Peace After The Storm

Len’s Story

Written by: Len Docimo

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark. And early morning. I was driving to my tutoring assignment on April 30th, 2009. The radio sounded like it was coming through torn speakers – static, mumbling, scratchy. When I got to the school, there were kids and school staff about, but it was awfully quiet. As I made my way into the room set aside for me, I realized that I was not hearing anything – no sound, no voices. I was completely deaf. I had Sudden Hearing Loss Syndrome.

As I was driving home, I called my wife and told her to call my primary physician – it was a very one-sided conversation. I came home, picked up my wife, and drove to my physician’s office. We were taken to an examining room. Shortly after the nurse left us, my doctor came in, clapped his hands next to my right ear, and he said something like “Yep. I’ll get you a referral to an ENT.” And he was gone!

A comedian used to say, “I told you that story so I could tell you this one.” This was a very serious condition for me as my daughter was pregnant and my grandchild would be born in late July. Not only did I want to be a part of that celebration, I wanted to enjoy my grandchild and, hopefully, babysit. My doctor’s callous treatment of the seriousness of my condition kept me from seeing a doctor for two years! During that time, as the head doctor in the facility, he prevented me from changing doctors. Luckily, the offices merged, and I changed to a new primary provider in July 2011. She is very thorough and, most importantly, she has small fingers.

My NP didn’t like the feel of my prostate, so she sent me to see a Urologist. When men get to a certain age, we should have regular colonoscopies. I had one scheduled for a morning in early September. So, when we scheduled a biopsy of my prostate, I opted for the afternoon of the same day – what the heck did I know? Note: a biopsy of the prostate isn’t simply removal of one sample of the prostate. They took 12 slices of my prostate. Four were fine, seven were moderate, and one was aggressive. Eight out of twelve is not a good percentage.

The biopsies were the worst, most painful part of my entire prostate cancer diagnosis and treatment. And I very strongly advise you to not have a colonoscopy and prostate biopsies on the same day!

In early October, my wife and I were in the cancers surgeon’s office, talking about the removal of my prostate. Then, he reads a little farther down on my medical history sheet and freezes. “You’re on coumadin.” We acknowledged that I had been on blood thinners since having a mechanical aortic valve installed in October 2005. He says, “If I operate, you will bleed to death!”

That revelation took surgery off the table, making the decision easy. We agreed on a combination of radiation, Iodine isotope seeds implanted in the prostate. And then hormone therapy.

“My God watches out for me and my guardian angel needs a rest (but not quite yet).”

The radiation wasn’t bad – the professionals at the hospital gave me my only tattoos and treated me with respect and some humor (which I appreciated). While talking with some of the other cancer patients in the waiting area, not all of them there for prostate treatment or even radiation, and that was interesting. One gentleman had a great outlook: supportive and upbeat and positive, even though his prostate cancer had come back after seven years in remission.

There were two downsides to getting the 72 Iodine isotope seeds inserted into my prostate (yes, 72). First, if you didn’t know, the prostate sits against the colon. So not only was inserting the seeds a tad painful, but I quickly found out what the closeness of the prostate and colon meant. Every bowel movement for almost a month was so painful I would lean forward and grab a towel or my shirt to stuff in my mouth so I wouldn’t scream or cry out loud.

But the second downside to the seeds was even worse (for me). I had been Grand-daddy day care for my grandson since he was about six-months old. The isotope guidelines for being near young children are conflicting, so we used the more stringent guidelines – I could not be within three feet of my grandson for three months. It was the longest three months of my life.

Then there’s the hormone treatment – estrogen, I think. It was only a shot in the butt and started with every 3-4 months and quickly moved to every six months. I should add that my wife of 34 years had never seen me with hair, and I started growing hair on the top of my head – not enough to be part of a TV commercial, but hair nonetheless. When I got the last shot, I begged my urologist to continue them a little longer, but even though he had the same hairline as me, he smiled and refused.

The hormone treatment also added hot flashes to my repertoire of bodily functions. A couple at night were really bad – like a rash that wasn’t there. But the “fun” ones were when we were in church or somewhere. I would lean over and ask my wife “Is it warm in here?” This loving woman would smile and say “No.”

My PSA has been at or very near target (0.01) for about four years now. My urologist says he wants to see me once a year until he retires or I die, whichever comes first. My urinary system doesn’t give me too many more problems than it did before the cancer.

I am a lucky man. I had (and still have) a supportive family at home and at church. My God watches out for me and my guardian angel needs a rest (but not quite yet).