently diagnosed with cancer, I cannot talk about surviving cancer today. Maybe in five years, I will be able to.
My first reaction to discovering my cancer was shocking. My subsequent reaction was disbelief and denial. I thought it couldn't be true. After reality set in, my immediate thought was a quick trip to the doctor, and everything will be all right. However, when I went online and read up on prostate cancer, I realized I still had to undergo an operation to remove my prostate, which would result in all kinds of nasty side effects. The doctor did not take my prostate; instead, I would undergo radiation treatment. The surgeon removed 25 lymph nodes during the procedure and sent them to the lab. Two lymph nodes had microscopic traces of cancer
The hardest part was telling my children. What I dislike most about my cancer is not the fact I might eventually die from it or the side effects that result from it, but the sorrow and sadness it has caused my children. I am not scared to go to the Spirit World. Why should I be? My son, my mother, and my relatives are there. However, I understand my children love me very much. My children are taking the news hard. They expect me to live forever.
I think my children did not understand my reaction, or maybe my lack of response, when I first discovered, I had cancer and then my seemingly calm acceptance of the news that it had spread to the lymph nodes. But they do not understand that when I grew up, most adults did not live past sixty. So, I never expected to live long, either. The way I see it, if cancer kills me, I will be living out my average life span. I do not want to go to the Spirit World until I have lived another 15 - 20 years. However, due to a broken back, I am partially paralyzed on my left side, and my disability may worsen as I grow older, something I dread. So what are a few years, more or less, when you're old?
A saying goes like this: "Life is a bitch, then you die." Well, my life hasn't been a bitch. Sure I had my ups and downs, but the Wakan Takan has given me a wonderful life and many blessings, and I can't complain. I have four wonderful children and many beautiful grandchildren. I have been a third-grade teacher, a GED instructor, a tribal college academic dean, and a college president. I was the first Spirit Lake tribal member born and raised on the Spirit Lake reservation to receive a doctorate. Four years ago, Dr. AnnMaria De Mars, my sister, April, and I founded Spirit Lake Consulting, of which I am now the sole owner. I can't and won't complain now that I have cancer. To feel sorry for me and get angry is to disrespect the Creator and all the blessings he has given me throughout my life.
I want to say I have received nothing but positive support from my family, friends, relatives, and tribal members. Indians are the most generous of all people. Their kindness, sympathy, and generosity are overwhelming. How can I feel sorry for myself with so many people demonstrating their support for me?
In closing, I have a firm belief in Wakan Tanka. Wakan Tanka does not make mistakes. My faith in Wakan Tanka helps me accept the good with the bad. I enjoy life when it is good, persevere when life is rough, and my faith in Wakan Tanka will help me accept whatever direction my cancer takes.
Thank you for inviting me to speak to you today.
I am happy my radiation treatments have started. I am anxious to put them behind me.
