Test Results

The CT scan results came back quicker than we expected. The NP, case-manager, called up the next day and sounded hesitant. She staggered through telling me that the CT scan showed that there was a bit of a spread out of the breast tissue, of which there is very little in men, and into the neighboring muscle. She tried to make it sound small and unassuming, but she said that this new data would probably change the treatment plan.

At the time, my son was over with his kids, who are 4 and 6, and my wife was in the room listening to the phone call. She started to turn white, and when I told my son, he began to get a bit shaken also. That was kind of sweet to see, but I also don’t like to upset him, especially in front of his kids.

What this means is that since there are signs that the cancer is moving, they will not begin to do surgery until they stop the growth. The kind of cancer I have, which they said is fortunate, is the kind that is driven by hormones, mostly estrogen. Therefore they usually treat it by giving a drug that stops the receptors from taking the hormones, or they use another drug that stops the production of the estrogen. The second drug has not been extensively used with men. Then, if the tumors shrink, as expected, it will be easier, and more effective, to do the surgery.

But, I didn’t know this clearly when I got the phone call. All I knew was that things were not so simple, and maybe they could be pretty bad, if the cancer is spreading. But there was not much to be done. So my wife took my granddaughter shopping, and my son and I took my grandson to see a store with some Christmas train displays which were still set-up. All of us, doing our best to keep going.

All of this feeling even more weird because I really feel fine and have no symptoms besides apprehension and dread.

But then the benefits of the “dead” Obamacare kicked in, with the kinds of medical networks, electronic medical records and HMOs that were set up during the last eight years, especially under Medicare. Within a few hours of the first call, I got another call from the NP, saying that she saw on the schedule that next week I had an appointment scheduled with the surgeon and then one with the oncologist. But she thought it would be much more important to see the oncologist first. But the oncologist was really busy and couldn’t see me next week. Still, she agreed to see me of I would come tomorrow ( which is today).

So, of course we would. We told our son we had to leave early in the morning. By evening his kids were fussy and tired. Instead of pushing them to see more Christmas lights or to go out for dinner, we stayed home and I cooked up some local fish, which was really good and kept me busy.

Then we struggled to get the kids to sleep, and were more successful than I expected. My son and I sat down to watch the Celtics play the Rockets in a game of two of the current best, but struggling teams in the NBA. My boys, and they are boys, the Celtics got off to an awful start, throwing the ball away, and missing easy shots, while the Rockets, with James Harden, were running through them as if they were melted butter. The score was 12–0, and then 40- 22, and at half time it was 62–38, and I was feeling as if my team was just a avatar of my future.

The drubbing continued until the middle of the 3rd quarter, and then the Celtics made a few shots, and the Rockets missed a few. They were down by 13. Then there were a few more and by the end of the quarter they were down 7.

The last quarter was crazy, with steals, fouls, no fouls, technical fouls, and the end was confusing and amazing and the Celtics won by a point 99–98. It showed me that I had to fight on, and not give up or lose hope, A clear example of the kind of magical thinking that goes on when things are really out of control, but we need some way to find meaning in irrelevant events. It worked. I went to bed full of hope.

Today, we got up, packed up the kids, and drove to Boston in the 5 degree weather. I had more blood taken. We had to wait for the doctor because she was really trying to find time to see us even thought her schedule was full. When she finally came in she was patient, clear, and went over everything with us. She showed us all the data they had gotten from all the tests, did a very complete history. She poked my body in all the relevant spots. Told us that this kind of cancer is the kind men usually get and it’s very treatable, but there are still some negative possibilities that need to be “checked-out.” I still need to get a bone-scan and another MRI. It can still get worse, my wife reminded me, as I tend to go with the positive more than she does. All the data isn’t in yet.

The doctor also asked whether I had a support-group of family and friends. She was pleased to see my wife was with me and asking all kinds of questions. I had emailed a couple of groups of my friends, and I have received several clever and warm responses, as well as all kinds of offers for help.

This is very nice, and makes me feel good. It also makes me see how little I ask for help, and how reluctant I am to take it. For reasons that only a Psychologist can explain, I have almost always done things on my own as much as possible. (Oh, right, I am a Psychologist, so maybe I’ll explain it all later). I can see how in many ways that has worked against me in moving through life and solving problems. Yet, I also know that my M.O. has usually been to make lots of mistakes on the way to finding any solution, and that method can be annoying to a lot of people. Yet, for me, when I get there, I feel I know what works, what doesn’t, and what is and isn’t, really well.

But right now I want to figure out how it’s best for me to navigate the next few months.

My wife is, of course, correct that all the data isn’t in, and the picture can get more disturbing and threatening. I want to stay connected. Stay social, keep going out and doing stuff and not start hiding in the corner. As I said, I still have no symptoms and feel strong and healthy, so why not.

Right now, I don’t expect anything new to happen medically until next week. We have plans for New Year’s Eve. I have told most of the people we will be with about the cancer. I will be slightly embarrassed to accept their warm wishes and sympathies, even though I know they are sincere, as I would be.

But, maybe it will be fun.

Funner than staying home and being frightened.