About 12 or 13 years ago, my urologist said that they could find nothing wrong with me (my prostate etc.) after completing an IVP treatment. I was so discouraged for I thought they could find something; a kidney stone, some restriction, or something that could be quickly repaired. I had non-bacterial prostatitis “big time”. I was extremely miserable. Thisurologist suggested a better nutritional approach and relaxation etc., but I took it one step further, which he was not willing to discuss. I got very interested in herbs. I started with Marshmallow root, and then discovered many other herbs that were beneficial. Herbal therapy is something that needs to be thoroughly studied; it’s important that you don’t just mix some herbs in hot water and expect instant results. My cure took years, but the improvement was constant. I had this prostatitis type of a problem in varying degrees for more than 20 years, but was too ashamed or embarrassed to see a doctor. I just lived with it, until it was unbearable. It was wrong for me to do it, and wait so long, but that is what I did.

Later, I linked my urinary problems, lower back pain, loose teeth, gum disease, headaches, prostate cramps, arthritic joint pains, skin rashes, and chest pains to my mercury-silver dental amalgams. After having them removed about six years ago, I’m a new man. I’m now experimenting with cilantro to see if it chelates the mercury further out of my body (you can find more about this discovery on the internet).

To make a long story short a doctor 22-1/2 years ago told me not to run more than a hundred yards, and today I run about 19.5 miles each week. That doctor also told me that I was too old, too fat, and that I should take 10 aspirins a day for the arthritic joint pain.

During the Christmas Holidays last week while I was on vacation, I jogged and hiked 33 miles. And now I’m 50 years old. My urinary problems are almost diminished to the point of being almost completely healed. I’ll never forget the misery, and I thank God every day for this health. It was frustrating for me for about 20 years as I got progressively worse (until I saw my first urologist in about 1987), so I feel for your pain.

Since, it is rare that you would have what I have (but possible), I would first explore a nutritional approach, and see if herbs will work for you after consulting your doctor and doing thorough research. Best of luck.

I have to admit that I have still one health problem. I’m having one 15mm kidney stone pulverized with shock wave therapy tomorrow. That was the first time that I had experienced any kind of a problem like that. Other than that, my very detailed CT scan, and all of my laboratory work showed that I’m in excellent health for an old man!

A better lifestyle with exercise and improved diet decreases your ability to get cancer too, plus a host of other diseases like adult-onset diabetes.

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by Robert Hall (Abilene, KS)

So we have cancer. How do we feel about it? Will we survive it? What if we do? What if we don’t? How will the treatments affect us? Where do we go to get treatment? Did these questions go through your mind when you were diagnosed? I hope so.

I was diagnosed with Testicular Cancer in October, 1995 at the age of 32. Today is February, 28th, 1998. I am not cured……..yet. Here is my story. I am a mechanic by trade. In 1994, I started on my way selling a very popular tool, with big dreams of big money. Sorry to say, it didn’t work out. I went broke instead. I returned home, a little overweight, and a little apprehensive about going back to my old job at the Ford dealership. Embarrassed? Not at all. Though not a “natural” mechanic, I was none the less good at what I did. Since I was a little pissed off at some of the things that happened before I left, I decided that, though I really wanted to return to work there, I would wait for them to call me. So I took a job making donuts in my Mother’s store. Put on a few more pounds. After nine months on the job, I discovered that if my Mother and I were to remain friends, I had to get out of there. So I took a job in the Ford dealership in the next town over. Then the phone calls started.

“Hey Bob, come back to work.” About two months into the job, I started having pain in my lower back. For the first week, I also had an abdominal pain that felt much like stomach flu, with out the other flu symptoms. Being a guy, and being a mechanic, I figured what ever it was, it’ll go away in a few days if not sooner. I thought it strange that my back did not bother me at work, but only when I was home relaxing or sleeping.

During this time, I was steadily losing weight. Again, I was not concerned. After all, I had returned to a manual labor job, it was summer, and I wasn’t eating donuts and fast food all the time. After about two weeks of back pain, I decided that I must’ve pulled something at work, but I really should have it looked at because I usually heal faster than that when I hurt myself. So off I went to my doctor. I told him about the back pain, and the weight loss, and the temporary abdominal pains in the beginning. After telling the circumstances, and why I thought I was losing weight, the Doc made the decision that I had pulled some back muscles at work. Since the abdominal pains had gone away, he was not too concerned about them. What if he had me lay back and pressed on my abdomen? It only takes a minute. Would he have felt the tumor growing there? Who knows. Doesn’t matter now.

Anyway we went to work on the back pain with painkillers and muscle relaxers. He sent me on my way, advising me that if it wasn’t cleared up in a week, he wanted me back in his office for another look. Well it didn’t go away. Being a guy, I figured, what the hell, it’ll clear up before too long. After a month of fitful sleep, I thought I had better get on back to the doc. Again, painkillers and muscle relaxers, a ct-scan of my spine (which showed nothing) and a little physical therapy. The pain continued. And so did the phone calls.

I finally worked out the best deal for salary and benefits that I thought I could, and returned to work at my original dealership. While filling out the health and disability application forms, I was required to sign a rider on the disability policy that anything regarding a back problem would not be covered. I did. And now I had a disability plan in effect that, being a guy, I figured I would never need.

So everything is going along fine now, I’m at work, I’m making pretty good money, and the extra weight has come off and plateaued at my normal body weight. Of course my mother thought something was wrong. Too much weight to lose in so short a time. And the back pain continued. Then one day I discovered that my abdominal muscles felt a little “tight”. I would lay on the bed and try to stretch them a little. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel right either. Being a guy, again, I didn’t give it much thought. Then one day, I was laying there doing my little “stretch” and got to feeling and probing. I asked my wife to feel how tight my muscles felt. We both agreed that it was weird. Being a guy…….

Shortly after that is when it really happened, on a Thursday. I had been having abdominal pains all morning at work. Being a guy, I figured lunch would settle them down a little. Returning to work after lunch, I only felt worse, so I left for home. The guy thing again?

I was halfway home when I finally swallowed my guy pride and I turned around and went to the emergency room at my local hospital. Now we were getting somewhere. The ER Doc didn’t like what he felt and ordered an ultrasound. Viewing those results, he next ordered a ct-scan., Then I was sent upstairs to talk to the surgeon. I answered questions about lumps, and night sweats, and lots of things that I hadn’t experienced.

They finally explained that I had a large “mass” about the size (but not the shape of) a football. By now, my wife, who worked at the hospital, was there with me. Unbeknown’st to me, she had already called Mom and told her and Dad that I was in the emergency room. When I finally walked out of the hospital with appointments for the following week, everyone in my family was there waiting, full of questions.

It seemed that I was the only one not upset by what was going on. So the following week, I go to another hospital for a biopsy of the tumor, and an appointment with Dr. Jean Liesmann, Topeka, KS, who would become my oncologist.

Ok, so it’s a germ cell tumor with an abdominal presentation. It has a better than sixty percent cure rate. Cool! So were going to do a surgery and cut it out……….NOT. This apparently is not the best way to approach this kind of cancer. While the AFP is only a little over three hundred, the mass is quite large. We need to do some chemotherapy to shrink it down before we go in after it.

Ok, cool, again. So we’ll do chemo, followed by surgery, and then it’ll be gone. That guy mentality again! By the time I arrive to start my chemotherapy, I have not eaten the equivalent of a whole meal in at least a week, just couldn’t eat, felt like I was full all of the time. My AFP has all of a sudden jumped to over twenty-one thousand. I do the first week of chemo in-patient. I can’t eat a thing in the hospital either. By the end of that week, I’ve lost a total of sixty pounds, but I feel good because the chemo barely affected me. Very little nausea, and the back pain has finally gone away!

I did a six week regimen of five days of treatment followed by twenty-one days of rest. The AFP had normalized after the second round. I also spent three days in the hospital with pneumonia, about halfway through. So now the tumor has shrunk to the size of two balled up fists and we’re getting ready for surgery. Dr’s Charles Bollman and Scott Stevens, Junction City, KS, performed a seven hour surgery to cut away the remaining mass. (A note here: while being prepped for surgery, they had started with the anesthesia. I woke up to find two good looking nurses shaving my nether regions. Guys, this alone is almost worth the trouble!)

So I wake up in ICU, with a scar from here to there and hoses coming out of just about every hole in my body. Now it’s recovery time. One of the first things I receive in the hospital is a big basket of fruit. But it will be almost two weeks before I am allowed to eat solid food. I am told that the tumor had penetrated the wall of my inferior Vena Cava, and it could not be saved, as well as the nerves that control my plumbing. Cool, a small price to pay. Geeze, that guy mentality!!

Shortly before leaving the hospital, I have slight pain in my legs while walking around, but home I go. Three days later I can’t walk. So back I go. Both legs full of blood clots, due to the reduced return rate to my heart. This because of the lack of a portion of my Vena Cava. Another two weeks in the hospital. Finally I can walk again. AFP is still normal, the tumor had no live cells in it, everything is looking up.

“Hey Bob, we want to cut out your right testicle.” “What? What the hell for?” Ok, so they need to remove it and make sure that it will not produce another cancer. Fine, cut it out then, a small price to pay. As it turns out, very small. Dr. Liesmann had informed me earlier that, on occasion, this type of chemo my cause the testicles to shrink. Well, alright, a small price to pay. But if you tell everyone that, you may soon be out of business.

So the testicle is removed and tested after several ultra-sounds. Guess what………..nada, nothing, zero, no disease found there. Better safe than sorry. A small price to pay. I opt to have a prosthetic put in the same day. Guy’s, avoid this if you can. It was not pleasant and I had it removed later.

So now my hair has grown back, my weight has come back up to 195, and I look and feel good. The AFP has stayed normal, and I do a blood test every two weeks to make sure. Until November of ninety six. oops! The AFP has gone up a few notches. We’ll watch it for a test or two. It’s gone up some more. “Bob, we need to do some more chemo.” “Well, we gotta do what we gotta do, right?” So we schedule another four rounds of chemo, the AFP doesn’t normalize until after the third one. But normalize it does. Cool, just a little scare is all. You guessed it…….the guy thing again.

By now it’s march of ninety seven, and the AFP is up once again. “Bob, we want you to go to Indianapolis, have a bone marrow transplant.” “Bone marrow transplant? That doesn’t sound fun at all.” It’s cool though, a small price to pay.

So off I go to Indy, big hospital, lots of good folks there. By the way guys, if you have to go there, check with your local American Cancer Society about staying at the ACS Hope Lodge in Indianapolis. Truly great folks there too! Cindy Paquin is the lodge manager, and she is quite a gal. Tell her Bob sent ya, and give her a hug for me!

So the first Doc I meet is Dr. Steven Williams, and his first word are encouraging. “Well, I think we can cure ya.” “Cool!” Soon I learn just what an autologous bone marrow transplant is. Every thing is in place and we’re ready to go. We’re gonna spend about 3 or 4 days doing stem cell rescue, then a day or two off and then we get admitted to start the procedure. Gonna be in the hospital for 17 days. Cool, I don’t like it, but it’s a small price to pay.

Now I’m in the hospital receiving high dose chemotherapy. My immune system is all but gone and I’m in a room all by myself. The Doctors and Staff are great! Dr’s Williams and Einhorn visit from time to time. But the brightest ray of sunshine is Laurie, the daytime medical secretary. A great little gal that I am proud to know.

So here is the plan. I receive three days of high dose chemotherapy followed by two days of rest. Then I get my stem cells back on day five. Then it’s about twelve days for my immune system recovery, then released for ten days of rest and then we do it again. My body handles the treatment so well, that they try something different. They release me on day 11. This is great! Got out early, but I still have to wear a mask around. More blood tests. Guess what? AFP did not normalize as expected. “So now what?” “Go home. Lets watch it for a while and see if it comes down.” Cool, I get to go home.

About two and a half weeks later, my AFP has not normalized, but it has come down by more than half. So back to Indy I go, and another treatment. By the time I arrive, AFP is back to where it started from. Wow! It’s going so good. Dr’s Abonour and Cornetta are pleased and somewhat amazed with the way my body seems to eat up this chemo, and the lack of negative reaction to it. I am released on day six, the day after my stem cells are returned to me. Unheard of till now!

This time, the AFP doesn’t even budge. “Bob, we’re up against serious odds now.” “Well that’s not cool, what do we do next?” I head home, bad news for the family. We are waiting for another tumor to grow large enough to show up on the ct-scan. Hopefully, it will appear where we can surgically remove it, and attack it that way. Dr. Liesmann assures me that whatever happens, she will continue treatment on me until there is a conclusion.

I am not allowed to return to work, so I am sitting home, bored out of my skull. I do blood tests every two weeks and a ct-scan every two months. I wish something would happen. I had another ct-scan yesterday, Feb. 20th, 98. I got more than I wished for. The scan shows disease in both lungs, a small spot in my liver and the lymph nodes along my aorta. Everybody is upset again. “Why you Bob?” “Well why not me, I’m nobody special.”

I am not happy about what is going on with my body, neither am I upset about it. It’s just one of life’s little curve balls. And I figure “what the hell, if I have this disease at the age of 34, just maybe, somewhere in the world, some kid will not get it. It’s a small price to pay.”

Related posts:

1. Testicular Cancer: I Am a Survivor
2. Surviving Mesothelioma
3. Growing Up With Cancer

by Captain Edward J. Wilson

T2,Nl,MO: Are these the codes for the engine stages on the Boeing 737-900? No, they are the codes that describe the stages for my breast cancer.

I am a 56 year old male airline pilot who recently underwent a left modified radical mastectomy for breast cancer.

While on a layover, I felt a stinging sensation under my left nipple. The sensation around my nipple disappeared the following day. A few months later I felt hardness in the same area, but it was not permanent. I inquired to my doctor about this problem. He informed me that it might be a condition called gynecomastia-enlargement of male breast tissue.

On my next physical I told my doctor that I wanted the tissue removed. I had the tissue removed and felt fine with just a little soreness under my nipple area. The following week I learned that the pathology report indicated cancerous cells. The news of this report was numbing and overwhelming. The report surprised my doctor, and he wanted to proceed with surgery as soon as possible. My first reaction was that I needed sometime to comprehend all of this, and I wanted to consult with other specialists regarding my cancer. The diagnosis revealed infiltrating ductal carcinoma, the most common type of breast cancer.

During the next two weeks I had several consultations with doctors and an oncologist regarding my case. The hardest day for me was the day that I went to pick up my pathology results from the lab. When I received the slides, I remember feeling the weight of a bowling ball in my hands. I went to my car and just sat for several minutes. The slides had a case number for identification, and I knew that this number was mine.

I underwent the modified radical mastectomy, and kept thinking about this very big word- MASTECTOMY, and what it meant. How would I look, and would I feel different? The surgery itself was fast and my entire family was there for support. The surgeons removed all of the remaining cancerous area along with five lymph nodes. Only one of the nodes was positive.

Once the surgery was complete, the road to recovery began. With the cancer removed and the pathology report verified, treatment options followed. My treatments consisted of 12 weeks of chemotherapy using two drugs, followed by 12 weeks with a different drug, in three-week intervals. My test revealed that I was estrogen receptor-positive. Approximately 85 percent of all male breast cancers are positive for this hormone. I continue with hormone therapy to help block the effects of estrogen in my body. An oncologist determined that I was not a candidate for radiation therapy.

The actor Richard Roundtree “Shaft,” underwent a mastectomy several years ago and has spoken about male breast cancer on several talk shows. His article in the April 24, 2000, issue of People magazine is a very interesting one. I have had the pleasure of corresponding with Mr. Roundtree via e-mail and telephone.

Male Breast Cancer is rare, but not as rare as one would think. I have been fortunate and will attest that; faith, family, and friends have been the cornerstone to my recovery.

This is my case; do not let it be yours. Early detection is the key!!!

Related posts:

1. Surviving Mesothelioma
2. Cancer, The Silent Killer

by Dale

I am a survivor. My name is Dale and this is my story of the heart-breaking theme of cancer, the silent killer. It affects you in a life altering or life ending way but also reaches past and crushes your loved ones. You do not think of life in terms of those little falling granules of time left in that hourglass that nothing but time can stop. You then realize that time is going by at an accelerated speed after you get your awful diagnosis. That is when I realized that if I lost the good fight I really had no place to even be interred. I reflected that there had been plenty of time. I cried when I thought about it. It was now time to cowboy up and get things done so that others would not have to suffer due to your loss. I fired up the computer and updated my will and developed my Advanced Care Directives. Being in the Emergency Medical Field for thirty years makes you plan for the worse and hope for the best.

But wait, I just got a check-up a year ago and, during that same visit, confided in my family physician that there was a problem. I said, specifically, that in the morning when I emptied my bladder it came out like a lawn sprinkler instead of a good, steady stream as it should. Did my doctor take the easy way out? And instead of checking my PSAs he suggested that I go onto a regimen of zinc. I had never heard of the Prostate Specific Antigen count and what it could be used to diagnose. Nope, I trusted my doctor and followed those orders. Often times it seemed to work but oh too often I was disappointed. Should he have considered total patient care? Was he just overwhelmed by the workload? I have paid for that lack in judgment with a more invasive surgery than I would have had to endure had this physician, sworn to uphold the Hippocratic oath, requested this simple test at that time.

Oops, I got off the beaten track and onto a healing process referred to as anger. This time, a year later, when I scheduled for an annual exam I wanted to get a second opinion and opted for another doctor who made up the association of physicians in this local office. I thought that she would come back to me stating that I had a simple prostate problem. She referred me to a urologist and that still didn’t throw up the big red cancer flag. You see, I’ve hardly ever been sick because I take great care of this life form where my spirit resides. What? This urologist wants a biopsy? This is where things began to get a little scary but the “C” word still never entered my mind. Now the urologist wanted to see me but not without my wife. Something was very terrible here!

This very patient man was realizing that this guy in front of him who had taken care of thousands of patients and had been through those hospital doors thousands of times never had to remain behind as a hospital guest. And now the good doctor had to tell him and his wife the awful news. He did realize that this surgery could have been done the old fashioned way. Or he could refer this quiet, still in shock, patient to the best Robotic Surgeon in the world. He put his ego aside and requested that my wife I make an appointment to see this remarkable surgeon so that we could make an informed decision. The good doctor gave us a simple explanation as to procedure and recovery time.

Can you believe that in this time and age of our existence that they can send little robot arms inside you to mine out the cancerous tissue? This is what your money is spent on every time you donate to cancer research. Boy, am I glad I put my money where my mouth was when it came time to write that donation check! Instead of an extended stay with possibilities of infection due to the large incision that was part and parcel of the old version of prostate removal my wife and I had an overnight stay and left in the morning with five tiny holes in my abdomen. I had a pump on one side to aid in fluid removal and a pain pump on the other side. I was able to remove the extra hardware on my own once I got home and the medication completed its course. I spent the next couple of weeks walking through the neighborhood, strengthening those abdominal muscles.

A point that should be added is that I spent those six weeks prior to surgery working out and getting strong at the gym. Without my trainer recovery time would have taken six weeks instead of four. I was willing and able to go back to work after only three weeks but because boys will be boys my surgeon would not sign a release until my fourth week into recovery. He knew that accidents could happen at work to undo all of the magic he performed. I am back in the gym working on getting back into pre surgery shape. Six weeks can work wonders against you. I am a really vane guy and probably a terrible patient! At 58 years old, two days before surgery, I completed a half marathon in the Relay For Life, one of the non-profit organizations that gets my volunteering hours.

I have just completed a blood draw for my first PSA check after surgery and came back with glowing results. Due to the added year of cancer this growth found its way through the prostate wall. This was not known until those little robots got in and looked around. It was like search and recovery! Extra tissue had to be removed with a lymph node or two to be sure that all cancerous material was extracted. Prior to this and until surgery I had pictured this cancer to be like a cluster of maggots eating away at me with a colony growing day by day. How morbid can one guy get?

I haven’t trained in over two years but I think I’m ready to do another Walt Disney World Marathon. Leukemia is another leader in world population reduction. This is the fundraiser I choose to work for during that event. I could have a turn for the worse at any given time but for now it is my intention to keep the family a little closer and complete some of those dreams that are tangible. Life is shorter than you might realize.

Related posts:

1. Surviving Testicular Cancer
2. Growing Up With Cancer
3. Testicular Cancer: I Am a Survivor

by Chris Anderson
Portland, Oregon, United States

I survived it in 1994. The same thing Lance Armstrong (multiple Tour De France winner) had. Personally, I dont care for his public service announcements, making him sound like he did something great by surviving it. I was lucky enough to have the head of oncology at Chapel Hill, N. Carolina as my primary physician when I was admitted and he told me that there is a 95% cure rate. If it was 50/50 and Lance survived, that would be something. But not with a 95% cure rate.

Anyway, I was diagnosed in mid ’94 by a local doctor who told me that if I didn’t do something soon, I wouldn’t see Christmas (about 3 months away). I had lived with the symptoms for maybe 6 months. Hoping it was nothing serious and would go away on it’s own. (I didn’t know what it was at that time)

Long story short, I was told that if the cancer had reached my kidney, there would be no stopping it. And about every inch up my ureter was a nodule.

Well 4 rounds of chemo and 12 hours of surgery later, I walked out of the hospital.

I never thought about my sex life afterward but in a way, this has made it better. Everything works fine for me. The only difference is that I have no discharge, and it takes a little while longer to reach ******.

But on a lighter note: Remember all those things you said you’d give your left *** for? Well, I did, and I’m still waiting

If you’re in this situation, don’t put it off. Get checked out. It won’t go away on it’s own. The symptoms are pain/swelling in one or both testicles. Usually it strikes men in their late 20′s to mid 30′s.

Note: whatever side you lose, try carrying some spare change in the opposite pocket. It’ll balance you out and stop you from leaning… lol.

Related posts:

1. Surviving Testicular Cancer
2. Coping With Vaginal Cancer

When I was a boy, my dad told me that three things are inevitable in our family: death, taxes, and male pattern baldness. Like most sons, I’m forever trying to prove him wrong. That’s why, 30 years later, I decided to get a hair transplant.

But not any old hair transplant. Certainly not one like my buddy Brad’s — he wound up with unsightly clumps sprouting from his scalp. Nor one like friend John’s, which led to days of suffering: “The anesthesia made my face swell up like Quasimodo,” he says.

I ended up in the Miami offices of Dr. Jeffrey Epstein, who uses a technique so new, he says, that fewer than 100 doctors offer it nationwide. Even better, Epstein uses a tool that greatly reduces pain and swelling.

After I settle into a comfy chair (and the Valium kicks in), Epstein carves a thin, hairy chunk of scalp from the back of my head. Technicians then dissect out hundreds of hair follicles — which look like tiny lumps of skin surrounded by rings of fat — each capable of growing up to four hairs.

Next, Epstein pricks my noggin with a high-tech wand that delivers a precise amount of anesthesia. I barely feel a thing when he takes jeweler’s forceps and begins implanting the follicles one by one like daisies. Over 5 hours, Epstein implants some 1,923 follicles that should generate 4,483 new hairs.

Only question left: Will it work? I’ll know in five months, as the new follicles settle in. Firsthand will monitor my beezer for a few issues to see what happens. So will my dad.

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