Travelogue: After the medical discharge
About six weeks ago I had to undergo a radical prostatectomy to remove my cancer filled prostate. According to the surgeon, the surgery went well and a week afterward he discharged me, said to come back in 2 months for follow-up blood work.
At that time, I sent a group text message to friends and acquaintances to inform them that things “went well”. Presumably most of these friends and acquaintances were thrilled to hear that “things went well” and happily put any concerns or thoughts (if there ever were any) about me on a back burner and went on with their lives. Because, honestly, it probably is easier. I would like to share some incidentals, some observations, and my own experiences.
However, a couple of people wanted to make sure that I was doing okay and stayed in touch. Perhaps they regret it, because they’re the ones who got to hear the blow-by-blow account of the physical pain, the nausea, the exhaustion, and my mental anguish. However, they were the bright light and encouragement that kept me motivated to move through the issues.
Things actually didn’t go so well. 9 days after the surgery I developed a bladder infection that honestly knocked me on my ass for nearly a week. Around the same time, I also developed really painful ulcerations on my genitals (or, to put it bluntly, open sores on my penis). The only friends and acquaintances who knew about these developments were those who bothered to remain in touch by phone, text or email.
The lesson that I learned from this is that in the future, when a friend is going through a rough patch, physically or otherwise, I want to remain there for them. It might not be the most convenient or pleasant experience, but that’s what being a caring human should be about.
We live in the “digital age” lacking interpersonal contact and often the empathy that comes with it, and I’m really sorry about that. (Most of the people who receive this missive probably won’t read it, because it’s “too long”). I did receive two cards, one with a very thoughtful gift, and a beautiful orchid plant. In the old days there likely would have been some flowers, more cards, perhaps some telephone calls. I would very much have appreciated that, because those things take a little time and effort, which to my old-fashioned thinking equates to actually caring. “How are you doing?” text messages, which take seconds to compose, type and send might or might not imply actual concern or interest. Particularly when prefaced by “I’m doing something fabulous, and by the way…”
The lesson for me, in the future, do the things that I missed receiving. It might involve asking for a physical mailing address (yes, another step that takes time and effort!), it will involve spending some money, if for nothing other than a postage stamp. But I know that it will make somebody else’s day brighter and happier.
Some of my friends consider themselves very religious in a Christian way, and perhaps they do pray daily. Perhaps they strongly feel the benefit of such efforts. It is not my intention in any way to belittle such activities. However, given the number of times that we hear “We’ll pray for the shooting victims” and other such platitudes, I struggle with generic “I’ll pray for you” comments. Perhaps something more specific, like “every morning when I wake at 7, I’ll pray for your good outcome and perhaps you’ll be able to sense that energy”, or “the next time I light a candle, I’ll attach your name to it”. Again, I realize that some of you reading this might have included me in your prayers, and if so, I do appreciate it.
My lesson is to probably refrain from saying “I’ll send healing energy your way” (which is my form of “I’ll pray for you”) if I’m actually not planning to do anything specific about it. As I write this, I will admit, that I have often been guilty of using this statement as an ‘out’, not intending to spend time and effort “sending energy”.
After my diagnosis, well meaning people were saying things like “well you’re lucky, prostate cancer is easily cured”. Yes and no. There are various forms of prostate cancer, some (the majority) is fairly “benign”, and the only treatment is observation. However, there are “aggressive forms” which require invasive and unpleasant treatments and unfortunately that’s what I had developed, hence the prostatectomy which in my case seemed the best treatment option.
My lesson from that is to always ask questions such as “what is your prognosis?” “What form of treatment will you have to undertake?” Never make assumptions! And under no circumstances should you say something like “a lot of people get cancer” as someone I know said to me. That was really the cruelest thing that I can think of.
If you happen to live near the person who is struggling, a gift of labor is so appreciated! Offer to go shopping for them (as a friend did, was my personal shopper at Shop Rite and it was a godsend), or shovel some snow (as a neighbor did, so wonderful), bring over some food, play a game, whatever that person needs or wants, not what you need or want. Also, there is a HUGE difference between “let me know if I can do anything for you” and “what can I do for you?”. Yes, I realize that it can be awkward, they might be physically unwell, perhaps unkept or unwashed, dealing with an improperly sized catheter (as I was) and the ramifications of that. Be respectful of their schedule, if they need to be asleep by 6 PM, then you’ll need to adjust, not them.
My lesson learned is the understanding that in the past although sometimes I’ve played the role of an angel, other times I’ve made excuses to myself and not been such a great friend.
My overall lesson from this experience is also that as a very independent person, who also has an incredibly supportive husband, I should learn to accept assistance more readily. Perhaps I should have called in some of the “let me know if I can do anything” offers, regardless of their sincerity. Perhaps I should have made it known to a wider circle of acquaintances that I was struggling. Ultimately, though, I know the several friends (and family members) who stuck closely with me, offered their complete and undivided attention and love. They will always be bright stars on my path.
So, to finish the cancer story. Pathology, taken from areas surrounding the prostate all came back clean. The follow-up is observation, blood (PSA) tests every 3 months, then hopefully with no further cancer growth every 6 months and eventually less. Unfortunately, the type of cancer that I had, is known to return, even after the prostate is removed. I would urge all men past the age of 50 to get annual PSA tests. Yes, I realize that it’s known to be somewhat unreliable, but in my case a doubling of numbers from the previous year led my GP doctor to urge me to see a urologist for further testing. It was a “4K” test that clearly pointed to a problem for me.
Here’s a little anatomy information that’s news to most people: the prostate, among other things, is basically the urinary “on and off switch” for males. If it is damaged or missing, the body has to be retrained to use other muscles to control the flow or urine.
Things are still troublesome for me. While I’ve recovered from the infection and the ulcerations have been brought under control with medicated creams, there is on-going urinary incontinence (an expected side-effect of the surgery). This will hopefully abate within several months, but for now I’m dealing with diapers and such things. I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me, I’m very fortunate that the cancer was diagnosed and dealt with in a very timely manner, but another lesson, do not simply assume that if someone is “looking good” that all the scars and issues are necessarily healed. Ask them to truthfully tell you how things are, but only if you’re truly interested in knowing.
In light, with love,
Zintis
March, 2026