This First Person article is the experience of Winnipegger Adriano Magnifico. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see this FAQ.You can read more First Person articles here.
I watched those TV commercials depicting 1,500 hogs revving up for the annual Prostate Cancer Fight Foundation Ride for Dad fundraiser.
I was always amused by overgrown Movember moustaches that raise awareness and funds for men’s health issues, with a focus on early detection and awareness of prostate cancer.
Nice initiatives. Good luck to them, I thought. Not really on my radar.
It would take my financial adviser to get me thinking more seriously about the health of my prostate.
During one of our financial meetings, he startled me with a story about how he was recovering from prostate cancer with some complications.
Detection starts with a PSA (prostate-specific antigen) blood test, he said. I heard of it, but I had no symptoms, I said.
“Neither did I. Get a PSA test,” he said.
“All right, all right,” I said.
I was caught off guard by my adviser, my friend. That’s a shame, I thought. Sucks that this happened to him.
I thought the odds were in my favour.– Adriano Magnifico
I left our meeting, swearing to follow his advice. I called my family doctor and asked for a PSA test. Two weeks later, my test data revealed an elevated PSA score. I immediately panicked, thinking I had cancer.
I learned that an elevated PSA score doesn’t necessarily mean you have cancer. PSA is a protein made by tissue in the prostate gland and can leak into the bloodstream when the prostate is inflamed, enlarged — or potentially disrupted with cancer.
In fact, the Canadian Cancer Society says that false positives are common — only about one in four abnormal results indicate prostate cancer. Surely I wasn’t one of those four?
I took another PSA test to corroborate the first. Another week passed.
The second PSA test showed the same elevated score. Did I have cancer in my prostate? Was this happening to me? I had no symptoms.
My family doctor set me up with a urologist who ordered a more definitive biopsy. I endured a month of waiting — first for the procedure, then for the results.
The followup meeting delivered the news I never thought I’d hear: “Cancer was detected in your biopsy.”
What? I saw his lips moving, but I started to drift away, a boat slipping its moorings in a dense fog.
My wife, in the room with me, listened intently.
“The results show some cores with cancer.… Some are more aggressive.… This can be cured with treatment…. I’ll connect you to a surgeon and a radiologist.”
Apparently, he was very kind and reassuring.
‘What I don’t know won’t hurt me’
I and many male friends avoid doctors and tests with a “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” mindset.
My father had prostate cancer, my mother had non-Hodgkin lymphoma, and Canadian Cancer Society stats reveal that one in eight men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer. For whatever reason, I thought the odds were in my favour.
I had no idea cancer was lurking within me. My mind raced to two friends who succumbed to prostate cancer. Did they have any symptoms? Did they feel it coming on? How early did they detect it? Did they think it couldn’t happen to them?
With a definitive diagnosis, CancerCare Manitoba clerks, nurses, registered dieticians and doctors sprang into action, organizing my life into scans, imaging, blood tests, screenings and appointments.
Had the scourge metastasized beyond the prostate into other parts of my body? I felt as though black clouds hovered over me, refusing to dissipate as I awaited results from CT scans and images.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when a surgeon and a radiation oncologist determined that the cancer had not metastasized. But there was no time to revel in the outcome. We quickly moved on to the next step.
No more avoiding the doctor.– Adriano Magnifico
Next, a major decision: have surgery to remove the prostate or begin radiation treatment to bombard the infected area. What felt excruciatingly slow now seemed to be moving into overdrive.
I chose the surgery, believing that ripping the blight out of me gave me some modicum of control and allowed a radiation option if needed down the road. My elevated Gleason score numbers, a key indicator from biopsy results, prompted my surgeon to move me up the queue. A little unnerving.
The interminable waiting for test results with life-altering outcomes weighs heavily on my mind. My wife is my consummate cheerleader, buoying my spirits and helping to manage every phase of my cancer journey.
I’m grateful to supportive friends and professionals who shared their inspirational, heart-wrenching and at times oddly humorous prostate cancer stories — everything about how to prepare for the surgery, avoid complicating infections, manoeuvre with a clumsy catheter for two weeks, handle months of humbling stress-induced and involuntary incontinence, relentlessly complete Kegel exercises to rebuild the pelvic floor muscle, mitigate sexual dysfunction and plan for life-altering changes.
My journey is far from over. It likely never will be. Despite a successful surgery from a skilled surgeon and some promising PSA results, radiation and hormone therapy may be in the offing. I know I must vigilantly monitor my health for the rest of my life.
No more avoiding the doctor.
As a charter member of numerous retail senior discount programs, it’s odd that it took my financial adviser, and not my doctor, to advise me to get a PSA test.
Men, I’m passing it forward. Don’t put this off. Take charge. Make the time. It’s just a blood test. Ask your doctor for one.
Hopefully you won’t have to thank me.
