Time and Persistence of Memory

Going through recovery after prostate cancer surgery I’ve noticed some changes in my attitude about time.

I don’t get anxious about being late when I have somewhere to go. 

If I’m 5 minutes late to something it’s not going to change the world. 

If people get worked up about it that’s their choice, but I’ll get where I need to be when I get there. 

I’ll get the things done that are going to get done. 

If something doesn’t get done today, I guess it’s just not going to get done today. 

Maybe tomorrow?

I’ve always had a secret admiration for people who can show up 10-15 minutes late and don’t seem to even notice.

I want to be one of those people.

I think I value my time more than before.

I enjoy living in the moment more than I use to.

I take time to find the little things that bring me joy.

New year - new goals.

My big race for 2015?

I signed up for the San Francisco Marathon, July 26.

That will be just 4 days short of 1 year cancer free.

I also signed up for the Shamrock’n Half Marathon March 15 and I’m going to lead a pace group for the Elk Grove, Running of the Elk Half Marathon, March 29.

I’ll probably do some other half marathons, a triathlon or two, and maybe California International Marathon at the end of the year. 

I’m just going to enjoy running and being fit and healthy.

6 MILES WITH THE ROCKET

I can only take one step at a time...

Where did June go?

Where did the 4^th of July go?

Less than a month away from surgery.

On July 2, I had my pre-op physical with my primary care Dr.

He was more concerned with my mental health than my physical health.  He mentioned that my blood work and EKG look good but we talked more about the emotional aspect of the surgery.  After having the same surgery a year ago he understands the difficulty of hearing about all the possible outcomes and not knowing how you’re going to come out of it.  One of the most difficult things for him was waiting a week after surgery to get the pathology report. I know I’ll have those questions after surgery too. Did they get it all? Was the cancer more or less aggressive than the biopsy showed? Am I done with treatment? My appointment was more like talking to a friend who happens to be a doctor, about his experiences. I sure am blessed to have a Dr. like him.

The cancer messes more with my head than with my body.  Every day, every hour, wherever I turn it keeps getting into my head. While I was running Saturday, I was half way up a hill and started to get winded. The voices kicked in. “Why are you doing this?”  “You can’t do it.” When I came to the turn, instead of crossing the bridge, I pushed further up the hill about another 100 feet before I turned and went over the bridge.

I called it my, “F. you cancer, I’m the one who will determine what I can and can’t do” training.

Running is great therapy and it’s cheap.

It’s still hard for me to look out into the future and make plans or goals. 

My mind just shuts out the future.

I don’t have a fear that I won’t have a future, but my mind can only deal with getting this chapter behind me. 

So my wonderful wife sends me the following:

"When we are sure that we are on the right road there is no need to plan our journey too far ahead. No need to burden ourselves with doubts and fears as to the obstacles that may bar our progress. We cannot take more than one step at a time." - Orison Swett Marden

All I have to do is take one more step...

Why I run...

Every weekend I get up early and go for a long run of at least 10 miles. 

For over three years I’ve done this without missing a single weekend. 

This morning I was up at 4:30 to get out on the trail by 5:30.

I completed week 165 today with a 15.5 mile run.

The most amazing thing is the fact that for more than three years I haven’t been sick enough to stop me from running at least 10 miles. 

I’ve only had a couple of colds over the last three years that made me even question if I could run 10 miles.

But I’ve done it; every weekend.

It’s not just about getting up early on the weekends and running 10-20 miles. 

It’s all of the in-between miles.

It’s the cold rainy mornings at 5:00 when I don’t even want to get out of bed.

It’s making myself do what my body doesn’t want to do.

It’s pushing myself to do one more mile.

It’s putting on those running shoes day after day.

Rain or shine, alone or with thousands of other runners in a race.

People ask if I always enjoy running.

Not all the time.

But it’s the tough runs that make the great runs so good.

It’s the tough days in life that make the great days so good.

It’s the tough times that make me appreciate the good times all the more.

So in a month, July 30, my streak of running 10 miles every weekend will come to an end.

It’ll be a day to remember.

It won’t be a day that I failed at something.

It’ll be the day I will have kicked cancer’s butt; cut the sonofabitch right out!

And then I get the excitement of starting to run all over again.

Walking a mile, then running a mile, then running two miles, three miles, four miles...

It’ll get back up to 10 miles, then 13.1, then 26.2

That’s the way I choose to look at it.

Thanks to so many of you who have been with me on those 10+ mile runs.

There will be many more to come!

  

I, not events, have the power to make me happy:

When I get up in the mornings, it’s there.

When I go running in the morning, it’s there. 

Throughout the entire day, it’s there.  

When I go to bed, it’s there.

I can’t get it out of my head.

It’s changed the way I see things; everything.

But I have a choice.

I can choose to see the things I can do, or the things I can’t do.

I choose to see the things that I can do.

It’s my choice to make.

Cancer can’t make that choice for me.

The great philosopher, Groucho Marx said,

Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself:

I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy.

I can choose which it shall be.

Yesterday is dead; tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet.

I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.

Thank you cancer for changing the way I see things.

Thank you for making me realize the choice is mine, not yours.

I might not always make the right choice, but today I choose to be happy.

It looks like I will be having my robotic radical prostatectomy surgery on July 30 but no confirmation yet.  If it is July 30 I might be able to run the San Francisco marathon on July 27 if the Dr. gives me the ok.

I choose to be happy...

Sorry such a long post.

After I was diagnosed with prostate cancer I joined an online support group that has been very helpful.  I put out a discussion question asking how long it took men to get back into running, cycling, and swimming.  I had some good responses that have helped me gage what my recovery might look like. However one person, G-man, had an outcome that wasn't so good 4 years ago and felt that he should share his anger with me. I decided to respond to his two post.  I'm putting my response on this blog because it does explain a lot about how I look at the circumstances I face.
Below is a copy of the post I responded with.  If you want to read the entire post with responses you can go to:
Here is that post.
(A screen will pop up to join the group.  You can join or just close the page and re-open it from the link.)

Mr. G-man,

I appreciate that you’ve shared your experience with me and the others who have read this post. I don’t know what to say about your bad experience with RP (Radical Prostatectomy), so I guess I’ll just say I’m sorry for your situation. It’s obvious that you are very upset about the decision you made; I might go as far as to say you that you appear to be angry, and have been angry about it for 4 years.

I think the part about your experience that saddens me the most is not that you had such a bad experience with surgery; but the anger and bitterness that you still hang onto. What is, is. Shit happens, or as you like to say, “it’s a crapshoot” (FYI I’m pretty good at craps when I go to Reno) Maybe it’s time for you to move on in your life and start dealing with some of the anger and stress that this cancer has brought on you. 

You made many bold statements in your first post that I chose not to respond to. I thought about it but decided anyone who reads your post could see some of the same things that I noticed. After your second response I decided I should respond. 

My response is twofold.

1st I hope that you may begin to see and appreciate the life that you have been given as opposed to the alternative of dying a slow 2 year death of metastasized prostate cancer as my father did.

2nd I hope others who read your post will be able to take it with a grain of salt and realize that you had a bad experience and have been angry about it for over 4 years; that the decision you or any of us make will be a life changing decision no matter what that decision is.

I’d like to start by addressing some of your statements. 

In your first post you said, “I was told that I would regain continence after 6 months.”

I would hope that people would be able to realize that no Dr. can guarantee anything. That would be like believing my new car would get 30 mpg on the highway because the little sticker in the window said it would.

You also stated, “I"m sure I was in better shape than you and most men.” 

This is a pretty bold boast. It does sound like you were in pretty good physical shape before you decided on your treatment for PC (Prostate Cancer) . However, to say you were in better shape than me is almost comical. You don’t know me. I’m not going to brag about my accomplishments here but I’m pretty fit.

You said, “If the Dr. who's doing your DaV (robotic surgery) screws up... you will never be happy.”

I have learned that in life happiness isn’t based on past circumstances, but on how we choose to look at things now. I choose to be happy now. It’s true that bad things happen to all of us. We can dwell on those situations or choose to move on. Again; I’m not going to brag; so I won’t go into the obstacles that I’ve overcome, I’m just going to hope that you and others who find themself with this awful situation of prostate cancer will learn to put your past behind you and choose to be happy with what you have now. Please realize this, we are all alive, and compared to the other 7 billion people on this planet we in the U.S. have extremely good lives.

You finished your first post with, “If you do the DaVinci you have a it's like going to Vegas and gambling.” 

As stated above, I’m pretty good at gambling. (Take note that I didn’t say I’m a better gambler than you and most people; because I don’t know that.) I especially enjoy games where I have to make decisions and can see instant results. That’s the way I choose to look at life. If I make a mistake I can learn from my mistakes and try again, or realize that the outcome wasn’t so good and move on.

In your second post you wrote, “I knew "I had cancer" I knew it "cancer" meant death for the most part.”

I think when we hear the word cancer most people do think of death. But I’m under the impression that most men who are diagnosed with prostate cancer don’t think it is an automatic death sentence. I would think Dr. and other cancer survivors would have conveyed this message to most people by the time they are in their 40’s or 50’s. I’m glad you have now realized that cancer doesn’t mean death.

You commented about your Dr. advising you on RP and said, “easy for him to say that never been through this.” Just wanted to throw out a FYI here. My primary care Dr. of almost 20 years, who I actually do trust with my life and have trusted him with my life in more than one situation, has been through prostate cancer. He did AS for a year. During his AS (active surveillance) he researched and talked with some of the well known doctors mentioned throughout posts on UsToo. In the end he chose RRP. He sent me to his urologist/oncologist. When the doctor who I have entrusted my life to sends me to his doctor, I feel I’m in pretty good hands.

You also wrote, “and now they say I have a overactive bladder... Now I'm battling that” 

After having watched my father die a slow death due to his cancer, I think I would much rather have an overactive bladder than the cancer. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I want an overactive bladder. I’m saying that I have read, researched, talked to many people, doctors, friends, and cancer survivors, and I have come to my educated decision to have RRP (Robotic Radical Prostatectomy) and have chosen the surgeon who I think is best for the job for me.

You ended your second post with, “I'm praying that you make the right decision and you are better off than me.” 
This is music to my ears. I am a man of faith, and I hope you are truly praying for me. God hears the prayers of a righteous man. I also pray that my surgery comes out good. I pray that if it doesn’t come out good I am able to overcome the situation and be thankful for what I do have.
Bill