YANA - YOU ARE NOT ALONE NOW

PROSTATE CANCER SUPPORT SITE

 

SILVER
Ric Masten is a poet, living in California with his beloved wife Bille Barbara. As you'd expect from a poet, he has written a journal, detailing the long ride from his diagnosis to his current position. It is well worth reading this man's wonderful humour-filled report of his dance with the Grim Reaper - and how he has emerged from the fear and confusion of his diagnosis to greet each new day with love and a positive philosophy. If you want to get the latest news go to Year Six - What's Next : if you want to read his story from scratch, go to Year of the Ostrich. To give you a taste of what his journal is like, here's a short extract of the first three entries from The Year of The Ostrich:

 

January , 1999

Like most older men I had avoided the annual checkup for years. The proverbial ostrich with his head stuck deeply into the sand of the workaday world. I felt fine so why bother? Of course, what really kept me out of the doctors office was the thought that he just might find something wrong. Strangely, running parallel with this is the fact that I am also a closet hypochondriac. A psychological disorder that comes in two varieties -- I've been both. Under forty, I ran to the doctor over every imagined symptom. "Ric, if you'd stop handling your pancreas it wouldn't be sore" -- over forty, becoming the aforementioned ostrich. "What I don't know won't hurt me."

When I turned 69, wife finally forced me to go in for a general checkup. I can remember Doctor Kennedy, a neat old guy, saying: "Well Ric, you have become pretty crotchety so, just to be on the safe side, I think we'll do some run-of-the-mill blood work. Check for Diabetes, do a PSA, etc. If the results turn up anything negative I'll call you." He never called. Whew!


Eleven months later, I developed this pain in my groin that, in time, put me on a cane. After ducking the issue for a month or two I finally made an appointment with Dr. Kennedy. Stroking his chin he said. "There are no vital organs where you are hurting so it's probably just a pulled ligament." He prescribed a high powered anti-inflammatory and told me that he was going to be away for two weeks and if I wasn't better by the time he got back to come and see him again. Also mentioned, in passing, that I might go see a urologist as he had heard that kidney stones sometimes cause a pain in that region.

Four days later the pain was growing worse. So I did go to see a local urologist. Got his name out of the yellow pages.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



February 15, 1999

THE DIGITAL EXAM


digital was such a sanitary hi-tech word
that is until my urologist sneaks up from behind
and gives me the bird
shocked and taken back
I try to ignore the painful experience
by pondering the conundrum of homosexuality
there had to be more to it than that
“You can get dressed now”
was the good doctor’s way of saying
“Pull up your pants, Dude,
and I’ll see you back in my office.”
but his casual manner seemed to exude foreboding

“There is a stiffness in the gland
demanding further examination.
I’d like to schedule a blood test,
ultrasound and biopsy.”
the doctor's lips kept moving
but I couldn’t hear him through the sheet
of white fear that guillotined between us
CANCER! The big C! Me?

I spent the rest of that day
up to my genitals in the grave I was digging.
Hamlet gazing full into the face of the skull
“Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well, Horatio.
Before scalpel took gland.
Back when he sang in a bass baritone.”

desperate to rise above my lower regions
I channel surf HBO
only to find that every selection that evening
bordered on pornography
so I turn to the illustrated brochure
the informative flier
detailing the upcoming procedure
where in the ultrasound and biopsy probe
resembled the head
of a black water moccasin baring its fang
“Dang!” says I jumping back

relief came 36 hours later
something about the PSA blood test
the prostate specific-antigen results
leading the doctor
to now suspect infection
prescribing an antibiotic
of course five weeks from now
the FOLLOW-UP APPOINTMENT!
and as the date approaches
tension will build
like in those Lethal Weapon Action films
when you know there’s a snake in the grass
and Danny Glover isn’t there to cover your ass
+++


April 2, 1999

Unfortunately, the follow-up appointment did lead to the dreaded biopsy followed by a bone scan and as it turns out I do have incurable prostate cancer (notice I said incurable, not terminal).

The scan revealed that the disease has already invaded the pelvis bone. The horses are out of the barn so to speak, no point in closing the door now. Of course Dr. Goldman is most optimistic about all the new and different treatments etc. etc. But before I go into that, I want you to know that even before the treatments begin I find myself experiencing a strange and wonderful kind of peace.

Hell, I’ve lived 70 years already, and done exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Every worthwhile dream has come true. Made my living since 1968 as a "performance poet" - Billie Barbara and I have been together for 47 years and are growing closer with each passing day. I have four great kids, five neat and nifty grandchildren.

Really, when I think about it, I’ve been truly blessed and whether it turns out that my departure date is next year or 15 years from now - I’m determined not to wreck my life by doing a lousy job with my death."


We also have one of his poems at Troop C .

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