A Year Being Bunny

September 2015

A year ago I started a journey rediscovering myself and who I am.

It started October 2013 when my Mother passed away. She was a source of love, pain, confusion, and abuse. She was a product of her own abusive family and time period in which certain actions were tolerated. Our family was viewed as the community’s ideal when if fact it was a source of physical and emotional abuse, alcoholism, depression and suicidal thoughts.

As time progressed more and more elements of me became hidden and Geoffrey ( my original name) tried to hide my femininity by become more and more hyper-masculine in adulthood.  That included a new masculine name - Bronson - tattoos, multiple piercings, various fetishes, leather culture, facial hair and various extreme hairstyles.

In March 2014 I became overwhelmed with needing to be more feminine in my actions and appearance. Those thoughts originated in childhood and whenever they surfaced they were suppressed and deemed as evil by my family.

I started herbal supplements that were supposed to increase breast size and feminize a man’s body. They were the introduction to the “Bunny” side of personality. They created an aura of acceptance. It also brought out the anger I suppressed to my situation with my partner, work and how I had been treated by parents. It was overwhelming and I use the phrase “a mental breakdown” to describe how I was feeling. It was like living in a different world.

In August I started an authorized regime of hormones by my Encocrynologist - to increase estrogen levels and decrease testosterone. Currently I am biochemically classified as a women with 490 level of estrogen and 0.10 level of testosterone - essentially a castrated male.

After months of reflection and some physical changes to my body, I believe I do not want to go the full route to be a woman. But more of who I was as a child - a girly boy (or a boyly girl). I have always had a big chest due to working out at the gym. My boy chest was bigger than my current girl chest - which is softer and rounder.

I had shaved off my moustache and goatee to be more “Bunny-like” after having facial hair for almost 40 years. The face I saw in the mirror was who I saw, even when I had various moustache and goatee combinations. I am currently growing it back and feel more comfortable with the image of I see.

I am planning to stop the hormone therapy after seeing my Endocrinologist at the end of September. I am afraid of the changes that will occur when the testosterone increases. I have not been happy with all of the changes but feel that Bunny is a better person. Even though she sees the world differently than Bronson.

Being Bronson … Being Bunny

Bronson - has suicidal thoughts daily - no suicidal thoughts as Bunny.

Bronson - angry all the time at family, work, partner, money situation, praying hourly for forgiveness and support - Bunny does not feel a need for such feelings and events are “water off a duck’s back” and not to be stressed out about.

Bronson - thoughts in his head all the time - visual imagery that had to be translated into artwork or documented - never-ending conflict of good and bad thoughts - often a rollercoaster of emotions - currently no such thoughts - an empty head - free from conflict … but no urgency or demands or desires - empty feeling.

Bronson liked extreme fetish clothes that gave illusion of hyper masculinity - while  Bunny liked shopping and wearing some moderate women’s clothing and being accepted at woman’s clothing store as be a “Bunny” and a “she”.

Bronson’s life was centred on his sexuality as reward and goal incentives - Bunny has no sexual desires or needs. She is attracted to women rather than men. A man’s body seems silly and icky… exactly like what Bronson felt about a woman’s body.
No need for going for female surgery - not interested in fulfilling that.

What I miss most about being Bunny is the artist side of myself - it is gone. I miss the desires and demands of being creative. Bunny is more literary while Bronson is more visual. Also, Bronson is the one who pushed and pushed and created resources for making money, fundraising for charity and interested in being noticed and recognized for his skills and personality. Bunny is dynamic and gets things done but more in the background.

I do not like being invisible.

I need to exist. Do I exist as Bunny or as Bronson. Maybe a combination of both?
That is what I have to decide.

SPARK PHOTO FESTIVAL 2015 - "LABELS" - APRIL 1 - 30, 2015

 Note: this is a work in progress - end result will be an e-book in which percentage of sales will be donated to YES - Youth Emergency Shelter - Peterborough
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You are cordially invited to a SPARK PHOTO FESTIVAL 2015 Exhibition
by Bronson “Bunny” Smith
“LABELS”

The labels we put on ourselves as well as the ones that society puts on us, can limit our personal sense of well-being and self-worth, and creative potential.

The project is primarily made up of “selfies” using my Mac computer’s app Photo booth. The imagery is gritty and textural. Enjoy.

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DATE:
Wednesday, April 1 to Thursday, April 30, 2015.
LOCATION:
This & That Shop - 330 Charlotte Street, Peterborough, Ontario

OPENING RECEPTION:
Friday, April 3 - 4:00pm - 9:00pm - water / soft drinks / veggies / nibbles -

YOUTUBE:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDR9JhZjfqM
Quicktime Movie of Photos from Exhibition

PRICING:
EXHIBITION - 24 framed photographs for sale - $1500.00
PHOTO REPRINTS - (unframed or similar framing) $50.00 each

NOTE:
50% of sales will be donated to YES - Youth Emergency Services - Peterborough

For more information please contact:
Bronson “Bunny” Smith
473 DONEGAL STREET, PETERBOROUGH, ONTARIO K9H 4L7
705-874-9600 … 705-933-9600 … http://bronsonsmith.com/ tatt2man@mac.com … tatt2man1955@gmail.com

………………………………
“LABELS”
by Bronson “Bunny” Smith

The labels we put on ourselves as well as the ones that society puts on us, can limit our personal sense of well-being and self-worth, and creative potential.
The project is primarily made up of “selfies” using my Mac computer’s app Photo booth.

Bullying is like a swarm of bees. Back in my youth, you'd get stung or bothered by one or more & swat them away. Now with the immediacy of social network and media it has become a rapid swarm of bees and you can get stung to death.
The selfie styled photo show "Labels" is an offshoot of what has been very popular in the news - bullying - we all want & need a positive image of oneself. Labels can hurt - "... sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never harm me ..." - what labels are you carrying around within yourself.

“Labels” Exhibition - $1200.00
Individual Photograph reprints - $50.00 each -unframed/framed ( similar framing to exhibition)

Note: 50% of sales will be donated to YES - Youth Emergency Services - Peterborough

For more information please contact:
Bronson “Bunny” Smith - 705-874-9600 -or- tatt2man1955@gmail.com
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FORMAT  OF TEXT - # of Image - LABEL - ONLINE DICTIONARY DEFINITION - STORY/COMMENTS RELATING TO PHOTO AND EFFECT OF LABEL
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insert pix of a memory


1- A MEMORY - Something remembered from the past: a recollection
- me back in the 2000's in Toronto - I could say things were better back then, but I would be lying.

insert pix of bad ass

2- BAD ASS - A tough, uncompromising, or intimidating person
- girls and boys are attracted to the bad-boy look - a bit of rough -don't mess with me attitude

insert pix of boy

3- BOY - referring to the submissive partner  to a dominant gay man - Daddy or Sir
-also,  a big boy is desirable to those who think being fatter is healthy - not affected by the pandemic of HIV and AIDS

4- BUTCH - manlike or masculine in appearance or behaviour, typically aggressively
- an allusion to masculinity - a stylized view of what makes a man a man

5- WIFEBEATER - Apparently from the association of such a garment with men who commit domestic violence.
-giving a rough and tough image even though not involved with any negative activity -

6- CANCER CAME BACK - after 3 years in remission - the PSA was up again
- the look of failure and regret - I went through the surgery and loss of my physical self and potency - and still the cancer came back -

7- IN REMISSION - A diminution of the seriousness or intensity of disease or pain; a temporary recovery
- how can you be happy when your buddies are getting worse and dying - I am better and you are not - rings hollow - the remission could fail -

8- IMPOTENT - Unable to take effective action; helpless or powerless
- the loss of physical self and sense of being is lost with the changes and coping with the new me -

9- EMPTY - Having no value or purpose
- the loss of self leaves just a shell for others to see

10- MASCULINE - Of or denoting a gender of mouns and adjectives, conventionally regarded as male
- add the clothes, the workouts, the facial hair and sunglasses - does it work - is it real? -

11- FEMME - an effeminate male homosexual who takes a traditionally feminine sexual role
-what is the true sense of self - the inner child that would play with dolls and do their clothes and hair - and loved reading the women's magazine - and being taken care of -

12- BRONSON - the name I chose in 1994 to replace my baptismal name of Geoffrey
- an image of self - trying to protect a happy image content with life -

13- BUNNY - the acceptance of the feminine side of self and using nickname from high school days
- the realization of self - blending the current with the past - accepting the future and comfortable with the present -

14- SANE - of sound mind; not mad or mentally ill
- when the goals and directions are clear and the path is lined up for success -

15- INSANE - In a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behavious, or social interaction; mentally ill
- when the goals and directions are muddy and the path is lined up for failure  due to fears and internal conflict -

16- STRAIGHT - being heterosexual
 - I still laugh when people ask me if I have any children and / or a wife - you have to be kidding -

17- BISEXUAL - Sexually attracted to both men and women
- I was first called bisexual by a boy in my 8th grade class. That was the new school and classmates who beat me up on a regular basis for being different -

18- GAY - a friendlier phrase to use other than homosexual to describe self or others attracted to men
- I own that word and it will not hurt me anymore - I have the pink gay triangle tattooed on my right arm -

19- QUEER - Strange; odd
- allowing myself to be queer - not so polite and finding a gentle pathway -

20- FAGGOT - offensive - A male homosexual
- still view it as a negative phrase - still view it as a phrase I apply to myself and self-worth -

21- NON-BINARY - defining self of the two genders
- I am a man - who is not a man - I am a woman who is not a woman -

22- ON THE FENCE - undecided and waffling
- I miss my goatee and moustache - but like everything else -

23- SEXY - Sexually attractive or exciting 
- I want to feel sexy again - have not felt desirable for many years -

24- SICK  - Affected by physical or mental illness
- a close friend saw me with my painted nails and called me "sick" to my face... I am not sick -

25- SUICIDAL - Deeply unhappy or depressed and likely to commit suicide
- it is so easy to hide the truth from others - and have  the messages of hope and support you freely give to others - be the same messages you want to hear for yourself -

26- SELF-PORTRAIT - A portrait of an artist produced or created by that artist
 - this is how I look at that point in time - part of a fundraiser - had a shaved head and goatee for over 20 years in total -

27- HAPPY - Feeling or showing pleasure or contentment
- this is how I want to be - how I want to feel - how I want to live - happy -

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Biography
Geoffrey Smith, born in Ottawa in 1955, has been a professional artist since the age of 10, selling wire sculptures to several art galleries across Canada.
I began creating wood relief paintings - Modern Primitive Wood Paintings (acrylic on routered plywood with balsa wood strips) in 1983.
I changed my name from Geoffrey to Bronson (a family name) June 2, 1994, as part of my personal growth. “Bunny” was added in 2014.

My work has been honoured with First Prize - Folk Art at the Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition; Best of Show at the Beth Tikvah Art Show; Honourable Mention and Best 3-D / Mixed Media at the Warkworth Festival Art Show and People’s Choice Award at The Lindsay Gallery.

In 2014 I returned to my love of photography and the photographic image with my work
on “Labels”. The last photographic series I had done was on “The Abandoned Outports
of Newfoundland” in 1987. I am currently compiling a collection of my photographs of the heritage buildings torn down for the 407 ETR Toll Highway expansion.

For a listing of private & corporate Collections, Exhibitions, Commissions, Galleries, please visit my website  - http://bronsonsmith.com 

BRONSON “Bunny” SMITH
473 Donegal Street
Peterborough, Ontario
Canada K9H 4L7

Home - 705-874-9600
Cell -705-933-9600
Main Email -  tatt2man@mac.com
2nd   Email -  tatt2man1955@gmail.com

Art Website -  http://bronsonsmith.com
Facebook -     http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=724638794&ref=name
Youtube -       http://youtu.be/YeqrBr7Ki2g
twitter -          @smithmeek
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Reducing Debt Load = Projects to help Marginal - Gay - Trans Youth

Reducing Debt Load = Projects to help Marginal - Gay - Trans Youth-2



I need help to help others - the freedom to complete projects.

- reflections on St.Valentine's Day - the "V " word

St.Valentine's Day - or simply Valentine's Day can be the most delightful and moving moment of the year or a heart-wretching one. The card shops and racks are stocked to the brim with brightly coloured red and pink hearts and imagery with witty or saucy phrases that would make your maiden Aunt giggle or blush due to embarrassment.

The humour that used to exist in the cards at this time of year have turned from red to blue and seem more suited to a bunch of pre-pubscent boys (or at least their frat house buddies) than to move the heart of the woman or man (pick your own choice of gender) to be your Valentine forever. Or at least until next year.

With all that is going on in my life, I was not willing to kowtow to the greeting card company companions of Cupid (who is not seen as much on the cards these days possibly due to child labour laws) and buy a card for $8.99 and up that spewed platitudes of "undying love", "I love you's" ad nauseum, with illustrated hugs and kisses and elements of a long term relationship that may or may not exist anymore.

Just let me say "I still love you" and leave it at that.

.....

Love has been an awkward thing for me since I don't know if I really know what it means or feels like, or is it in my personal makeup at all.
With my upbringing by abusive parents, love = hate = fear. I loved my parents but feared their wrath and hated what they did to my sister and me and to each other. There were days in which all you could think of was "when is the other shoe going to drop" and the abusive behaviour is repeated over again . It's like, you get a cookie if you're sad ... a cookie if you're happy, a cookie if you are successful.. and no cookie if you are bad. And you are told you are bad again and again.

I have been polyamourous (able to be in love with two or more people at once) over the years. My relationship with my first companion, John, evolved from (his term) housemate to boyfriend to lover to common-law husband.
When things got bad due to his alcoholism that lover relationship that was full of anger and fear and disappoint dissolved and John became "my beloved". That is how I referred to him in the last year of his life. I had lost him to his alcoholism and couldn't change it. So all of what occurred previously in those fifteen years were absolved, and he was free from any of my blame or regret or anger. He was "my beloved."

When he passed a part of me died with him, as it is with couples. Never again will we share time or a thought, a chuckle, an intimate moment together or ... , you can fill in the blanks.

Sometimes with love, the hurt becomes part of the story. The absence becomes the rule of the day. Your life together and love becomes what it is - more of a platonic relationship, no longer intimate but loving, but in a different way.

My prostate cancer, the surgery and radiation treatment, took away a great deal of the energy that I used to have. The passion was cut out of me too, and often I did my best to masquerade my feelings so I appeared to be the person I used to be. Sexual energy feeds the spirit and the heart and can be used as a reward or goal. It can be the muse that inspires you to create and share with others that inspiration. It stirs up the emotions and challenges you to challenge yourself and delve into what makes you "tick".

So to all who read this, whether they be young or old with a body that is still intact or having some parts missing (or replaced), tell your loved one they are loved.
Cherish the person you have chosen to share your life and love with.
Share the joy of the passion of sharing your love on Valentine's Day every day of the year.
They deserve to hear that and share that with you, so you two can be "the beloved".

With hugs and kisses,
Snuggles and sniggles,
Lots of love,
Bronson "Bunny"

.....

... quality versus quantity - the other "Q" word

As stated in other blogs, I was raised to expect to have cancer in my lifetime. And probably not live  that long. Which is probably why I am in my financial mess because I expected to be dead by now. As per my parent's thoughts on the matter - my death by cancer (liver / testicular / prostate / melanoma)  or  me being murdered - incarcerated - homeless (all due to being a gay man). It was not a supportive family. They finally accepted me late in their lives, just before they had to receive judgment by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. A little too little - a little too late for redemption.

.....

 When I was first diagnosed with prostate cancer the immediate response was "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!" And once I got my breath back, I started to question the test results.
I did research on what my best options would be even though I had already signed on for a radical prostatectomy in about 4 weeks after diagnosis.

I was told by the doctor that 50% of the gland was cancerous (it was only 5% as per the pathology report after the surgery). Location of the cancer is an important factor. A main aspect was whether or not it was contained within the prostate gland or already escaped and metastized, ready to find a new home (usually the bones) to wreck havoc.
On one side of the gland a bunch of little cancer clusters were growing. And on the other lobe, a larger clump was near the edge, ready to jump ship. 


With the operation date quickly approaching I sought out support and found very little of it. The local support groups were mostly conservative older men (in their 70's) with prostate issues, incontinence, and wives. As a gay man with a platonic male husband, we certainly did not fit it. Even on the internet, support for gay men and their issues seemed to be restricted to closet-case bisexuals who were only interested in being able to perform as before with their boyfriends behind their wives' back. They were not concerned about other health issues other than the sex act.

 .....

When the dust has settled and the wounds have healed, what are you left with. It's hard to tell at times what remains of the old you.

It took about 16 weeks to finally start getting control of my bladder, so I could feel part human again. Not as in infant in a guard or diaper, or being the old bedridden man waiting for the nurse to change the bedding due to an accident.
Prior to that moment, I would lose all the fluid in my bladder simply by standing up.  Even with a heavy duty pee pad, I would often have to change my clothing in a public washroom (extra pants, pad and underwear in a carry bag). I was at the point of ordering an external catheter when the start of controlling my incontinence finally kicked in.

In my twenties and thirties I was proud of my sexuality and constantly trying to prove my masculinity to myself and would enjoy intimacy with others. It made me feel male.
In the 40's things were fine but my interests were changing  and by the time the fifties hit, there were difficulties on the intimacy homefront. Some of that was probably due to the decline of the prostate as it ages, complicated by decline in the relationship with my husband/spouse.
I was aware that the prostate cancer surgery would affect a change in appearance of my manhood.  But not to the extent of the results. It was a truly emasculating event with what happened. As per my research, I found out that "use it or lose it" is a very true and honest phrase that has to be heeded if you want to have any sense of pride of sexual self. That devastating effect is often made worse if the person has to later on undergo salvage radiation treatment.
What I ended up with was being an impotent, non-ejaculating, non-climaxing, small manhood of a person. And for a gay man who's society gauges most of their existence on physical appearance, prowess, and performance - I was striking out in all categories. I did not exist as a gay male.

 .....

Was it worth the battle?

Five years after the fact and I am still here. I have gone through depression, fear, anger, dealt with  suicidal thoughts and even guilt and pity. The silliest one was pity. What did I do to deserve this. Did I have too much sex. Too little sex. My diet. My religion. My faith or lack of faith in believing I would have a long life. Just before my diagnosis I would have a reoccurring dream in which I would tell my husband/spouse, "Hey Steve! You won the lottery!" ... and when diagnosed that is what I thought. He won the lottery. I was going to die on the operating table (bring in the lawyers) and he would be able to pay his bills from my insurance. Well, that didn't happen. I am still here. I still have bills. And I don't remember if I have our lawyer's phone number anymore.

 .....

What was lost and what was won.

The driving force of my internal clock that pushed me time and time again to prove myself. To try to better myself, to be the person I thought I wanted to be got lost. Or maybe it was never there and just an illusion. Anger and despression was still there. That was not cut out. Being tied to finding out the location of roadside coffee shops or restaurants just to be able to use their washrooms so I don't have an accident and leak, is demeaning. The frustration of seeing people you were once attracted to (and them you) being out of reach since nothing of your intimate side works again and you have nothing to offer. It even felt useless and fake to even try to flirt. What was the point.

 .....

Is the "new normal" acceptable or just accepted. You have no other choice now.
I guess I just accept it. The adventures of the past seem like distant memories now. I am coping with my incontinence and trying to remember to do my kegel exercises to maintain the muscles down there. I am accepting the various sides of my personality - the masculine and feminine. I don't have anything to prove anymore. I am doing my best trying to just be me.

 .....

Is the "new you" better off than the "old you" (pre-treatment).

How do you balance off the aspect of simple existence. You did not become radioactive due to the treatments and turn into The Hulk™ every time you stub your toe. What was needed to be done was done.

You did not change your gender due to the medicine to reduce your testosterone which could have fed your cancer. The internal changes and acceptance of self opened up a new world to explore.

You did not stop loving your spouse because you could not have sex the way you used to. In a manner of speaking the relationship became more honest and open.
You did not become lesser of a man even though your manhood was reduced in size by treatment. There was a change in what was important in life. And what was not.

You did not embrace death but faced it.

You did not conquer death but postponed it, a little bit longer, so you could embrace life and its wonderful mystery of existence.

.....

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... on having to wait - the "W" word

"... on having to wait - the "W" word"

 ©2015 Bronson Smith 

Wait.
To wait.
Have waited.
Am waiting.
It was worth waiting for.
The wait is over.
I waited fifteen minutes and I left.

This was a six month wait. All in a series of a waiting game to find out if my cancer had returned. Am I in remission. Is the cancer dead, or just sleeping. Is it back and am I on that damned roller coaster called prostate cancer again.

I grew up being told by my Mother that I was cancer-prone. From childhood, I was reminded time and time again that I was prone to skin cancer, testicular cancer, liver cancer. All fun diseases for a child to hear about and wait for to happen.

As an adult, I smoked (being cool was more important - I now have COPD), had unprotected sex (before we knew about protected / safer sex - and I dodged that bullet and am negative), never really drank (so liver and driving record were clean).
Father had prostate cancer (in his 70’s) but died of parkinsons. Grandpa (in his 70’s) had prostate cancer and died of a heart attack. I expected to have prostate cancer but die of something else.

I had missed a couple of years of annual medical examinations and blood work, including PSA testing.  And the feared (not to me) gloved finger up the butt to check for changes to the size and shape of the prostate. So when an after-hours telephone call came from my doctor in Toronto, I knew something was up. He told me he was worried about my PSA numbers which had increased from 1.68 in September 7, 2007 to 3.86 in October 9, 2009. A basic rule of thumb for PSA levels at that time was - 1-4 - safe; 4-6- wait and watch and 6-10 - get your butt into the hospital now.

I found an Urologist through the local hospital, PRHC. I didn’t have to wait long, since a week later, I was prepped for a biopsy since in his manual digital examination, the doctor found a change in shape and hardness to my prostate. The results for the biopsy were fast. Cancer was found on both lobes - 2/12 sites - 5% of the gland was affected with cancer of a Gleason level 7 ( 3 +4). That ain’t good.

Gleason levels describe the destruction of the normal cells into cancer cells, and in my case - the majority were level 3 - average/slow growing with a smattering of gleason 4 - faster and more dangerous. The higher the number, that faster and worse it is.

Like a whirlwind romance, I was scheduled for a radical prostatectomy (they remove the gland surgically) on November 18 - a mere 4 weeks wait from the diagnosis of cancer. Some men wait up to 6 months for surgery. Some opt for no surgery at all and while others try different routes to kill or slow down the cancer.

The surgery was classed as successful and I was sent home after 3 days in hospital. The result was Gleason 7 - pt3a - fast but nothing outside the prostate - but cancerous cells near the outside of the gland may have been left behind. Cancer cells that could die off (short half life) or lie dormant for years. You would just have to wait.

And that is what I did. For the first year. the PSA blood work testing was every 3 months. The second year, every 6 months with the third year graduating to once a year. It looked like clear sailing ahead.

Too bad no one told the cancer.

Even with knowing I was in remission there was the painful anxiety of waiting to see if your life was going to continue on the road to recovery. Getting over prostate cancer surgery is no picnic - physically, emotionally and sexually. Was it going to descend into a roller coaster of events with more testing, more dialogues on what to do with the diagnosis. What to do with your life, your work, your loved ones.

You just had to wait. To see if you responded to treatment. If you could tolerate the medicines that (for some) stopped testosterone production that feeds the cancer cells. Charting the progression of the cancer to different rates of growth, finding where the cancer pops up next.

I was very lucky with that in mind. They did an MRI that outlined the prostate bed (former home area to the prostate) and designed the 7 weeks of radiation treatment to bombard the area to kill the remaining cancer cells. No buckshot hitting everything in site mentality that used to exist in radiation therapy. My Mother and my Uncle, her brother, were badly burned by radiation treatments and it scared the life out of me. I had the benefit of an online group - GFMPH - that helped me get through it.

Each day for those 33 days, I went through the same routine - got dressed - went to hospital - waited to get zapped ( which had to be done with a full bladder - I could only hold it for about 15 minutes, so water consumption was carefully timed) - waited while the machine did it thing - whirling and humming and numerous other sci-fi movies sounds. It wasn’t scary, but you were scared. Was this going to work. Will this make me better. Can I get on with my life, and what quality of life will I have.

Recovery from radiation treatments is a different waiting game than with surgery. This time around, cells were affected - sometimes millions of them all reacting different ways. One day, your bladder would be out of control and you’d had leaking accidents, while other days, you could be classified as a camel - holding onto your water until it was the right time to relieve yourself. The same with bowel movements.
There is scarring and burns to the area where tissue was destroyed by the radiation. That is the purpose of it.  So as said before, you have good days and you have bad days. You do your best to forget the bad days and hope for more of the good ones as time progresses.

And with that you wait. For the next PSA test. To see if you beat the monster - cancer. If all the pain and suffering and changes to your quality of life was worth it.
You wait. For three months. Then the test - a simple needle prick and blood drawn into a vial with your name on it.

And with that you wait.

I discovered, if the right box is checked, I can get the results back in three days. Otherwise, I have to wait two weeks to visit the doctor. Wait at least a half-hour from your appointment time to chat with him. And in a matter of minutes, you discover if the cancer is going, going, gone…. or if they misjudged the target and you are back on the roller coaster.

The monster was gone - undetectable. I scored a “zero” - PSA <0.10 (there is no such thing as an absolute zero). My number was in fact PSA <0.010 - the lowest you can go.

And then I had to wait. For the next test in three months.

And even though I was hopeful, the anxiety was there. You wait for the test. You wait for the result.

The monster was gone - undetectable- still. I scored a “zero” - PSA <0.10 (there is no such thing as an absolute zero). Once again my number was PSA <0.010 - the lowest you can go.

And then I had to wait. For the next test in six months this time.

I worked through my good and bad days. Questioning quality-of-life versus quantity-of-life. I could now understand the rationale of some of the men I chatted with who chose not to have any treatment. To live out their remaining years intact (prostate cancer is usually slow acting and men can live about 10 years before the serious side effects of cancer takes over).
But from a sample of the men who had advanced cancer and shared their life stories, one thing was certain, “you don’t want to have bone cancer. It is a painful way to die.”

So I continue to fight. To be an advocate for testing. To live since, as a dear friend on the online support group Healingwell.com stated, “every day is a bonus.”

Even though you have to wait.

And my six months was up. I did the blood work two weeks ago. And waited for the appointment date - today. Went to the hospital and waited for the doctor to come in (appointment at 9:45 am) and tell me the results.

It was only a 20-minute wait this time. I was still in remission. I was still a “zero” - my PSA was <0.010. He reminded me if this keeps up, he will discharge me as a patient in five years.

That will be worth the wait.