2024 can’t get here fast enough

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 30/12/2023 (825 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Tomorrow night, many of us will engage in the annual ritual of watching the clock and counting down the hours, minutes and seconds before the new year begins. For me, the countdown can’t happen fast enough. That’s because 2023 has, without a doubt, been the worst year of my life.

Those of you who have known me for a while will know that’s saying something, but it’s true.

Six months ago, I wrote a column in which I disclosed that I had been diagnosed with prostate cancer, that it was serious, and that I didn’t know if there was cancer elsewhere in my body.

I explained that, on my former doctor’s advice, I had gone more than a decade with having a PSA test. I had no family history of the disease that I was aware of, and there were several reports about false positive test results.

After several friends (who had experienced prostate cancer themselves) recommended last year that I get a PSA test, however, I asked my new doctor to requisition a PSA as part of my annual physical in February. The results came back with a very high PSA number, which is often a sign of prostate cancer.

I was referred to a urologist in Winnipeg, who ordered another PSA test. This time, the number was even higher. Based on that, a biopsy was scheduled at CancerCare in late April.

A few weeks later, my urologist told me that every sample taken during my biopsy contained cancer with a “Gleason score” of 9 or higher. That’s really aggressive cancer and really bad, in terms of projected outcomes.

He told me that, if I hadn’t gotten that PSA when I did — if I had continued to not get PSA tests — the cancer would have likely killed me in about two years.

After discussing treatment options, my urologist and I agreed that the best course of action would be to have my prostate surgically removed. Before that could happen, however, we needed to know if there was any other cancer in my body. If there was, I understood that it would be an even more serious situation for me, and prostate removal would be pointless.

I had a number of tests over the next several weeks, but no other cancer was found. As a result, I was put on the surgery wait list for a date to have my prostate removed. In the meantime, I began hormone therapy, in the hopes that it would slow down the cancer inside me, and perhaps prevent it from spreading while I waited for my surgery to be scheduled.

In late August, I learned that my surgery was scheduled for Sept. 11 at the St. Boniface Hospital, and my prostate was removed on that day. After three days in hospital, I was sent home to begin 10 weeks of recovery.

For the first month, the recovery was really hard, both physically and mentally. In reality, it still is.

Over the years, friends who have had cancer had told me that it’s impossible to understand what cancer does to you — and the hell you go through — unless you have had cancer yourself. From my own experience, I now know that’s absolutely true.

It’s a roller-coaster of uncertainty, anxiety and occasional pain. For me, it feels like having a relentless, remorseless stalker, bent on killing me on his terms and schedule. Every time I feel a new pain, or a new bump or lump, I immediately worry that it may be “new cancer.” I have spoken to many cancer survivors who experience the same concern, again and again.

It’s hard to live your life that way, not knowing when your “stalker” may re-appear; not knowing if this is your last Christmas; not knowing how much time you have left. And I think it is just as hard on people who care about you.

So far, it appears that my surgery was a success. The results of a recent blood test indicate that my PSA level was undetectable, but I still have years of tests ahead of me. I’m not taking anything for granted, at least not yet.

When I wrote about my cancer last June, I received dozens of emails from readers. Many had experienced prostate cancer themselves, and offered their encouragement and advice. Their support meant a lot to me then, and still does.

What means even more to me, however, is the more than 200 men who have told me that they each decided to get a PSA test after reading my column. Two of them have told me that, after their PSA numbers came back with high numbers, biopsies were done and they have each been diagnosed as having prostate cancer. They’re each getting treatment now.

I have so many people to thank for helping me through this. My wife, Janette, has been amazing. Liz Roberts, Doug Sullivan, Dave Shorr in Los Angeles, Glen Kirkland in Vancouver, Matt Goerzen, Mike Waddell, Zach Fleisher, Don Partrick and so many others. Their friendship, humour and constant encouragement has meant the world to me.

As this year draws to a close, I want you to know how much I appreciate the opportunity to write for you each week, and how much I enjoy your emails, notes and suggestions.

I wish each of you the very best in 2024. From my perspective, it can’t get here fast enough.