Devastated by support group meeting: I'm doing everything wrong

If there is one thing I've learned in this cancer journey that never ends - despite having the RP if you choose to do so - is that every cancer is different, and every urologist has their own philosophy that they put into their practice and care of patients, and all of us suffer the physical and emotional outcomes of this frustrating disease, because ultimately it all just delays the inevitable: the recurrence of the cancer. It all comes down to the overly used, but very true saying: "you'll likely die of something else before your prostate cancer kills you"...and that is even for those who had their prostate removed, and who had radiation, and ADT, and all of the crap we go through. The disease just seems to come back in many men. Renegade cells that some refer to as "dormant" or "sleeper" cells, hang out in your body for months, usually years letting you believe that you conquered the cancer...that you are a survivor. Then one day, your "next" PSA has increased. What? Repeat the test: same result...over double what it was last time. How is that possible...my prostate is gone...it has been five years since my RP? And so it goes. I often feel this double emotional existence of: "I'm safe...my prostate, seminal vesicles, and vas defers are all gone, and my follow-up PSA levels, including ultra-sensitive PSA, have been great at < 0.006 ng/ml...I conquered it." But like many (most?) of us who had Extraprostatic Extension ("EPE") and surgical margins, and the tumor classification that signals a likely 25-50% probability of recurrence within five years, you fool yourself into thinking that you'll be one of the more fortunate 50-75% that sees no recurrence. Then one day in our future, that PSA does start to increase. Why/How after all of these years? The "sleeper"/"dormant" cells turned themselves on, and your cancer is now back.
I'm still good just one year post-op, but this experience has forever changed my outlook on life, and what each day is like. You go on living each day to the fullest, in your normal routine, but you feel like you have a time bomb strapped to your groin, and you hear the incessant "tick, tick, tick, tick, tick..." You ask yourself: why wasn't I one of the lucky 7 out of 8 men who do NOT get prostate cancer.? With 1 out of 8 men getting it, why wasn't I one of the seven that didn't get it? I friggin' hate this. I am selling musical instruments and artwork and other items that I don't want my kids to worry about selling someday when I die, because they will be taken advantage of not knowing "how" and "where" to sell the items. I've said this before: women have all kinds of pre- and post-surgical groups and therapy options for breast cancer, uterine cancer, and ovarian cancer. Their therapy is paid for by insurance and Medicare. Why don't men have the same level of therapy and emotional support that is paid for by insurance and Medicare? "Why"...because we're men and we're supposed to tough it out like we tough-out every other thing in our lives. We only have this blog and online seminars to explain things so we can arrive at a place where understanding might afford us some temporary peace and stability. So...make your best decision sir, and be at as much peace as you can muster. Live your life to the fullest as I am trying to do...like we all are...while we keep our fingers, toes, and eyes crossed with hope that our cancer does not return.

@rlpostrp

After a while, your cancer/treatment becomes "the new normal." Despite having to take multiple medications daily, I don't think about it. It's not denial, it's realizing what I can & can't do about it. ALL my ailments I mentally put down to the consequences of getting older.

Last week I was telling some friends how blessed my life has been in so many ways, & the idea that I have cancer didn't even cross my mind.

@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. 😉