Last September, my wife and I sat in the office of a neurologist are she was writing out a prescription for Levodopa. She had confirmed that I had early Parkinson’s Disease (PD) and that I would need the medicine hence forth. Deena had been reading about Parkinson’s Disease, including first person accounts of women whose husbands had it and she also recalled my brother who has advanced PD. I mentioned that there are worse things to have besides PD and when Deena asked what could be worse, I and my doctor responded with a single word: “Cancer.”
At that point, I actually had cancerous tumors growing within me, though I did not know it at the time. After all, how many of us routinely notice minor, insidious changes in the color of our urine which may suggest the presence of blood slowly shading the contents of the bowl while darkening our future as well? Even when I finally noticed a red trickle of blood and passed what could only be described as a clot did I start to roust myself from my slumber.
After I called my family doctor, events occurred in rapid succession: A urinalysis, CT Scan, a transurethral resection (two, actually), receipt of pathology reports and six bouts of chemotherapy. Good news was that my cancer was only Stage IA. Bad news was that it was high grade cancer. Good news was that the muscle layer of the bladder was not affected. Bad news was that it was likely only a matter of time before the cancer would invade the muscle later. Good news was that I tolerated the chemotherapy well. Bad news was that there was no immunotherapy available for me which is why I was forced to take chemotherapy.