Eight years ago I contracted prostate cancer. Had radiation threapy, five days a week for eight weeks. That seemed to take care of it, my PSAs were down it around 0.5 for years.
Just recently, it jumped up to 1.1, then 1.8 within six months, so hied myself back to the urologist for a biopsy. While waiting for that result, which takes ten days (the pathologist must stroke his beard, throw down some chicken bones and contemplate his navel), I got a full bone scan and a CT scan to be sure no cancer had danced its way out of the prostate.
Fortunately, they were clear, and yesterday went back to the urologist, who told me the damned thing had come back. Previously, the oncologist had told me I should probably have brachytherapy (implanting the radioactive seeds), but after looking it up and seeing what was involved, and the after effects, I’m pretty reluctant to try that.
The urologist told me that it is pretty small right now, but the Gleason rating is 7, so it difficult to tell right now what to do. I didn’t like the idea of “watchful waiting” (at my age, they figure I’ll probably die of something else before Old Man Cancer gets me), but as I plan to live to 102, so wasn’t too keen on that.
He reasurred me that might be the best for the time being. Will continue to moniter the PSA every three months and see what happens. He said that to have the seeds implanted might well ruin my quality of life for years, so better to wait and see how it goes. There is a good chance that it won’t grow that much for several years, in which case best to just wait and see. Should PSAs continue to rise , then he might want to do another biopsy (loads of fun), and then consider what therapy to do. He thinks hormone treatments might well be the answer with less problems than other things.
So, anyway, while it is a bummer to have it come back, at least the doc does not want to rush into a treatment, so that is some relief. There are figures out there that many cancer patients can be grateful if they live for five years after treatment and remission, so I guess eight years is not bad. If I can beat it for another eiight, I’ll be 90.
Then, get can get it treated, and another eight years I’ll be 98, and then to hell with it. 
Sorry for venting here, but I don’t like to talk about it with my wife or kids, as don’t want them to get depressed about it. I’m really not down about it. Instead of being depressed, I’m more pissed off. Stupid prostate.
