Well, if you’re between woodworking or honeydew projects, I’m sure you will be thrilled to hear about my treatment for prostate cancer. You need to read “Pappy’s Prostate” before reading this to get the complete story. Anyway, if you look at the picture in this post, you’ll see where this is going. I survived the biopsy. This I wasn’t too sure about.

After visiting with my urologist, he sent me over to his associate that treats prostate cancer with radiation. I had checked into most treatments before going, even Loma Linda University in California where they do radiation treatments (with minimal intrusion into your body parts). It came down to radiation treatment or having it removed. I just knew I didn’t want to have my prostate removed. It had the highest risk for being incontinent (a fancy word for leaking you know what).

As a side note, for Christmas my funny daughter-in-law gave me a box of Depends (her family is a bit nuts in the Christmas presents they give). I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of having to use them. In her defense, she gave them to me before she knew I had prostate cancer. I adore her….most of the time.

Continuing on, the radiologist doctor proceeded to explain to me how the radiation procedure worked.  Well, his first move was to pull out the pad and needle you see pictured.   This wasn’t too convincing nor a good way to begin the conversation.   He then proceeded to tell me how they stitched the four corners of this pad smack-dab in between your legs and then inserted the needle about eight inches into your prostate.  I was sweating profusely at this point!  Now that wasn’t good enough so he went on further to explain that 18-20 of these needles were inserted up and into and around my prostate.  To this point, I don’t remember him telling me that I would be put out during the procedure.

Next he explained that during the procedure my legs would be put in stirrups….just like a woman having a baby!  I would even be given an epidural.  My urologist and radiologist would be there carefully inserting these needles watching every move on a monitor.  The only things I could think about at this point was that they had better be paying attention and the routine that Bill Cosby does about  natural child birth flashed through my mind.  Once the needles were placed, the procedure was over and my wife could wait for me in the recovery room.  Several hours later I would be back in my hospital bed laying flat with the pad sewed between my legs and 18 needles stuck in where nobody in their right mind would stick them.  I hope you’ve got the picture to this point.  I don’t think they would have though of this during medieval times.

The doctor next explained that in the afternoon you receive your first treatment.  They wheel you into the radiation room where a computerized machine with a number of tentacles connected to it is located.  Each one of these tentacles is hooked up to one of the needles sticking between your legs.  If you look at the other post picture, you will see that the white needle is an outer case and the steel needle fits inside of it.   The steel needle is removed during treatment.  When I actually saw the machine I was convinced it was a distant relative of R2D2.  This crazy looking machine based on a computerized map of your prostate then goes to work.  It stages a small highly radio-active particle at various points in each tube for a predetermined amount of time based on the location of the cancer in your mapped prostate.   Two more treatments the next day and you can go home.

After all this explanation, I reluctantly agreed to the procedure.  At the time, it seemed it was better than having your prostate removed but not much.  But wait, there’s more!  The doctor then told me I had to come back 2-3 weeks later and have the same procedure again.  Great!  If R2D2 was taking care of it, I know he could have figured out a way to fix it all at once.  I never saw him do things twice in Star Wars.

After worrying about the procedure for two weeks thinking I would never be able to walk normally again, the day finally came to do it.  Why are the doctors always smiling when they come in to see you before they put you out?  If they were laying on the table as I was, they wouldn’t be smiling.  I was just praying for plenty of anesthetic.  I didn’t want to remember any of this.  Having your head cut off with a guillotine didn’t sound too bad at this point.

Much to my amazement, when I woke up from the procedure, there was no pain.  Feeling that pad and the needle ends down between your legs was a little strange.  Likewise, laying on your back for 36 hours was a little uncomfortable but nothing I couldn’t tolerate.  However, I have always thought it a little suspicious when they wheel you into the radiation room with protective padding on the wall and thick doors.  They hook you up and then everyone scatters before they close the doors behind them, leaving you as the only person in the room.  Somehow it must be safe for you but not for them.  Finally after the last treatment, they remove the stitches holding the pad in place and pull all the needles out at once.  Holy Cow!…you’re thinking…..but I didn’t feel a thing.  However, if you ask my wife, I probably walked a little strange for a few days after I got home.

All in all, this high tech procedure worked well for me.  As much as I’ve kidded about it, I am grateful for highly-competent doctors and advanced technology.  After 1 year my PSA dropped from 4.1 to 1.0, a remarkable improvement.  Best of all, I haven’t had to use any of those Depends my daughter-in-law gave me although things feel a little different down where the sun doesn’t shine.

If by some chance, you are facing prostate cancer and are interested in this kind of treatment, email me at woodshopics@gmail.com and I will be glad to provide you with further information.

I just had my prostate biopsied last week. I was going to put a picture of a prostate with this post but didn’t like the idea of showing such a private part and thought this picture of a bottle of Saw Palmetto was a better conversation piece. After my annual checkup, my doctor recommended that I start taking Sal Palmetto along with going to see a urologist.

What’s Saw Palmetto? According to Wiki, “Saw palmetto extract is an extract of the fruit of Serenoa repens. It is rich in fatty acids and phytosterols. It has been used in traditional, eclectic, and alternative medicine for a variety of indications, most notably benign prostatic hyperplasia”. After reading that, I didn’t know any more about what it was than before I read it. In common folk language, all that I know is that it is supposed to help maintain a healthy prostate. By the way, if you think it is hard to say “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers….a peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked” fast 10 times, try saying “Sal Palmetto” fast 10 times. “Sal Palmetto….Sal Paneto…..Sla Paletto….Slaw Pimento….Ay Hah! Gotta!

Wiki also reports that “The taste of saw palmetto fruit is reported to be repugnant”. I haven’t noticed any “repugnant” taste because of the blessing of have the repugnant extract of fruit of the Sereno repens (whew!) enclosed in a gel capsule. How do they make those gel capsules anyway? I’m going to ask Jim Carey from “The Truman Show”. I’ll bet he would know.

What is repugnant, however, is having the doc biopsy your prostate. You wake up in a cold sweat at night thinking about this procedure. If I every meet God, I only have a few questions for Him. One question is why he put the prostate where he did. In any case, if you think worrying about going to the dentist is bad, you should have to worry about getting your prostate biopsied.

What started this whole mess was going to my doctor for my annual checkup. He always checks my prostate and does a PSA test. You ask what is a PSA test? It’s a blood test that applies only to the prostate. There are various ranges your PSA should be in depending on your age. My maximum range for my age was 4.0. Well, over the last four years of checkups, my PSA finally crept over 4.0 so my doc suggested I go see a urologist. I really think he was just trying to reduce the number of prostate exams he had to do in the future……you know, it can’t be a fun thing to do with the latex glove and all.

I called a urologist who practiced in the same building as my doctor and got an appointment with his PA. Physicians Assistant?…..no, this guy was a Prostate Attendant. You could definitely tell he had done this before. I’m all for second opinions, but not when it comes to checking your prostate. This PA proceeded to slick his latex glove up with this gel (lots of it) and whoop…it was over before I knew it. He then proceeded into this long explanation about the fact that it was somewhat enlarged and my PSA was over the 4.0 mark along with a bunch of other stuff. He then explained that a PSA test was only 50% accurate but a biopsy was 96% accurate. He said the biopsy would only take about 15 minutes and that I probably should have it done. A few seconds is one thing but having a foreign object somewhere it wasn’t meant to be for 15 minutes is another thing. After he told me that, I thought to myself….hey, 50% accuracy was exceptionally good. After all, if your batting average is 333 that means you hit the ball a little more than 3 out of 10 times and a player that can do that is considered a very good batter. When I returned to my senses, I had made an appointment to get the biopsy done.

My brother came through a few days later on his way to see his son and their family. I told him I was going to have my prostate biopsied. He asked about my PSA and I told him it was a little over 4.0. He said his had been as high as 21.0 or so and with it being that low, he probably wouldn’t have it done. I’ll swear when he said that I looked in his eyes, he was saying “Don’t do this…it’s not fun at all!” He then tried to console me by saying, “…but if you decide to do it, don’t worry….you’ll be able to get up and walk out of there.”

After all this, no wonder I was waking up in cold sweats thinking about the prostate biopsy.

Well, the day came for my biopsy. I was taken back to the biopsy room by a little petite blonde headed nurse with a big smile. I’m convinced she was smiling to try to cheer me up knowing what was about to happen. She told me to undress from the waist down, put a paper blanket over me and sit on the examining table. Sitting there the only thing I noticed was a computer screen and a thumb-like apparatus. It looked like Goliath’s thumb cover with a latex covering. Just as I was about to chicken out, the doctor came in and cheered me up. He asked me to rollover on my right side and before I knew it he was taking his biopsies…15 or 16 of them with little discomfort to me. Whew! Was I glad it was over!

When I returned to the doctor the following week and got the results of the biopsy, I realized the anxiety, cold sweats, biopsy, etc. was a small price to pay for what I found out. I had prostate cancer in about 5% of my prostate. For you wondering what a prostate looks like, your prostate is shaped a little bit like a heart with the bigger portion at the top and smaller portion at the bottom. Your urethra tube runs right down the middle of your prostate. The doctor divided my prostate into six areas and said I had prostate cancer in one of the top areas a distance away from my urethra tube. After reviewing possible treatments with the doctor, I found out that certain treatments were 99% effective. The treatment part is a subject for another post which I know you will be thrilled to follow.

Wow! Was I glad I caught this early. Later I was reviewing some of my genealogy and found out that my grandfather on my mom’s side and his brother both died from prostate cancer. So, to all you macho men out there, if you want to enjoy “life in your woodshop” as well as life with your better-half, your children, and grandchildren, get your PSA checked. I believe you should start this once you turn 40. At 50 be sure and get a colonoscopy. If you don’t and end up with cancer that has metastasized and have to go through chemotherapy, you will wish you had.

Finally, you really wanted to see a real picture of Pappy. Well, here it is! A picture of me and my grandson. Nice resemblance, eh? Isn’t bald beautiful? I’m so proud of my grandson for wanting to look like me. However, he’s a lot cuter from the front.

I actually started going bald when I was 20 something. My grandfather on my mother’s side was bald so I expected the worse. Thank heaven’s I kept some of my hair until I met my wife. Although Mammy claims she married me because I was the only boy on campus during the deer hunt (a manly big event where I came from). After 5 years of marriage, my hair was mostly gone. We moved to rural Wyoming for my job and I went to the only barber in town. I know his genealogy went back to Chief Geronomo because he did a nice scalp job on me. After that I insisted that Mammy cut my hair which she has been doing every since. It kept getting thinner and thinner but I managed to cover up most of the bald spot by combing it over the top. To do this, you have to let one side grow long and then comb it over the bald spot so it meets the other side. It’s better than a wig that looks fake but not much better. It’s kind of the Bob Newhart look. Well, it kept getting thinner and thinner and one day when Mammy was cutting it she said, “This is ridiculous…..I just going to whack it off.” It was quite a shock to me because because by now it was long enough for a fair maiden to climb down from the castle tower. Well, being the good husband that I am and not wanting to go back to the barber in our town I said, “Okay, go for it”. She whacked it off!

I had grown to admire bald people. For example, my brother is bald and has been a great example for me. However, he went bald in a more sophisticated manner than I did. His baldness started at the front and slowing worked its way back. This is the right way to go bald. My baldness started at the middle top and worked it way out. This is called the donut hole effect and makes you look rather dorky until it reaches its final destination. Through all of this I’ve learned to admire more bald people as well…..like Churchill, Ben Franklin (I was born on his birthday), Homer Simpson, and others.

Over the years I have developed quite an arsenal of anti-bald jokes. My favorite rebuttal is “grass goes well on a manure pile”. One time I had to speak in church and I could see my wife passing her hand over her head signaling to me my hair was messed up. I simply told the congregation that my wife was signaling to me that my hair was out of place and asked her which hair it was.

There are advantages and disadvantages to being bald. Do you realize how much time is wasted in combing your hair? I beg your pardon….its not called hair combing but hair styling. If that time was taken to read books to our kids and grand kids, think how much better off they would be. The only disadvantage to that is the whole world would look like Phyllis Diller which would be pretty scary. I’m proud of the fact that I can style my hair in less than 15 seconds, saving all that time to do more productive things (like writing this crazy blog post). The other advantage is that you don’t get sawdust in your hair when you work in your woodshop. You can just run a wet wash cloth over your head. The only other thing that bothers me is my head runs like a faucet when I exert myself (which I try not to do very often). That makes it tough on hats especially when you like to collect them (a subject for another blog) and it’s no fun getting sweat in your eyes.

All and all, being bald is OK. Mostly, it helps me look more like a grandpa and I really like being a grandpa.

Puttering in my woodshop, I’ve learned a few things about life. First, most men love tools. As Thomas Carlye once said, “Man is a tool-loving animal. Nowhere do you find him without tools; without tools he is nothing; with tools he is all.” I’ve come to believe he is right. Woodworking tools, mechanics tools, golf clubs, fishin’ pole, yer truck; they all count as tools. We are lost without them. If you have a good array of tools, you are sure to make it to heaven. Charles Kingsley said, “Have thy tools ready; God will find thee work.” You see, it all makes sense. Men have no confidence without tools!

Second, women hate sawdust in their kitchen or anywhere else in the house for that matter. I think that comes from their ability to shop. You see, they buy nice things for the house and nice clothes and don’t want to get them dirty. They view sawdust as dirt. I think it gives the house a quite nice aroma myself. In any case, mammy does a nice job of keeping the house clean and tidy, so I keep the sawdust in my woodshop and life is good. By the way, women’s ability to shop is uncanny. If only we were as good at collecting and using tools and they are at shopping and decorating…..I think I’ll have to dedicate a separate post to this subject.

Third, wood is good! It comes in many varieties, colors, and grains. Some wood is soft and easy to sand; other wood is hard and requires more effort to get a smooth finish. People resemble wood in a lot of ways. Some are soft, some are hard, some are dark, some are light, some have a smooth grain, others a rough grain, and ya, some are knotty. Most people have good qualities and bad qualities just like wood. If there was only one kind of wood, woodworking would be boring.

Last, funny things happen in life along with dead serious things, too. Enjoying the journey while being distracted by “Are we there yet?” or “I’ve got to pee!” is the challenge. I’ve had a few flat tires along the way as well as some car breakdowns. Some things I handled quite well; others I’ve acted like Homer Simpson. Funny things always make looking back at my journey more pleasant. I figure we are all puppets on life’s stage with things being thrown at us all the time. Just like routers used to shape wood, I am the only operator of my life’s router which can shape me for good or gouge me up and make me look and feel picked on like the cave man from Gieco. Like the router and firewall on my Internet connection, I alone determine what gets passed through and what gets trashed. My goal is to nip all the smut in the butt!