The long weekend has officially begun, it’s after 5, the MoJolers still in the office are no doubt deep into Friday Happy Hour, and I’m sitting on the front deck listening to Rosanne Cash while Mingus the Super Dog catnaps in the sun. A good day, a good day…
With both of my older brothers having had prostate cancer I’ve been dealing with this for the past year or so; when Jeff Jarvis blogged about his prostate cancer situation, I posted this. Fortunately, I started early enough that it looks like an intense round of work with Michael Broffman of the Pine Street Clinic is helping, a lot.
As probably every middle aged guy in the US should know by now, docs start looking at you funny when your PSA score heads north of 2.5, and then they start looking really serious after it tops 4.0. That’s where my PSA numbers were back in December, and after a couple of inconclusive biopies, that’s when I started downing a smorgasbord of vitamins and herbal doodahs 4 times a day. I admit to being skeptical.
The first data point came back in May, when my PSA dropped to 1.74. That was pretty amazing. But I thought, hell, one number, who’s to say what it really means? So I metaphorically held my breath for another 4 months or so, and got some more blood drawn before I headed out on a backpacking trip up on Glacier National Park with my pals Steve Lyons and Buck Parker. The number of the day: 1.56.
Sometimes something as simple as a number helps make a good day really good.