# Small Victories



## ClosetWriter (Nov 29, 2011)

I once heard a former solder talking about how important it is, during war, to take the “high ground.” Taking the high ground, he said, is important because of the perspective of the battle field that it provides you. It is a huge advantaged over the enemy. This past weekend I took the “high ground.”

Sticking with the military theme, while describing my battle with cancer, I am fighting a war on two fronts. The first front, obviously, is my direct battle with the disease. It is a tough battle. I started to crunch the numbers this morning, and estimated that I have driven 6000 miles for treatment. I would guess that I have had my blood drawn 50 times. I received radiation treatment 39 times over a two-month period. I had radical-prostatectomy surgery. I have had tubes put into me, and tubes taken out of me. I have had radioactive tracers injected into me. I have had bone scans, and biopsies. I have had GPS beacons implanted in me. I have gone to seminars, and spoken with counselors. For each of theses battles, I have climbed out of my foxhole, and charged head-on into the enemy. The second front has been much more difficult. The second front is fought emotionally; it is dealing with the exhausting issue of fighting this war. 

I do have help with the second front. My wife keeps me pointed in the right direction, and helps make sure I have the weapons I need. She doesn’t say much about the battle because, as it just dawned on me, it is very difficult for her. She lost her sister to cancer last year, and didn’t even have time to get through the funeral before learning that her husband had cancer too. She doesn’t like talking about any of it, so I try to avoid the subject as often as I can. That is the least I can do for her to show my gratitude for everything she has done for me.

Yesterday, November 28[SUP]th[/SUP], I had a preliminary meeting with a new doctor to discuss the possibility of starting hormone therapy. Hormone therapy is, in a sense, the last currently available treatment in trying to slow the spread of prostate cancer. Before my meeting I was required to provide another blood sample, so the doctor could see where my PSA (prostate specific antigen) level currently was sitting. My level turned out to be .4 which meant that it had not gone up since my last test six weeks ago. In reality that news was neither good nor bad. Therefore, to me, it was good. I went there expecting the worst. I had even told myself that it was going to be somewhere in the range of .6 to .8. I was elated. 

I chose to title this essay “Small Victories.” An unchanged PSA level, to me, is a small victory, but if you look closely “Small Victories” is plural. My wife and I had the pleasure of taking care of our 2 ½ year old granddaughter for a week. While she was staying with us, we took her on her first trip to a movie theatre to see the new Muppets movie. While we were driving home, my wife told my granddaughter to tell Papa thank you for taking us to see the movie. She said, “Thank you Papa… You are the best Papa in the whole world.” I have chalked-up another victory, and I now stand on much higher ground.


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## CFFTB (Dec 13, 2011)

ClosetWriter, if anything will help keep your PSA level down, it's your young granddaughter telling you you're the best Papa in the world. Fight on. Write on. :joyous:


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## Galen (Dec 19, 2011)

Closetwriter: Congratulations on your "small" victories. Your story was clear and direct. Take care, Galen


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## Rusty Nail (Dec 23, 2011)

Hello ClosetWriter,

This is a very touching essay.  It's great you have the loving support of your wife, as well as a granddaughter to bring you joy.  I wish you all the best, and may your small victories continue until you win the war.

R.


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## vickinicole (Jul 12, 2013)

Thank you for sharing these stories about you fight with cancer. They help to remind me to be grateful.


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