The shamrock, long a symbol of my Irish heritage, is now best known for its association to St. Patrick’s Day, a holiday that celebrates the inherent joy for life, and beer, felt by the Irish.
In reality, the three-leaf clover means so much more than that. According to finegardening.com, “the shamrock was a sacred plant to the Druids of Ireland because its leaves formed a triad, and three was a mystical number in the Celtic religion, as in many others. St. Patrick used the shamrock in the 5th century to illustrate the doctrine of the Holy Trinity as he introduced Christianity to Ireland. … In the 19th century, it became a symbol of rebellion, and anyone wearing it risked death by hanging.” 1
Suddenly for me, the shamrock means more than a pint of beer followed by another. And another. It’s my blind faith in healing, it symbolizes my roots in the Christian faith that I have long held deeply personal, and it’s a stamp of defiance against the cancer that has taken root inside of me.
I have learned a lot about prostate cancer since I first received a phone call from a helpful insurance agent, surely directed by an angel on his shoulder, warning me that my life insurance application was being rejected because my PSA score of 6.4 commanded immediate medical investigation.
Upon review of my blood test results from another rejected life app two weeks earlier (and done by the same lab), my PSA was just under that six-point alert threshold at 5.5. My PSA number had advanced nearly a full point in two weeks, which is an alarming pace.
On the day that John the Agent called, I not only did not know my PSA number, I also had no clue about PSA numbers at all. I’ve learned much about prostate cancer over the last six months, such as the symbolic ribbon color of prostate cancer is light blue.
I am a writer, a communicator, creator and a man needing focus as all he has so naively taken for granted is threatened by an aggressive form of prostate cancer that has spread and left my medical team racing to get a step ahead of it. So far this cancer is winning this race, but not for long.
I have built a team that is propelling me forward: doctors, medical personnel, family, friends, acquaintances, social media followers, total strangers and readers of this blog. Included in this number is artist Kevin Robel, who designed an inspiring graphic connecting my battle to my association with Kansas State University athletics. He appropriately named this collection of people Team Fightin’ Fitz.
This fight and my team, however, extend well beyond my purple K-State ties. It reaches many, and we’ve just begun.
I vowed to wage my fight in public, and from here forward, I also vow to share the details of my fight, even if unflattering, without hesitation or shame. If I can make one man more comfortable or educated about the topic of prostate cancer and its effects, and it helps his health, it's worth it.
We as men need to face our fears and tackle the topic of prostate cancer with the same bravery that women have shown for years in discussing breast cancer. Knowledge can make us fearless, and brotherhood in this fight will not only make us stronger, it WILL save lives.
And the symbol of my fight, of our fight, from this day forward, will be a Blue Shamrock. It holds great meaning to me on many levels, and I hope you will support me in this new cause of educating men about prostate cancer and the importance of knowing their PSA score.
Men, do you know what a PSA score is? And if you're over 40, do you know your score? Six months ago I could answer both with a "no". I was 53 then, and I'm 54 now. Don't be me, because, men, if you live long enough, you WILL get prostate cancer. So please help us all and spread the word: #PSAknowyourscore
My PSA (prostate-specific antigen) should be zero. After all, I no longer have a prostate. Four weeks after surgery, my PSA was .8, and seven weeks after surgery it was 1.5. That represents a stunning spread of mutated cancerous prostate cells that are now roaming my body.
I began hormone therapy in late August to steal the testosterone that feeds prostate cancer, and after an eight-week period to let the drugs settle in, I will begin radiation therapy. There are no guarantees with any radiation therapy, same as with chemotherapy that is used once cancer metastasizes and spreads throughout the body. Still, we seemingly caught this cancer early, but it’s a tricky foe and one that will not be easy to beat.
My wife, Becky, asked our chosen radiation oncologist, Dr. Martin Bell, the odds of success, and he pulled a paper into view with a percentage boldly displayed.
I stared at the number in shock. Twenty-seven percent. Facing two months of radiation treatments to battle my prostate cancer that has spread to my bladder and possibly places unknown, I knew the road to health would be challenging. I’m ready for the fight, but I also did not expect only a one-in-four chance of this treatment succeeding.
Look, people have faced longer odds against cancer that is both more severe and more progressed than mine, and won, but this is my cancer. It’s inside of me multiplying, only being slowed for the moment by a hormone therapy that will soon reduce my testosterone to “castration levels.”
Castration levels. Incontinence. Chronic rectal bleeding.
This meeting with Dr. Bell featured many phrases and words that were not part of my life six months ago. Luckily I will likely not suffer from incontinence because my healing and ability to manage my bladder are well ahead of schedule, so if the radiation ends my healing, it’s at an acceptable place. And the chances of a, gulp, bleeding rectum are very small, but radiation damages one’s body.
And here is the revelation I have embraced.
I accept it all as a gift. My cancer, my damaged bladder control, my likely permanent erectile dysfunction, ongoing nerve pain and the side effects of the Lupron hormone therapy on my body. All of it is a glorious gift so that I may stand here and plead with my brothers to learn from me. Listen. Know your PSA, and even if you are healthy now, discover a baseline score for the doctors in case this demon comes knocking.
And even if the worse comes to pass, I hope the vision of a blue shamrock will help others pick up the fight and realize it’s time we as men discuss prostate cancer and vow to openly fight together as our brave sisters have shown us how to do.
#PSAknowyourscore … Please.
Keep writin' and fightin', Fitz. You are always an intrrrinter read. I've been delaying a physical for awhile, but today's the day I make the appointment.
ReplyDeleteintrrrinter is clumsy typing for interesting.
DeleteI'll accept intrrrinter as a compliment and make that appointment as a favor to me.
DeleteStay
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DeleteTim we are pulling for you and are adding you and Becky to our prayers. I truly believe a positive spirit is a big plus though not always easy and one that is unaccounted for in the grim stats that are a reality of fighting this dreadful disease.
ReplyDeleteTim.. the K-State family and all who hear of your fight and mission will lift you, your family and your care team up in prayer.. keep your faith.. the Lord has a plan and purpose for all things.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Derek. My blessings are many.
DeleteTim, saw your link on Twitter today from a mutual friend - Coach Underwood. My dad is Jim Kerwin. Not sure if you were in Manhattan when he was there with Coach Altman or not. Anyway, I get an annual physical every year because my dad had prostate cancer many years ago, so I am well versed in PSA levels and understand the importance. Thank you for your transparency and your willingness to spread the word. My profile picture, ironically, is the pair of socks I chose to wear to work today. Coincidence? Doubt it. It's not a blue shamrock, but these socks will now remind me of your fight, and remind me to spread the word as well. Best wishes to you and your team, and I will be following and cheering you on from Arkansas.
ReplyDeleteI remember your dad well. A very good man. I appreciate your support. And it is not wasted. I shall fight like a Wildcat to win this battle.
DeleteTim, I heard the interview you had today with Kevin Kietzman on WHB. I had a radical prostatectomy on July 17th of this year. My elevated PSA was discovered during an annual physical. I am 70 years old by they way, and am in good health, and had no symptoms one would expect with prostate issues. I felt great! I had a biopsy after docs watched my PSA for a couple months, and it went from 5.8 to 6.5. The biopsy disclosed that my Gleason score was 9(very aggressive). Thanks to God the surgeon said the cancer was confined to the prostate, and had not spread. Now I'm dealing with the incontinence and ED that results from the surgery. Docs said the incontinence should show dramatic improvement after three months. That is true to some extent, but still troublesome. I certainly echo your plea for any man over 40 to get a PSA test so they know their baseline. If it's under 4 that's OK. Anything over 4.0 is a warning sign. Also any man facing treatment should seek physical therapy before and after surgery to strengthen their pelvic floor that supports the bladder. I say that again. Seek physical therapy to learn and do Kegel exercises before and after surgery. I'm pulling for you Tim, and look forward to more of your appearances on WHB.
ReplyDeleteBless you for sharing your story. I'm thankful they got your prostate out in time. I am so fortunate to have not faced lingering issues with incontinence like you have. I'm basically down to one or two pads a day based on activity and sneezing. They experimented on me with a product called EpiFix from MiMedx that they wrap around the urethra and nerves at the end of robotic surgery. Maybe that worked. ED is a different story. I'm still recovering after less than three months and am seeing incremental progress, but it's expected that my pending radiation will permanently end that healing. So be it. I'll sacrifice that if I can live and spread our message. Keep fighting, brother. Forward we go.
DeleteTim - I heard your interview yesterday. I am a year out from radical. I was very lucky as my scans were clear and it had not spread. My incontinence went away, so keep fighting. It may seem it will not get better, but it did. I am still dealing with ED. I can relate to your nerve damage. I came out of surgery with numbness in my hand. Finally went to see ortho guy and got tested. Had carpal/ulmar tunnel surgery in Jan. My surgeon kind of poo pooed it, but I think it was from surgery. I will be praying for you and love that you are working to get the word out to other men.
DeleteMine is certainly from surgery. I'm a big guy so they strapped me down extra hard during surgery so I didn't move when positioned prostate up. You can imagine my confusion while waking up and there's no pain in my midsection but I felt like my shoulders were separated. I'm doing great for now and as I tell people, I wouldn't know I had prostate cancer if I didn't know I had prostate cancer. That's why the PSA test probably saved my life. If left to advance a month or two more, I'd almost certainly be at Stage 4.
DeleteI understand. I was really not happy with my primary for sending me to the urologist when my PSA was not much over 4. The next one was a little higher, so back I went. He did a 4K test on me, then biopsy. Gleason score of a 7. I had to call her an apologize. These health professionals are just trying to keep us alive. I am baffled when guys tell me their doctors don't do a PSA or don't believe in it. I tell them they better find new doctor.
DeleteFitz, I've known you since the mid-1980s , when we were both setting out on our sports writing careers. Your impassioned "Life of Fitz" story just shows that a man of your stature is conquering this dreaded disease with a mindset that cannot be defeated.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I have a great deal of clarity about what I'm supposed to do with this unexpected turn in my life's path.
DeleteTim, I just made my way to your blog thanks to direction from Kathy who I believe saw a post on Becky's FB. I partake very minimally in social media outside of the confines of my immediate family, so thanks to our fantastic wives for making me aware. I thank you greatly for unselfishly journaling about your all-out war to recapture your life from the jaws of your particularly relentless manifestation of cancer. I knew that at least two past annual physical exams of mine had included PSA scores and my doctor had not bothered mentioning them, so at the time I made the all-too-common ignorant assumption that the scores were obviously acceptable and didn't even bother to educate myself about it. After reading your blog I immediately looked up those two PSA scores and learned how they measured up on an age-and-race adjusted scale. Thankfully, my scores were both in the acceptable range and nothing to worry about, but now I can count myself among the educated and also stake claims to the awareness that my score had risen over the one year time span between the two. So I will pay special attention to the next score when I'm tested again 6 months from now. All of this thanks to you and your choice to publicly increase awareness through your God-given talents as a writer. Consider Kathy and I members of your extended team, adding our collective positive energies to those of the dozens, or hundreds, or perhaps even thousands by now who all send our healing energies through the hidden channels that permeate the cosmost, not understanding the physics of how this energy flow functions, but no less certain in our belief that it does. You've got this, Fitz.
ReplyDeleteThis is terrific. It's good to know where your score should be in case it ever starts showing up higher.
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