For several weeks now I've been dealing with a pain that can be approximately described as if my back has gone out. It hurts to sit. It sometimes hurts to roll over in bed. If I move wrong, such as bending over to spit my toothpaste into the sink, it can feel like a knife being stuck in my back. All that said, I've also managed to carry the window A/C unit down two flights of stairs and go on a 4 mile run so not all activities cause pain, at least if I don't overdo them.
Ibuprofen and/or acetaminophen help, but bring up the prospect of doing too much, and being in a world of hurt when they wear off. Last night when I tried to go to bed I had severe pain from my back all the way down my right leg to the foot. That strongly implies a nerve is getting pinched somewhere.
This pain is best explained by the CT scan results. I had mentioned earlier that my cancer has spread. Let me see if I can tell you the bad news in a good way:
Imagine you're watching a cheesy animated high school science film about prostate cancer. The tumor is depicted as a busy bustling city in the prostate. There's lots of animated anthropomorphic cancer cells. Most have that silly happy grin that cartoon characters like to have. However a few are sad, and becoming disenchanted with city life, so they pack up their suitcases and decide to go on a cruise.
There are only a handful of cruise ships to choose from and they sail the bloodstream and lymphatic system to a relatively small number of destinations. These vacationing bastards decides to move to my vertebrae, where they proceed to interfere with the normal turnover of bone tissue. This can have all the expected effects of pain, inflammation, and pinching of nerves.
The point of this silly analogy is that while prostate cancer can spread, it usually spreads to very specific spots, and my CT scan was consistent with this. There are bone lesions in my hip and back, and apparently one very swollen lymph node (assuming I understand the medical jargon in the summary). This explains the pain I have and continue to feel.
And now the tricky part: viewing this revelation as a good thing. My advanced cancer wasn't caused by the CT scan, though honestly it feels that way much of the time. It's just never easy to find out that your most hypochondriac thoughts weren't anxiety, but were actually a pretty accurate assessment.
So here's the interesting thing that I didn't know before: Prostate cancer in the bone isn't bone cancer, it's still prostate cancer. This means it's still affected by any treatment that targets prostate cancer. For example, denying testosterone will stunt the growth of the cancer cells, and I've already had an injection of Eligard that will do just that. There are also radiation treatments that selectively seek out the weakened areas of bone where the cancer is located, and I'm hoping the oncologist will agree that that's a good option for me.
So now those vacationing cancer cells have arrived at their vacation destination to find they're no longer in a cheesy science film, but in a cruel Monty Python animation. There's no food at the destination, and a bright sun radiating down on them, and gosh darn it they forgot their sunscreen. They're starving, listless, and sunburnt. Suffer and die you little assholes. May you be squashed by a big bare foot descending from the top of the screen.
Obviously, I've been doing some research on the web about my condition. It's a difficult balancing act. It's very easy to have a positive attitude if I'm not reading about cancer and not having any observable symptoms. It's diabolically difficult when it hurts to simply sit in a chair, and I'm reading about how easy it can be to actually die from this, and how unpleasant the treatments can be.
It's important to do research to understand the disease, what's happening to me, and what are the options for fixing it. But it can also be extremely depressing and stressful. So many people have reached out to me to offer their support. Please please please continue to do this! Get ready for a long drawn out fight. Be ready for me to withdraw into myself at times and when I do, slap me out of it.
There is much reason for hope! The CT scan notes that the vital organs in my abdomen are normal. To my mind, this means the cancer hasn't moved into any areas that will immediately kill me. It also means my kidney and liver are up to the task of dealing with the treatment regimen (they have to break down and eliminate the drugs after they've done their job). I'm also starting out with strong bones and a reasonable amount of lean mass and fat mass. In short, I am strong where I need to be to withstand treatment.
Let's beat this!
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