Possibly. (But probably not.)
I have been diagnosed with prostate cancer. A lot of it, actually. When they did a biopsy of my prostate, they took samples from 16 different areas of the organ. 14 of them had cancer cells!
(The prostate surrounds part of the urethra between the bladder and the penis. Its function is to store and secrete a fluid that comprises 20-30% of the seminal discharge upon ejaculation.)
But it is not as bad as it sounds. Really. My urologist thinks it is highly likely that the cancer is entirely contained to my prostate; that is, it has not spread to the surrounding organs or entered my bloodstream or lymph channels. This means that if we remove the prostate - and that looks like what will happen - the cancer will be removed from my body. I will be completely cured. (Of course, I will have to be medically vigilant for the rest of my life to verify that remains the case. But that will just be periodic blood tests and maybe bone scans.)
You see, in the minds of most people, Cancer = Death (and it is bolded just like that in their minds, too). But that is often not the case, and I am pretty sure that will be true for me, too. As I said, I expect to be completely cured of this cancer. So let's please not have any of those scenes where you have to look sad and say, "Oh, Kevin, I'm so sorry!" and I have to look sad and say, "Well, I'm trying to be strong..." I'm just not very good at looking sad. Remember, one of Kevin's Absolute Truths is "Life sucks, but is mostly worth living."
So, of course, there are real reasons for me to be annoyed and/or bummed out. The first is that I will have to have an operation and one of my organs will be removed. That will involve a hospital stay and weeks of recovery and some pain and hassle. More importantly, the surgical removal of my prostrate will have a 30-60% chance of leaving me with impotence/erectile dysfunction (the inability to get an erection) and a 5% chance of incontinence (inability to control urination). Even if I do not ultimately end up having those problems for the rest of my life, I will definitely have them for a period of time after the operation.
I think I would really miss my erections. They and I have had a lot of good times throughout my life. And, whether or not I end up impotent, I will no longer be able to ejaculate (wow, that will be weird) or reproduce (well, "normally", anyway; all the more reason to invest in cloning research!).
The idea of lifelong incontinence problems sounds like a real drag. I am glad that the odds are very much in my favour to avoid that and I sincerely hope it all works out.
But either or both of those problems would be preferable to being dead, or even experiencing the health complications that would accompany the cancer spreading. So the operation seems like a no-brainer to me. (With regards to other treatment options - radiotherapy, hormone therapy, cryotherapy, high frequency ultrasound, etc. - my urologist believes, and I concur, that because the cancer is so widespread in my prostate, it is likely that non-surgical treatments would not get all the cancer and I would have an unacceptable level of ongoing risk.)
OK, time for some good news!
My urologist has years of experience with treating prostate cancer and performing the surgery, and he is widely respected and seen as the "go to" guy for this by my general practitioner and some other doctors I know.
Also, I have accrued enough paid sick leave at my job to cover the time required for the surgery and recovery. More importantly, my boss is totally supportive of me doing what I need to do to take care of myself.
And Australia has an excellent Medicare-for-all system that keeps medical expenses within acceptable levels, which is further helped by the private health insurance I carry to cover hospitalisation expenses. So this should not break my and Ann's finances. (However, we do have a concern for how this "history of cancer" will affect my ability to get appropriate health insurance when we eventually move to the USA.)
Finally, one benefit of having cancer is that I can use it to get out of the difficult social situations in which I occasionally find myself. Because of my "unique" way of looking at the universe and human relations, I occasionally (inadvertently) rub some people the wrong way. When I detect that someone is thinking "Kevin is a jerk!" I should be able to get myself some slack by saying, "You know, I have cancer..." (Hmmm, it may work better if I look sad, though, and that might be problematic.)
Sunday 14 August 2011
Parenting Zuperfliegen: Four-Months-Plus In
Zuperfliegen recently turned four months old. Over the past couple of months, several friends have asked me how things were going. I have typically given a very short summary and added "I plan to write a more complete response soon". This blog entry is an attempt to finally do just that.
Let's first talk about Zuperfliegen's health. Overall, I think it is very good. He is eating and growing like a champ. His height and weight are both around the 70th percentile, with his head size a little higher than that (go, big-headed guys!). He is also sleeping through the night, as well as getting a few naps during the day. And today we saw what appears to be the start of his first tooth.
As you may remember, Zuperfliegen suffers from sleep apnea and requires oxygen 24 hours a day. This is a developmental issue and the prognosis is that he will develop out of it by the end of his first year. We are scheduled for a sleep study at the hospital every three months to monitor his progress and, eventually, determine when he can get off the oxygen. Our first sleep study was supposed to be on August 3. Unfortunately, Zupe had caught a cold at that time and the hospital did not want to do the study unless he was completely well. So the sleep study has been rescheduled for September 5. That was a little disappointing, as Ann and I were looking forward to hearing what progress he has made. But we recognise that it was highly unlikely that he was going to come off the oxygen at this point, so we can deal with waiting a little longer to hear about his current status. We do worry a little that this will push all the future sleep studies back a month, also.
Zuperfliegen has been suffering from an advanced case of eczema giving him a sandpaper-y feel to his skin. Ann has been pursuing various solutions, all with minimal effect. The current perspective, from Zupe's general practitioner, is that it is an allergic response triggered by the season (as it is winter here, the air is dry and cold). So she prescribed a standard moisturizer for babies, a strong steroidal topical cream, bath oil instead of soap, and the removal of gluten and dairy from the food Ann eats (as well as switching the formula for Zupe). We are hoping this, combined with the eventual change of season and warming of the days, will resolve the issue (and that we are eventually able to work gluten and dairy back into Ann's diet!).
The big news about Zuperfliegen is that we have been able to observe developmental changes:
(1) He is smiling! That has really made a big difference. Partly because it means that he is developing and growing at an OK rate; but mostly because we actually get some positive feedback from spending time with him!
(2) He seems much more aware of his hands and reaches for things with intent. Also, he is able to hold his "kung-fu grip" on something for an extended period of time. It's nice when he holds my finger!
(3) He also seems much more aware of his environment. He will follow us with his eyes as we move about the room.
(4) He is more comfortable with being held. This is still an ongoing issue. We want him to see being held by us as a source of comfort. He is getting there.
(5) He is talking! OK, he is not saying words, or even really syllables. But he is making a lot of sounds and he keeps doing it. I am sure that this is the precursor of learning to talk.
We still have a lot of work to do with regards to getting him comfortable on his stomach ("tummy time", they call it), as well as getting him to the point of being able to roll over and eventually sit up. Always another goal to progress toward!
OK, on to Ann. She has really taken to motherhood and is enjoying her time at home with Zupe. She is the major care-giver, while I am basically the "bread-winner" who helps out as I can when I am home. It is funny how I studied traditional gender roles while at university and thought "my life will be different"; and here I am living in the 1960s (well, kind of). We have been helped in the loss of half of our house's income by the fact that Australia offers 18 weeks of paid parental leave (at minimum wage), as well as a small carer's allowance to help with Zuperfliegen needing oxygen. The government also provides all the oxygen for him. This is a country that really does these things right!
Anyway, Ann is happy and healthy and a loving mother.
So what about the fathering side of Zuperfliegen's parenting? Well, if I had written this post two months ago, I think it would have been somewhat despondent. I was having some difficulty with Zupe. It was not that he was crying all the time; he has never suffered from colic. But crying was still pretty much the only sort of communication I was getting from him. He was that guy - you know, the one who is part of your gaming group, but all he ever does is complain and you get kind of tired of it. Combined with his seeming dislike of being held and his inability to smile, I was finding it all a bit depressing.
His partial aversion to being held and what appeared to be slower development and the risk of oxygen deprivation at birth and until he was diagnosed as needing it all fed into one of my greatest fears: that he will be severely autistic or otherwise mentally disabled. If that were to be the case, we would, of course, still love him and do the best we could for him. But, for me, it would be a difficult road to acceptance. Fortunately, his advancements over the past two months have done a lot to allay my fear.
Even if I could get past those two big issues, there was still the difficulty for me that I found Zuperfliegen kind of, well, boring. Sure, I thought he was an amazing miracle of life and super-cute, and I think it would have been fair to say that I loved him, but there just was not all that much to do with him. I mean, he was still working out what those things at the ends of his arms were - his hands - not to mention that they had a relationship to each other! After a number of minutes, I would think, "Time to get back to my computer..." (Of course, if he was crying, that moment came a lot faster.)
What helped a lot - other than the developmental advancements I wrote about above - was altering my expectations of parenting. You see, when I thought about having a child and parenting, my mind would process the data by playing a number of "films" in my head - holding his hand as we crossed the street, playing games on a Sunday afternoon, introducing him to the classic science fiction films, etc. I eventually had to realise that all of those things were years and years away. I had to focus on the here and now, and find the joys present in that. Sure, all this seems really obvious; but it was still quite a revelation for me, and it helped me to start down a much more positive path.
So, nowadays, I feel pretty good about everything. It is nice to see Zuperfliegen responding to his environment and finding joy there. I experienced a moment the other day - I was holding him and he just went crazy with smiling and kicking his legs and thrashing his arms about (some of his main forms of communication) - and that was a fabulous moment for me. My heart just filled with joy and love. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next!
But I'll still be super-thrilled when I can finally hold his hand as we cross the street, play games with him on a Sunday afternoon, and introduce him to the classic science fiction films...
Let's first talk about Zuperfliegen's health. Overall, I think it is very good. He is eating and growing like a champ. His height and weight are both around the 70th percentile, with his head size a little higher than that (go, big-headed guys!). He is also sleeping through the night, as well as getting a few naps during the day. And today we saw what appears to be the start of his first tooth.
As you may remember, Zuperfliegen suffers from sleep apnea and requires oxygen 24 hours a day. This is a developmental issue and the prognosis is that he will develop out of it by the end of his first year. We are scheduled for a sleep study at the hospital every three months to monitor his progress and, eventually, determine when he can get off the oxygen. Our first sleep study was supposed to be on August 3. Unfortunately, Zupe had caught a cold at that time and the hospital did not want to do the study unless he was completely well. So the sleep study has been rescheduled for September 5. That was a little disappointing, as Ann and I were looking forward to hearing what progress he has made. But we recognise that it was highly unlikely that he was going to come off the oxygen at this point, so we can deal with waiting a little longer to hear about his current status. We do worry a little that this will push all the future sleep studies back a month, also.
Zuperfliegen has been suffering from an advanced case of eczema giving him a sandpaper-y feel to his skin. Ann has been pursuing various solutions, all with minimal effect. The current perspective, from Zupe's general practitioner, is that it is an allergic response triggered by the season (as it is winter here, the air is dry and cold). So she prescribed a standard moisturizer for babies, a strong steroidal topical cream, bath oil instead of soap, and the removal of gluten and dairy from the food Ann eats (as well as switching the formula for Zupe). We are hoping this, combined with the eventual change of season and warming of the days, will resolve the issue (and that we are eventually able to work gluten and dairy back into Ann's diet!).
The big news about Zuperfliegen is that we have been able to observe developmental changes:
(1) He is smiling! That has really made a big difference. Partly because it means that he is developing and growing at an OK rate; but mostly because we actually get some positive feedback from spending time with him!
(2) He seems much more aware of his hands and reaches for things with intent. Also, he is able to hold his "kung-fu grip" on something for an extended period of time. It's nice when he holds my finger!
(3) He also seems much more aware of his environment. He will follow us with his eyes as we move about the room.
(4) He is more comfortable with being held. This is still an ongoing issue. We want him to see being held by us as a source of comfort. He is getting there.
(5) He is talking! OK, he is not saying words, or even really syllables. But he is making a lot of sounds and he keeps doing it. I am sure that this is the precursor of learning to talk.
We still have a lot of work to do with regards to getting him comfortable on his stomach ("tummy time", they call it), as well as getting him to the point of being able to roll over and eventually sit up. Always another goal to progress toward!
OK, on to Ann. She has really taken to motherhood and is enjoying her time at home with Zupe. She is the major care-giver, while I am basically the "bread-winner" who helps out as I can when I am home. It is funny how I studied traditional gender roles while at university and thought "my life will be different"; and here I am living in the 1960s (well, kind of). We have been helped in the loss of half of our house's income by the fact that Australia offers 18 weeks of paid parental leave (at minimum wage), as well as a small carer's allowance to help with Zuperfliegen needing oxygen. The government also provides all the oxygen for him. This is a country that really does these things right!
Anyway, Ann is happy and healthy and a loving mother.
So what about the fathering side of Zuperfliegen's parenting? Well, if I had written this post two months ago, I think it would have been somewhat despondent. I was having some difficulty with Zupe. It was not that he was crying all the time; he has never suffered from colic. But crying was still pretty much the only sort of communication I was getting from him. He was that guy - you know, the one who is part of your gaming group, but all he ever does is complain and you get kind of tired of it. Combined with his seeming dislike of being held and his inability to smile, I was finding it all a bit depressing.
His partial aversion to being held and what appeared to be slower development and the risk of oxygen deprivation at birth and until he was diagnosed as needing it all fed into one of my greatest fears: that he will be severely autistic or otherwise mentally disabled. If that were to be the case, we would, of course, still love him and do the best we could for him. But, for me, it would be a difficult road to acceptance. Fortunately, his advancements over the past two months have done a lot to allay my fear.
Even if I could get past those two big issues, there was still the difficulty for me that I found Zuperfliegen kind of, well, boring. Sure, I thought he was an amazing miracle of life and super-cute, and I think it would have been fair to say that I loved him, but there just was not all that much to do with him. I mean, he was still working out what those things at the ends of his arms were - his hands - not to mention that they had a relationship to each other! After a number of minutes, I would think, "Time to get back to my computer..." (Of course, if he was crying, that moment came a lot faster.)
What helped a lot - other than the developmental advancements I wrote about above - was altering my expectations of parenting. You see, when I thought about having a child and parenting, my mind would process the data by playing a number of "films" in my head - holding his hand as we crossed the street, playing games on a Sunday afternoon, introducing him to the classic science fiction films, etc. I eventually had to realise that all of those things were years and years away. I had to focus on the here and now, and find the joys present in that. Sure, all this seems really obvious; but it was still quite a revelation for me, and it helped me to start down a much more positive path.
So, nowadays, I feel pretty good about everything. It is nice to see Zuperfliegen responding to his environment and finding joy there. I experienced a moment the other day - I was holding him and he just went crazy with smiling and kicking his legs and thrashing his arms about (some of his main forms of communication) - and that was a fabulous moment for me. My heart just filled with joy and love. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next!
But I'll still be super-thrilled when I can finally hold his hand as we cross the street, play games with him on a Sunday afternoon, and introduce him to the classic science fiction films...
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