I’m nearing the two-year mark of dealing with aggressive prostate cancer, and I’ve been writing about the journey to keep my sanity. The essays that have come from this are beginning to be sent out to journals.
Both internal and external beam radiation procedures were completed last fall, but leuprolide, the androgen-deprivation drug, is still having its way with me. I think its side effects are beginning to fade a tad because my hot flashes aren’t as frequent and they aren’t as intense. The hair on my legs is still gone, as well as what I lost off my head. What muscle I have left still has no definition, and even though I exercise twice a day, I don’t see any changes there.
Because I lost strength, flexibility, and balance, I’ve begun going to yoga and Pilates classes to get them back. Most of the classes are what they call “hot,” which means that they heat up the room into the mid-90s. The idea is to sweat out all the toxins in your body. After going to classes every other day for the last two weeks, I have yet to make it through a class without needed to rest in the middle and catch my breath.
Dealing with cancer is not for the faint of heart, not that you have a choice. But I’ve experienced the grace of fellowship among cancer patients and the great compassion of the nurses and doctors.
More on all of this later.
