Starting the expedition

Living with Cancer – Decisions

I was first referred to a urologist who told me two things, your prostate is enlarged and based upon a digital examination there was a suspicious nodule growing on my prostate.  This was no highly technical 21^st century cyber cruncher using zeros and ones to digitally evaluate and determine that my prostate was larger than it should be and was hosting tissue that warranted further investigation. 

No this was a digit.  A human finger groping and probing to get a “feel” for the potential that cancer was munching on my tasty prostate.  Why is it that digital breast exams do not involve human digits groping and probing for a feel for potential cancer?

With that probe literally and figuratively behind me we moved on to decisions, decisions.  How to definitively determine what is causing the enlargement and what is the suspicious nodule?  There are two methods, one not quite definitive but helpful, and the other that gets right to the point.  The first one is an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) with contrast and the other a needle.  Both are painless . . . mostly. 

As an experienced investigator, I opted to start with the MRI to determine if we needed to go further with a biopsy.  I had learned to start by not alerting the perpetrator that the game is afoot.  I didn’t want to alert the possible cancer within to the fact that we were on to him.  An MRI seemed the logical next step in this multi-step decision intensive process.

The only pain I suffered was from the big needle they used to insert the dye in my vein.  The dye is the “with contrast” part of the MRI and better enables the doctors to discern the good from the bad.  Otherwise, little pain and as they say, “no pain no gain.”  It only burned a little for a couple of seconds. 

My MRI revealed that I had cancer.   So, another decision, this time for the biopsy.  A transperineal biopsy is performed by inserting a needle in the area between your scrotum and anus.  The perineal is this area and trans means to penetrate it.  

The doctor collects samples from the prostate with the needle.  The doctor is guided by MRI or CT scan to ensure that they’re hitting the right spots.  They collect about a dozen tissue samples from all over your prostate.  Fortunately, I was knocked out through the whole procedure.   There is also a “transrectal biopsy” (TB) and yes, your rectum is penetrated to access your prostate.  A friend had his TB given without anesthetic!  What a tough guy!

The only downside is that you’ve got to pee before you leave the hospital otherwise, they “hose your Joe.”  Hosing your Joe is a forensic term, coined by an E.R. nurse, known only to a few involved in recovering evidence during a homicide investigation years ago. 

Another forensic term used during that investigation involved identifying the perineal as the “taint.” Thank you R.T. the ever intrepid, amazing personality with his vast vocabulary as it “taint your balls or your asshole.”

Back to hosing your Joe . . . when you can’t urinate, they catharize you which means that you are attached to a bag by a hose in the most unconventional of ways.  They hose you and send you home with the bag.  I managed to hide out in my bedroom for the week that Mr. Bag and I were enjoined.

If your prostate has you awakening numerous times throughout the night to feel your way through the darkness to your bathroom the only upside to the bag is that you sleep all night long.  When you awake bright eyed in the morning you do have to empty Mr. Bag.  It is time for Mr. Bag to void.  Looking back, it seems ironic that you can’t but the bag can . . . pee.

Removing the catheter

You get to remove the catheter yourself!  After a week you are becoming attached to your bag which is akin to the Stockholm syndrome where the hostage develops a psychological bond with their captor.   You are, in a sense, held captive by “the bag,” aka Mr. Bag, aka Bagsley, aka Bagster. 

Bagster restricts your travel to locations he knows he will not be identified.  Bagster knows how not to be seen and to quote Monty Python’s John Cleese, “Nobody likes a clever dick.”   You cannot escape him for the fear that you will force more severe urological repercussions.  The thought of anything worse removes any temptation to attempt a premature disentanglement.

When it comes time to escaping your bondage and the confinement to your bedroom you are faced with extricating your abductor yourself.  No Flying Circus to blast Bagsley to smithereens.  No buxom nurse with warm hands.  No one to save you and tell you that everything’s going to be all right.  It’s just you and Bagster . . . and the tube alone together.

Then there is the convenience.  While you are in a disgustingly hideous situation as you watch yellow fluid drain into Bagsley, it is easy.  All you have to do is lie or sit there.  EZPZ lemon squeezy, and you don’t have to squeeze the lemon or shake it either.  Yes, you must escape or be held in Stokholm for-eh-ver.

I have learned whenever I’ve needed to change the brakes on my wife’s car, replace the bushings in my golf cart, or un-hose your Joe there is always YouTube!  And yes, there is a YouTube video demonstrating how to remove your catheter!

So after intently viewing the video, I took Bagster to the showers.  It was time to grip my fears and the tube joining me to Bagsley.  It was time to act.  He who hesitates is lost and I didn’t hesitate to implement my YouTube education.  Oh my God, oh, oh . . . oh thirty seconds later and no pain whatsoever you’re free!  Free at last!  Bye bye Bagster goodbye!  

Next time, the Scan

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