@rlpostrp - I’m just a few months out from my RP, but I’ve been on the PCa rolly-coaster since 2021, going from, “You don’t have cancer,” to “You might have cancer, but you probably don’t,” to “It could go either way,” to “I really think you have cancer, we just can’t find it,” and finally to, “Yep, there it is, cancer.” - always this test and that test and this and that checkup and PSA’s at ever-decreasing intervals.

That’s why, midway through all that, I decided that once I was diagnosed and treated, I’d never use the words “cured,” “cancer-free,” or “survivor.” - cancer’s with me the rest of my life, AFAIC. I say I’m “surviving” cancer. I say my cancer is “currently undetectable” and that’s about as far as I’m willing to go.

I must say, I don’t spend any energy on anger or “Why me?” thoughts - that doesn’t do me any good, because it can’t change anything. All I can do is look ahead and handle what comes up later, if anything. I will say, I do fully expect some sort of recurrence at some point. I had a first cousin pass two years ago at 66 after his PCa metastasized to his throat, so as much as we hang on this thing being treatable, it does still claim lives earlier than expected.

I do find myself thinking of my life as chunks of time between scans. I don’t really get anxiety over it (I haven’t yet, anyway), but immediately following my first scan (undetectable), my very next thought was, “Ok…good for another three months, let’s go do something!”

Hang in there, don’t let the old critter wear you down if you can help it. I know, it’s easily said, but besides having cancer, I’m also hopelessly optimistic. I have a feeling that (many, many years from now), my last words to my doc will be, “I’m feeling better, really!” right as I’m flatlining. 😉