Tag Archives: prostate cancer

Fore! #14

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Four more to go. Today is Wednesday, September 3rd. I will complete my twentieth and final treatment on Tuesday, September 9th.

How I got here: I return to Provision on 8/11/2014, at 2:30pm for my 2:50 appointment. I find myself back in the examination room with Brittany and Shannon. We had some laughs about our last visit and I confessed my musings on my last post. Brittany pulled up this blog and saved it for later.

I checked out okay and was sent to see my new friends. The Radiators. Just a few steps away are those who as Zane said today, “…aim to please”. I am not sure what is going to happen. I know it involves another balloon….everyday…for twenty treatments. Twenty balloons generally leads to a party. I will hold out hope. I know that I have an “X” scribed on each hip in blue sharpie. My body art is sexy and slimming to my hips….luckily the sharpie will eventually fade away…or it might read, “EEEEEEEXXX” as I reach my golden years…perhaps a misshaped Roman numeral at best.

I have given a valiant effort to become friends with my nurses only to have them abandon me. I am essentially starting over. A whole new group professionally referred to as, Radiation Therapists. East Tennessee’s very own Katie Mac is tasked to retrieve me from the beautiful waiting area. I recall being led to “Autumn Room 1”. I am instructed to lose my shorts and boxers…I can keep my shirt on….(Yea!). They have better gowns here. By better I mean roomy and clean…like the gowns I wear at home. I don’t mind the back draft. It’s a liberating “dare-to-be-free” feeling. I think Katie asked about prior surgery or medical implants or piercings because of the impending x-ray…I am 100% sure I had something really funny to say and it involved my nipples….I spared Katie the humor. I am still wounded from the betrayal down the hall and I don’t know if I have my gumption back to climb that mountain….again.

For every patient that is treated for Prostate cancer, two “bets” are lost by The Radiators….I don’t know if they use a deck of cards or roshambo or draw straws…maybe seniority…..or last one to work….or just a good ol’ batting order….but a balloon is inserted to the subject’s rectum and…..wait for it….removed from his rectum…..every….single…day…of treatment or a “Zappacino”‘as I have renamed it. As you may recall the 16.9 ozs of bottled water and this modern marvel filled with 60ml of saline hold the victim’s prostate in place so the very precise proton beam can zap the cancer which is marked by the gold thingys injected prior.

I walk into the engine room of the USS Enterprise…Spock is nowhere and Scotty is at lunch…still. I am asked my birthday, I am directed to the table where I step up to lay down. I am encouraged to relax, I am encouraged to relax more…balloon in…nothing new here. Table rotates to the right, laser beams are lined up on my beautiful baby smooth hips, x-ray scans to direct the proton beam to the markers…..bell rings, the Radiators scatter to “the bridge”. A huge door spins shut behind them which makes me kinda wonder, “why are they hiding behind a super duper thick space door whilst I lie here in a gown…?”. They don’t have a prostate between them. They should be fine….The door spins open. They rush back into the room and move as if Len Goodman were there. Choreographed for efficiency and beauty….I guess..I’m staring at the ceiling. I can’t really see them. I am looking at the dials above the drop ceiling that has been opened up to mount the machines that have been designed to kill my cancer. I count the holes in the brackets…I wonder what that green wire does…I wonder if that’s dusty or dirty…they slowly rotate the table 180 degrees and repeat….

I know we are almost finished when they come back in and turn me back 90 degrees. The balloon is emptied of its contents then I the same. I sit up and quickly clean up while covering my fantastic backside. Understand, they don’t insert that balloon with a hammer…they use enough lubricant with that balloon insertion to fix every bike chain in Florida….and for that I say, “thanks”.

That entire process lasts twenty minutes…tops. I head back to Autumn Room 1 to dress and head out…I stop by the Nurses Station to say goodbye and here is what I see….Brittany has read and distributed the post #13. They are hovered around her cubicle and I can hear them giggling and snickering…ultimately sounds of approval. (See picture below)

Day 1 is in the books. There is no turning back. As I begin this chapter of this inconvenient gift I am hopeful. I will need to bring my “A” game tomorrow as I forge new friendships with the Radiators.

I would like to take second to recognize a couple of buddies who have been in this cancer thing longer than me and I would argue with more “serious” and aggressive forms of cancer than mine.

Brian Childress, Scott McConnell, Alex Reed have sent me encouraging messages, thoughtful prayers and incredible strength. Scott is finishing up a round of chemo in Nashville as I post this. He has already been through this twice and I have no reason not to believe the trifecta is in full effect. Brian Childress has told me to “smile hard”. Smile when you don’t feel like it…just smile. Alex reminded me that I’m not alone in “this” and to dig in. Susie Bailey Lonas, Janet Testerman, Katherine Marler, and too many other folks who I am not sure I should mention have beat it are beating it and will beat it. As I look around this group of six, no two have the same type of cancer.

Smile Hard!

I am posting this from my IPad and I’m not sure what this is going to look like. Fingers crossed.

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Happy Birthday Parker #10

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Friday, April 11, 2014: Mr. Handsome a.k.a. Parker turns eight today. If we had to file his birthday with the “Birthday Police” we would be locked-up. It was pitiful and the outcome of this day impacts our lives in two different ways.

First, Saturday is Devin’s senior prom and Dylan has a dance recital. The effort that goes into both of these events is pretty massive and Michelle orchestrates this symphony alone. Dresses, costumes, dinners, snacks, transportation, logistics, makeup, manicures, pedicures, hairdo’s, hairdo-not’s, It takes weeks for this to all either fall into place or be hammered into the place where “it” must go. It is brutal. Let’s add the emotion of two teenagers and the mother who is in charge…Mom. The flight of a butterfly is a pretty accurate description of this week as well as many other days prior to this week.

Parker and I just sit back and stay out of the way. Occasionally I am called in to referee or make a ruling….I am very well respected around this household. I try not to be logical and make a ruling I believe to be best…I always, always, always want to support their Mother. Don’t misunderstand what I am saying here. I’m not saying Michelle isn’t logical…quite the opposite. If I was in charge of the girls during these episodes I would blindly nod yes to everything. No sir..If Michelle asks me a “yes” or no” question. I don’t need to know the question. I need to know the answer.

I have a 50% chance of getting it right so I must look for clues before I arrive at the bench for the epic battle of “Mom -vs- Daughter”. As Judge David, I pretend to listen intently but instead I am reading body language, listening for buzz words and voice inflection. “Mom said I have to…” & “I’m your Mother…”, are very common starts to a powerful opening statement.

Not long ago I decided to block out the actual argument because I kept getting the wrong answer…I’m a man. As Michelle has raised me for the last twenty years I am learning to learn. So, my approach is to look at both, sometimes all three of the participants. Figure out who is who. Look attentive, engaged and nod. The only thing I really have to do is watch the time so it doesn’t get out of control. Imagine if you will; words flying, fingers pointing, arms crossing, eyes piercing, eyebrows rising, and voices voicing. Suddenly it stops. This is my cue to make my ruling. I look at Michelle. I look at Daughter. I look at Michelle….Now remember, the odds are fifty-fifty here….for the common man. I proclaim, “Mom’s right! just do what she says”. I walk away and its over. When Mom wins, I win. I like winning and people like winners.

As I explained to Parker, “The main thing is, don’t get excited, remain calm”. Bill Palmer said that years ago and it stuck. While I wasn’t getting excited, I should have planned something for my son. I failed there. I failed to execute. I had some ideas but never pulled the trigger. All I have is a handful of excuses. Michelle made a last ditch effort to make Parker’s birthday a bit more than an ordinary day and arranges for Parker’s buddy Jill to come home after school. Michelle is good like that. She was not so busy that his birthday wasn’t on her mind, she just needed me to step up. Fail. So, I pick them up after school and we go to Yogurt Mountain and have some sweet treats. When I’m with a couple of first graders I am truly with my peer group. We have as much fun as we can have being silly. Luckily it’s a beautiful day and a Friday to boot.

Our neighborhood was full of kids in its day. That day has passed. Parker’s best friends in the neighborhood are Mr. Charlie and Miss Lisa next door. They are so sweet to Parker and he really enjoys visiting them….hopefully no more than they enjoy his visits. I hope they don’t call him Dennis.

It is this day that I realize we can’t stay back here in this beautiful quiet neighborhood. I couldn’t even call an “emergency” birthday party. Twelve months ago, this was our “forever home”. Michelle has been telling me about a house 2.0 “crow miles” and 4.7 “car miles” away from our home. I’m gonna go check it out. With the sun in our hair and sugar in our veins I suggest a quick ride to this property Michelle keeps casually mentioning….every day. The neighborhood isn’t any bigger than our neighborhood, but it has something that our current hood is missing…basketball goals. Not the rusty, “net-free” ones that litter the driveways in my current burb. Shiny, modern, new, black basketball goals. Driving in the car, I have Parker count on the right and Jill count on the left. We start on one end of this street and move to the other. As we crawl up the street and around the corner and down the hill they count, “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9….”. “Wait! this one has two”, yells Jill. “Eleven!” I reply. One last house on our jaunt without a goal but clear evidence that kids live there, probably little girls. I say, “Okay, sooooo the final tally is eleven basketball goals at ten houses…right? “Yah!” they exclaim…Okay let’s go home. Motivated by guilt I am now officially open to moving.

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Let me back up to Thursday. Sometimes it is more stressful to “go on as if” than it is to “go on as is”. I ran into Eric at lunch and he apologized that he still didn’t have the results. He really was sorry. As I am prone to do…I apologize too. I’m trying to pretend it’s no big deal and it really doesn’t matter because it will all be over in a few days once we rule out cancer…No biggie. Although we were still with in he 7-10 day period he promised, I was really hoping to have the results by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. The good news is I knew not to expect any more news the rest for the day. There’s always tomorrow. I found my way to Blackwell’s to blow off a little steam by way of a couple of pints of beer. Delicious IPA was on my mind so I enjoyed a couple of beers and hung out with a few buddies. I head back to the house and enjoy a couple of more beers with Michelle who has decided to join me with a glass of wine. The suds loosened me up a little bit and I had a little bit of a come-apart. Michelle will say I had a pretty big come-apart….”drama queen”.

We were both trying to make the week as normal as usual and we did a good job because I questioned Michelle’s understanding of what’s at stake. She confesses to her “googlings” and that she has been reading about this on the “inter web”. She has been quietly worrying the whole time. Googling the topic is something that I deliberately didn’t do. I don’t want to get caught up in the misinformation super highway. I did have one “Google breakdown” the night before the biopsy and because the information I read was so old I dismissed it. I read about a guy who had a prostatectomy ten years ago. His writings actually inspired me to start this blog. It was very direct and I liked his brash style…it was “guy speak” for sure. I take my brave face off and set it down next to the rest of my armor. We talk about it and the possibilities. I’m David Surber. Everything always works out.

Back to Friday: Michelle got Parker to school and came home and retired to the bed. I was about to hop in the shower and my phone rang. With the water running I quietly took the call. Eric is on the phone and he gets right to it. Basically he says he got the results, I have cancer on both lobes (I check my ears), we got it very early, everything is going to be fine. I responded with something to the effect that I’m not surprised and everything pointed to this and I appreciate him calling and I acknowledge that I know this is not a call he wanted to make. He apologizes for the “crap news” (which does sound better than “bad news”) and he says his office will mail me some material and we can schedule a consultation the next week.

I’m David Surber. Everything always works out. I’m David Surber.

All Messed Up & No Place to Go #8

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April 3, 2014 6:44pm: I woke up sometime around this time based on my text to Mike. “Just woke up. I feel pretty good. Still a little groggy from the Xanax.”. This is slightly amusing because I wasn’t under the influence of Xanax. I was under the influence of Valium. This is also a spotty time of my story. I was high on valium and still exhausted. I went back to sleep. Mike’s response indicated he had just turned onto I-59. I knew I had some time to rest.  I laid my head back down and came in and out of consciousness for a while longer…I think. I got up just before Mike arrived. I knew I needed to take another antibiotic. Mike walks in the back door like he has so many times before. He is quiet like a mouse…but I’m awake-ish and I “light-up” as much as I can so as to present myself in the best light possible. I spring into action to grab my meds from the kitchen. Mike asked me if he could get me anything and I remember looking around for the medicine as I declared myself to be “fine” as I shuffle through the kitchen cabinets.

It’s around 9 o’clock. Michelle and Mike and the kids catch up about this and that. I don’t really remember how the rest of the night went. I think we went to bed around midnight. Again, I slipped away into a very deep sleep. Tomorrow we leave for Pensacola.

Morning April 4, 2014: We get up kinda early and I make my rounds around the house and my car to grab the things I need for the trip. Since my bags are packed for one night with little to nothing I collect “stuff”. The last few items are in my car. Including my sunglasses, my “tub-o-gum, my penicillin…My what? At that moment I remember specifically getting up to take my meds….I never took them. I yell to Mike, “…I never took my antibiotic last night!”. He exclaims, ” I know, I was trying to tell you that…”. I was clearly “out of it”. I roll my eyes, pop a pill and jump in the car.

 Here we go. We drive about four and a half hours down to Pensacola to the Naval Air Station, Whiting Field and play at a “Change of Command” party for some very dear family friends of Mike’s family. They are like cousins to the Frazier Family. Great folks. I have had the pleasure to be included in some landmark events with the Brown family.  Mike and I played at Hank’s graduation from Annapolis and again at Annapolis for his retirement in 2013. Hank is the brother-in-law of the guest of honor. This gig is important because of the who, not the why.

We arrive a little early and set up the public address system or the PA. The ΦA is the sound system including speakers microphones, cables and all the electronics that make it sound as good as we try to make it sound. This requires a bit of heavy lifting which I have been instructed not to partake in…doctor’s orders. Mike wouldn’t let me lift anything…It was great. I had finally achieved “rockstar” status. I have  “ROADIE”. We set up pretty fast and take off to Margaritaville to catch up with my old friend Doug Ayers.  We enjoy a fresh grouper sandwich and a celebratory beach beer. The weather is a little cruddy, but at least it isn’t raining and at least it’s not hot. The gig goes great. Other than having to go to the bathroom every forty-five minutes we had a great response from the intimate crowd and play pretty well all things considered. The handful of Advil has minimized my discomfort and we had a ball. This night did not disappoint. To make things a little bit better, the guests help us carry to entire PA down to the first floor and load it back into Mike’s car. We followed the party out for a nightcap.

Morning April 5, 2014: We wake up hang with the Brown’s for a little bit and hit the road. We are in Pensacola for less than 24 hours. This will be our first back to back gigs in probably twenty years. Can our voices make it through two gigs in a row? This uncertainty adds a little to the strain of my weekend. My fingers are sore. I haven’t played in weeks. Tonight’s show is at a local restaurant in Cahaba Heights called Blackwell’s. Before the gig and after we set up we have a baseball game to attend.

The closer we get to Birmingham the worse I feel. I start to worry about infection..after all I missed a dose of medicine. I guess maybe the stress is taking its toll on me. I feel awful. We have to change strings on the guitars and set up the equipment and go to Parker’s game. I just want to lay down and I have no time. I’m anxious. I can’t sit still. But I need to…but I can’t. We quickly tune up our newly strung acoustic axes and make our way to the bar. We unload and Mike mostly sets it up while I sit and try to figure out how I can get out of this.

6;45-ish: We have spent all day driving and talking and for me, feeling kind crappy. I am wondering, “how I can pull this off?”. “Can I make it through the gig?”. I have over scheduled and I am feeling defeated. I know I need to suck it up and get over it and decide to have fun. “Suck it up Surber!”. I decide going to Parker’s game and enjoying some fresh air will take my mind off of this quandary. The ball field is only five minutes from the gig and the night air is damp and a little chilly. It is perfect. It worked. Although Parker’s team lost they played pretty well and I realize as I leave the field that I am okay. We played and we killed it! The show was even better to me because there were a few times in the day when I was trying to figure out how best to cancel it. I felt great.

It was a great weekend to have a biopsy scheduled. I didn’t have time to think about what was going on in regard to my little situation. It was a whirlwind in slow motion in the  middle of a blackout. Still, No one really knows what’s going on with me. Sunday will be my day of rest and real recovery. I can get some sleep and I don’t have anything to do. Sunday comes and goes.

I made it. I wouldn’t change a thing. The results from my biopsy will be available Wednesday. That’s only three days to get the good news…right?

 

 

Biopsy Day: Let’s Get This Party Started #7

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Thursday, April 3, 2014 1:45-ish: I head back to the back like I do every single time I have twelve small tissue samples removed from my prostate. Proud, tall and loosey-goosey from the schedule IV controlled substance raging through my body. I have no idea what is about to happen. I haven’t researched the procedure….but the genius who decided to throw 30mg of valium at the patient before the “event” deserves a street named after him….because I really don’t care at this point. I’m sleep deprived and ready to go.

In the back: I am seated and the nurse, Paula checks my blood pressure and goes over a check list to verify i have followed my instructions. I am sitting just inside the room with the door to my left. I’m facing the workstation on the nearest wall. There’s a laptop and the usual containers that you would expect to find in a doctor’s examination room. I cautiously look around the room. On the far wall is the exam table. On the wall beside the table I spot three or four small pieces of paper taped to the wall at a forty-five degree angle. My linear OCD is triggered but doesn’t consume me enough to stop me from casing the room. Just at the head of the table there is a very large machine that takes up quite  bit of space. I decide not to look too closely at this machine as I am sure it is what will be used for today’s main event. We are chatting about stuff. I really don’t remember what exactly. I remember how nice she is and that she has a good sense of humor. Out of nowhere she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”. I draw a complete blank. I stutter and try to figure out where the heck that came from and what the heck that has to do with my prostate. She points to her laptop and explains that they like to play music during the procedure to relax the patient. She dumbs it down for me, “What station do you like on XM?”. I slur, “…uhm..lithium I guess…90’s..grunge…”. I can’t quite get it out as the valium is now affecting my speech. Stone Temple Pilots or Alice in Chains is now playing from the tiny computer speakers. I immediately regret my decision of music. I should have gone with a lighter brand of music. Oh well, live and learn. I will  suggest they add the music choice to the patient’s prep list.

She instructs me to stand up so she can give me a shot in the butt. I continue to feel the effects of the drug and shuffle over towards the long table by the far wall and I kind of stand there trying to figure out if I am to drop my drawers or offer her a cheek. She matter-of-factly strolls over and pulls down my waistband and stabs my hip with a tiny needle. She hands me a huge blue paper napkin as she turns to leave and instructs me to take off my shorts, lay on my left side facing the wall and cover up. I thank her and  start to disrobe as I hear the door shut. As I lay my head on the pillow I get it. Before my eyes the mystery of the crooked paper on the wall is revealed. They are  cartoons and comic strips lending a little humor to my situation. I didn’t have my glasses on so it  was lost on me but  appreciated none-the-less.

I hear the door open and hear Eric and Paula talking. I have had time to rethink my music selection and I share with them my new selection. I garble out, “I thought of a better song for the occasion…”. I begin to sing the song “Getting to Know You” from “The King and I“. It garnered a giggle and a smirk as far as I could tell. Eric seats himself at the foot of the bed which leads to light conversation. We talk a little baseball and I remind him I have two gigs in two days and he again tells me I will be fine. He prepares me for the first step of the procedure. He continues and in mid sentence I feel a piercing in the center of my soul.

The shot of lidocaine was the most painful part of all of this. I guess the combination of valium and  the shot in my hip did the trick because I don’t remember him even being in the neighborhood. The lidocaine went straight to my tongue. My tongue wouldn’t cooperate at all. The metal taste in my mouth and jumbled words were almost instant. The pitch of my voice became much higher and my original thought I was working through had vacated. He was right though. The first one was going to hurt and hurt it did. but then as soon as it was…it wasn’t. He now had  eleven samples to collect. We counted down with each tissue sample and soon it  was over. He stood up and proclaimed the procedure a success. They left me with the supplies I needed to clean up including but not limited to some wipes and napkins and a sanitary napkin to put in my boxers for any bleeding. All sweet gestures to leave me with my dignity and self respect. For the record, a sanitary napkin does not work with the “V cut” of a man’s boxers. I should have worn jockey shorts and I will also suggest that be added to the prep list.

I swing my legs around and clean myself up and place my sanitary napkin in my boxers which is completely futile considering my state of mind. I do the best I can. I look down beside the bed and see an empty condom wrapper. I chuckle. What were the odds? Eric comes in with the nurse (I think) and gives me my final instructions and sends me out front.

Everything from here on is a little foggy. I don’t have a clear picture to describe. Michelle is surprised I’m out so soon….I kinda remember her being a little disappoint she didn’t get to read all of her material…. I’m hungry and ready to go home. I’m a little grumpy and ready to hit the couch. We drive by a local place and grab some food. I’m still a little out of it. Kinda like I’m in slow motion. Everything from here on is still a little foggy.I eat and lay down. It was the best sleep I had in a couple of weeks. I drift off after I get Mike’s text announcing his ETA. Sweet sleep, where have you been?

 

 

 

Biopsy Day…Lot’s to say here. #6

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The Beach at Seaside

Seaside Florida

I have a date set and two weeks to go before the procedure. I have plenty of distractions. The “Circle of Trust” has widened to include some folks that I work very closely with as well as a couple of friends and a group of men in my Entrepreneur’s Organization forum. The number stands at less than twenty folks. The weeks leading up to Spring Break include an EO membership event, Parker’s baseball games and practices, Dylan’s fifteenth birthday, my EO forum’s monthly meeting as well as a planning meeting with my business partner, Jason and strategy meetings for a couple of initiatives we are working on for the company. I could not have asked for a better eleven days before Spring Break. 

As a very young man I remember a prayer. It went something like this, “Dear God, Just once…just one time…If you could ever find it in your will to provide me with a house full of beautiful young women with a beach setting during a vacation time like…like Spring Break, I will be forever in your debt. I promise to be a good boy…thanks…Amen…”. Well, He delivered, and at the moment I recalled the petition and recognized the plea lay answered before me…I chuckled at His sense of humor. I had learned later in life, after my original request and was again reminded to be specific in prayer. God had answered and it was the perfect answer…I am glad however, that I didn’t make two such requests. 

March 22-29, 2014 Spring Break: My side kick and wingman for the trip is David Hamric. I have known, “Hambone” or “Hammy” for several years but only in the last couple of years have we spent time outside of our daughters’ activities and our wives’ instruction. We both see things in our own twisted way. Dang! Hammy may have to back out. He has a bulging disc in his neck that is creating all kinds of problems. He is experiencing neck pain, his forearm is burning because of the pinched nerve.He decides he’s going…he can hurt at home or hurt at the beach…he chose the beach. He can’t sleep and the pain killers just take the edge off. I think he said the pain meds took it from a 12 to a 6.5 on his pain index with 10 being the highest number. He hung in there though. It was kind of cold and windy and a little rainy all week. We watched NCAA tourney. Eash day we would look for the perfect plan to find a little comfort for Hambone. He knew about my impending “date with Dr. Jellyfingers” and we talked about how much better it could have been if we were 100%. Not to worry, we did find some time to laugh and have a good time. We may have been the only guys who could have enjoyed the company of the other. Each of us glad we weren’t going through the other’s ordeal. All in all we did the best with what we had…and we did great.

The first week of April is a busy week. First, come up with clever April Fool’s gag. Second, Have my prostate biopsied. Next, Mike Frazier will drive the two of us down to Pensacola for a private gig at a “Change of Command” celebration. Finally, have Mike drive us back to Birmingham for another gig at Blackwell’s Neighborhood Pub. My Doctor has “signed off” for this little adventure, post biopsy. I did everything but number one…which, ironically I now do many times through out the day (think about it…there ya go).

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Let’s back it up a bit.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014: Jose’ Ordonez is stopping in Birmingham for a couple of days on his way back home to Kansas City. We have a couple of days of interviews and recruiting stuff to discuss for work. I picked him up at about 8.30pm at BHM and took him to Blackwell’s for some food and a beverage. We got back home around 11:30 or so. Michelle was up and happy to see our friend. We all lived in Knoxville in another life and share some fond memories before we started this little “growing up” thing. We enjoyed catching up and talking about kids and family and being so far away from “home”. Before you know it is 2AM. We all panic and go to sleep….well kinda. Despite the high gravity beers and the late hour I still couldn’t sleep. Carpool and work await early Wednesday morning. 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014: Rock and Roll! Jose’ and I are up, he finishes a conference call and we head to work. We have a great day! Lot’s of collaboration no down time, we are 100 mph all day. We head back to Blackwell’s after work and have a drink and then to Fleming’s for dinner and back home. I order some to-go food for Michelle. Once back home, Jose’ and I sit on the patio with a night cap talking shop. The perfect recipe for sleep. The formula: sleep deprived + long work day + wine + dinner + scotch = sleep. This is easy. I yawn myself to my palette and prepare to settle in for a delicious night’s rest. BAM! Wide awake. I knew this was happening. I was hoping to ignore it and get caught up on some much needed rest.

This is the night when I come to grips with what is really going on. I am stressed out. I have pushed this aside. Here is what I have been praying in regards to my the old prostate thing-a-majig: a) that I don’t have cancer. b) that if I do have cancer that we’ve caught it early c) that if God has chosen me to carry this burden, that I understand His purpose and I recognize the plan when it is revealed….You would think that laying in bed every night for a couple of weeks that maybe I would possibly recognize that this ordeal is taking its toll on me. What do you do? You get up everyday and do what you do everyday. If I stay busy I can hold this off. Man, I’m tired.

Sometime before this point I receive instructions for a “Prostate Needle Biopsy”…That’s the first time I heard the word needle…Well I guess that makes sense. I guess….kinda.

Here are the highlights: 

  • Fleet enema two hours before procedure
  • take an antibiotic the morning of
  • Take a valium one hour before 
  • eat normal
  • don’t drive

Just the name of the enema is funny. “Fleet”. Have fun with that for a minute. I am texting Eric, Tuesday night before the surgery. I am at the pharmacy picking up my “Fleet” two pack. I decided to get the two pack. Better to have too much than not enough. Only the valium was there. No antibiotics had been either called in or received. It doesn’t really matter. The last thing I did when I left Eric’s office a couple of weeks ago was “pick up my shield and ready my dagger”. I send him a text…here is our exchange:

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NOTE: Pretty cool, Hammy had just sent me a text when I took the screen shot for this. You can read it at the top. He added me to his Church’s prayer list. Coincidence? Nope. “You are….in good hands.” – Thank you Hammy, You’re a good man.

I also sent him a text that said, “I am going to give myself a bourbon enema so you know how my dentist feels…” I still think that is pretty funny. He reminded me that I am indeed a little twisted. 

 

Thursday April 3, 2014:Up and At’em! Jose’ and I head to the office after a cup of coffee and my prescribed morning Cipro. I have a call with Ann to discuss a timeline I am working on. I have a little more to do than I have time. I cut my call with Ann a little bit early and hand her off to Jose’. I say my goodbyes and hit the road. He knows the situation and is aware of my dread. I don’t really know what I am dreading other than the point of entry…which is kind of lame to choose that of all the other stuff I should be dreading when you look at the alternative ways they have to access my prostate. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. The besets straight line is one that doesn’t require a scalpel and the loss of the blood. Bring it on doc! I’m your boy. I am going to be the very best patient ever.

Enema done! The last enema I recall in the very back of my mind is at a coffee bar in South Beach two years ago…I kid. I kid…I remember my grandmother flushing out the bacteria of my young bowels….”Nana Style”. Nana isn’t like Doctor Jellyfingers and the whole DRE thing. Nana took her time and was very gentle…I think. I just remember asking for “why?” and remember her telling me “because”. I remember crying and fighting and being worn down by that lady…. I was eighteen…Okay, I was at least three or maybe four years old. Yes, I do have memories of being three years old. 

Next, Valium and some water. We have to be in Homewood at 1:30pm for my procedure. Michelle is driving and I am riding ‘gun. The drive is about twenty minutes. I step out of the car and I immediately feel the valium…I didn’t fall. My legs took a second to adjust to the chemical racing through my blood stream. I giggled a little bit and told Michelle I was a little unsteady on my feet. I quickly pulled it together and walked to the elevator. The elevator opens and an attractive lady wearing a white lab coat walks by us. I smile and say, “hello”. I look at Michelle and say, “That’s my doctor”. “Really?” she asks. “Nope, I just wanted to see your reaction”. Michelle was also feeling a little strain during all of this and doing a great job of hiding it. She knew Eric was my doctor. I was surprised she bit.

We arrive at the second floor and I walk  up to sign in. Michelle has her “PEOPLE” magazine and some other smut to read while I am in the back. All of my appointments to this point have been first thing in the morning. It’s usually pretty quiet. Today it is packed with folks waiting….waiting on either a doctor or a patient. I decide that a bunch of people is a good thing. There’s a grumpy lady who is upset that the EMT’s waiting near us can’t silence their radio. I wish it bothered me. 

“DAVID SURBER”, my name is announced. They pronounce “Surber” correctly and again, I see that as a good thing. I am calm (thank you Mr. Cipro), cool and walking tall. I will be the best patient to have ever come through this place. It is just another day. I do this every Thursday. What’s the big deal?

 

 

Time #5

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Now it’s the wait and see time. I have transitioned to the “we” from the “me” part of this journey. There are just a handful of folks who are aware to some degree of what it going on with me. Looking back on this, telling Michelle was huge. To hit her over the head with this news any later would have been incredibly unfair. My goal to protect her would have caused her so much more pain. I got lucky. God certainly presented that time and I’m fortunate I took His lead. I didn’t see that at the time. I only understood it later.

Everything is actually still alright. I’m not consumed by this except when I have to go to the bathroom. So that’s only five or six times a day…plus the three or more at night before I go to sleep. So, I’ve got that going for me. Consume is a strong word…I’m still looking forward to getting this resolved so I can get my new meds that will fix this whole prostate issue up. I know it will take a few weeks for the medicine to do its job and then I will be able to start a testosterone treatment which will give me my “zip” back and life will be so much better. The guys I know who are on a testosterone replacement therapy have said it is amazing. They rant and rave about the improvement of their quality of life. This is my hope. This vision is the carrot. I am David Surber and things work out every time, all of the time.

Sunday, March 09, 2014: Michelle turns 41 today and most importantly…Daylight Savings Time begins. A year ago Michelle and I were in New York City for her “surprise” 40th birthday celebration. We had so much fun. It snowed, we saw “Wicked”, I spent time with my oldest and best friend, Jay Wright and his wife Gia and met his son again. Tibor was born on our anniversary in 2011. This year’s birthday party?….nothing. We went to Flip Burger with just our family and that was exactly what Michelle wanted. She loves her family and is completely devoted to our kids. She is a much better person than me. She wins….not even close. I collect cell phones and stack them on the corner of the table. Parker reminds me to do this when we have dinner. He gets it. Be in the now.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014: Audrey Julian is born. Audrey Julian is born to Jeff and Brandy Julian. A day for celebration for sure, I think she was born about the time I am getting some pretty crappy news. I have an 8:30 appointment at his office. I can’t remember if this was scheduled at the first appointment or later. I head back to an examination room to meet with Eric. What’s going on in my head? I am prepared for the worst and hopeful for the best news. Eric comes in and we chat a little bit about baseball. Our boys play in the same league and he is a coach. Down to business.He explains that my PSA levels didn’t go down or stay the same. In fact they went up from 7.4 to 9.2.

I have a Phd in fun. I like fun, I like to laugh. I like folks to be happy and humor is my weapon of choice as well as my shield. This is a very serious conversation. My friend has been carrying this burden and is now telling be some “not so great” news. Armed with my humor I keep my wit in its sheath and my shield on the floor. I have also learned when to shut up and listen. I may have lobbed out some “optimism” while we talked but my role in this discussion is clear. Be respectful of what Eric is saying and soak it in. I am going to have to tell Michelle and I must have as many answers to her many, many questions as I can. Michelle is a “details” person. I am a “big picture” person. While she seeks to understand the details she has an ‘interrogation style” of questioning. Its rapid fire and its intelligent. I must be prepared. We know more than we did but we still have a lot to learn. When I leave I do know one thing. I have scheduled a prostate biopsy scheduled for April 3rd.

As I said earlier I hoped for the best but was prepared for the worst. This would be considered the worst news. I’m okay…I think. I had a Chamber Lunch where I serve as an Ambassador. It was a great distraction. Meeting new members and spending a few minutes with a really positive and inspiring group of folks. Michael Giardina is unknowingly providing me some good medicine. Being himself. We will meet again in Seaside, Florida for Spring Break 2014. I’ll save that story for another day.

Happy Anniversary! #4

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Lot’s of stuff going on post “Snowpocalypse”. School is out for the rest of the week. Abandoned cars litter the road. It took the rest of the week for the snow to melt, freeze again, and finally melt. Even if the main roads were cleared the secondary roads and neighborhood roads were still difficult if not impossible to navigate. Birmingham isn’t a snow town. Birmingham isn’t a snow flurry town for that matter. As the city recovers and begins to settle back in, there is word that avery similar storm system is heading our way.

“Fool me once…”, say the people. We all hunker down and prepare to be prepared. All businesses, schools, government agencies, churches, shelters…everyone is ready. It rained. Many of us were able to find the humor in this who weren’t scarred from the events. The Surber’s made it out unscathed. Many others were not as fortunate, some worse.

As February arrives, we see the end of basketball and beginning of baseball for a busy 8 year old. We are one more month closer to March which will see our daylight extended by one hour. Two events happen in February. Everyone knows about St. Valentines days. The second occasion is the anniversary of the day of my…of our wedding. February 17th  is the day that Michelle and I were married.

This year marks our 18th year and we are still going strong. This year we have also been lucky enough to be included on a birthday celebration for our very dear friend Lori. Lori and Mark have included us on a really great Las Vegas experience to celebrate her birthday with another couple. Tom and Jenise have been our dear friends since we moved to Birmingham in 2000. This is going to be fun!

Friday, February, 14 2014: Many folks love this scheduled day of romance. Apparently none of “those” folks set the calendar for this years Sadie Hawkins Dance. We have two daughters who have squared away their dates. I don’t know how your dances are but these dances in Vestavia Hills are work. Don’t misunderstand me. It is a lot of fun seeing friends and all of our kids all “dolled-up” in a very social setting. Group pictures, sub group pictures, date pictures, pictures with parents, pictures with pictures…all kinds of pictures. Two daughters, one dance, four locations….glad it’s raining. We had a ball! We holed up wit home new and old friends at a restaurant near the kids and enjoyed some food and beverage…..and many trips to the “urination station”. Tomorrow afternoon, we leave for Vegas. I have never been to Vegas.

Saturday, February, 15 2014: Catching a direct flight on a Saturday afternoon is cake. We managed to insert our own amount of stress into this seemingly simple task. No worries. We meet at the airport and enjoy a celebratory bloody mary before we leave. I had a vodka and grapefruit. Wheels up!

Mark has a driver waiting on us holding a sign with Lori’s name on it. The driver collects our luggage and takes us to the limosine. We are traveling with, “Vegas Professionals”. We stop by the drug store and get couple of bottles of champagne to continue the celebration. Yes, the drug store. We also pick up some other spirits and such. A couple of loops around the strip and we are at the hotel. 24 Hours until the Bruno Mars show. Smiles all around.

Sunday, February, 16 2014: Bloody Mary’s and cigars on the balcony. It is a beautiful day in the desert and we hang out after breakfast, just relaxing and talking about whatever. Good times with good friends. Michelle and I take off on an excursion to check things out, This is her second trip to Las Vegas and she guides me around our little corner of the desert. Shopping, lunch with the gang, a little more browsing, quick purchase…let’s get ready for Bruno.

This is the day that I finally let her in on my little secret. I tell her everything I know….which is not much. I think I have enough information to let her know that, “something’s up” and that we shouldn’t be concerned. Most likely I have an enlarged prostate and they make medicine for that. I was tired of keeping the secret ….and because I am so young, I’m probably right.

Bruno Mars sounded great. Mark set us up with a VIP section and Enrique. Enrique was our “Nightlife Marketing Host”. He led us past the lines, around the ropes, through the curtain down to our box. Bruno delivers a show, not a concert…a show. Everything is planned, no variance from the schedule. Starts and ends on time and it is awesome.

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Monday, February 2014 12:01-ish: Our Anniversay: Michelle knew I had “it”, but wasn’t 100% sure. I had recruited Jenise and Lori with Jenise serving as my “mule”. She has the cargo. It was important that our hosts were okay with this plan. After all we are here to celebrate Lori’s birthday. This is her party. Not surprisingly, she graciously lends her support to my cause and helps map it out. After Bruno finished we stop by a cocktail stand and talk about the show visit the restroom. We circle around Michelle. I am winking, nodding, whispering and nudging as I take Michelle’s new wedding ring and slip it on her finger. The original wedding ring had been erroneously discarded a few years earlier. It was my Great Aunt Francis’ wedding ring and it fit Michelle perfectly. That’s another blog and shorter story. Tomorrow we head back to the Magic City.

 

Let’s start here #1

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New Year’s resolutions have been written down. At the top of the list, “…go get yourself checked out by a doctor”. Simply stated, “Get a physical”. My original doctor and I had both moved offices in the last two years and he was just too far away and too inconvenient. I did some doctor searching in December and I knew who and where. I didn’t base my decision solely on convenience. I liked what I had heard about him and I liked that he was ten minutes up the street from my office. Appointment booked!

Tuesday, January 21, 2014, 9:30am (CST): I arrived early enough to fill out the paperwork. I have no allergies and no unusual medical history so this didn’t take long. In the weeks leading up to my appointment I kept a running list of ailments and concerns I wanted to mention and maybe discuss with the doctor in my 2014 moleskine. At forty-six years old, every single time I have left my doctor’s office I have forgotten about that one something on my mind. Not this time, I have a list. Looking back on my graph papered list I see black and blue ink, felt tip and ball point notes by my list in a mismatch of cursive and printed numbers and letters…neat and organized. I have built the list over the last three weeks. Today is gonna be a good day…I have my list.