It's amazing that I am only now updating this blog. It took yet another dear, lifelong friend facing prostate cancer surgery to remind me that I had begun this journal four years ago. As I told him, if anything I went through can help someone else through their personal ordeal with the hated and terrifying Big C, then I'm happy to share my story.
Ironically, after my roommate Daryl helped me through my cancer experience, he then was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2009. After undergoing heavy chemotherapy, he is thankfully now in remission. He even trained and ran the 2010 Country Music Half-Marathon with Team In Training! So he's a survivor now too.
Four years later ... as much as I would love to leave my current job (for a variety of reasons), I would have lost everything I own because of medical debt if I had not had medical benefits through my employer. My bills amounted to more than $90,000 after my emergency appendectomy in early December 2006 and my prostatectomy on December 14, 2006. I was left owing roughly 20 percent.
My financial situation has never been stable. Ever. But this was a blow that forced me to be very creative with my money (or lack of). Just as cancer was not the end of the world, neither is bankruptcy, as I'm finding out.
I still report regulary to Dr. Dasari and Dr. Beuter for checkups and am still 100 percent cancer free! My pair-o-docs saved my life. Literally. Dr. Beuter's detection and Dr. Dasari's brilliant surgery gave me back my life. Only other cancer survivors seem to get it ... but as a survivor, life is sweeter, more focused, more important and never taken for granted. There is an overwhelming desire to make every moment count and spend days involved in heartfelt pursuits instead of just trying to make a dollar. Where there's a will, there's a way. And somehow, some way, I know I can survive financially without working at someone else's desk.
I have a million ideas of how I want to spend my time, some of which just might earn a living for me. So stay tuned for progress reports. There will be an announcement in late September.
As always, I love you if you're reading this. Be strong, be yourself, be happy.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Friday, February 16, 2007
The Big C ... 2 months later
It's February 16, 2007, one month after my follow-up visit to Urology Associates and Dr. Dasari. Life is a bit bewildering at this point. The bills, the many bills, continue to pour in every day. I just put them in a stack, putting off any sort of bookkeeping or payment plan. Not good, I know. It takes my entire salary just to pay my mortgage and utilities, with the additional financial support of my roommate, Daryl.
I am still dealing with a lack of energy, despite the fact that I'm having to work a 40-hour-a-week job. I got my hand slapped for coming in late some days, even though I've been diligent to get in my 8-hour day by staying as late as I have to and taking short lunch hours. I was told, "We've been very lenient with you during this whole cancer situation. It's time to get back on the regular schedule." Lenient? I was off work for 3 weeks. Had I not had robotic surgery, I would've been out for 3 months! It's interesting that they take names if you show up late, but no one is around when you stay late to make up for it.
I heard this week that for every hour your body is under anesthesia, you need a month to recover. With the appendectomy and subsequent cancer surgery in December, I logged probably 8 hours of being totally knocked out. That was two months ago, so I guess that means it'll be six more months before I get that anesthetic out of my system ... if the statistic is true, that is. It sure feels true.
I'm trying to stay positive and upbeat about this process. It ain't easy, let me tell ya. The financial burden is tough but somehow I'll survive. I always have.
I determined when I was in the hospital that I wanted to push myself to pursue life as an actor in a very real way — I've been encouraged by friends in L.A. to give it a shot out there. In the meantime, I hope to take on some roles here that I'm dying to do, whether they pay or not. I didn't survive prostate cancer to sit behind a desk for the next 10 years. But to leave my job means I'd be leaving my health insurance. It will be difficult and very expensive if I have to provide my own coverage ... if I can even get coverage as a cancer survivor.
Sorry if I'm seeming to whine here. I've struggled to remain happy and grateful for getting through all the physical challenges. I'm so thankful. But the day-to-day financial needs are getting the best of me, which I know is not good health-wise.
So, keep praying for me. I may no longer have cancer but the world keeps turning and the creditors don't care what you've been through. They only want the money you owe.
The best thing that's happened is that a dear friend is now facing the same surgery I had. I told him that it was a blessing to me that I could share my experience with him if it makes his journey a little easier and not so scary. Why else did I have to go through all this if it can't be used to help someone else?
Life is good. I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I just can't always see the tunnel.
Love to all,
Danny
I am still dealing with a lack of energy, despite the fact that I'm having to work a 40-hour-a-week job. I got my hand slapped for coming in late some days, even though I've been diligent to get in my 8-hour day by staying as late as I have to and taking short lunch hours. I was told, "We've been very lenient with you during this whole cancer situation. It's time to get back on the regular schedule." Lenient? I was off work for 3 weeks. Had I not had robotic surgery, I would've been out for 3 months! It's interesting that they take names if you show up late, but no one is around when you stay late to make up for it.
I heard this week that for every hour your body is under anesthesia, you need a month to recover. With the appendectomy and subsequent cancer surgery in December, I logged probably 8 hours of being totally knocked out. That was two months ago, so I guess that means it'll be six more months before I get that anesthetic out of my system ... if the statistic is true, that is. It sure feels true.
I'm trying to stay positive and upbeat about this process. It ain't easy, let me tell ya. The financial burden is tough but somehow I'll survive. I always have.
I determined when I was in the hospital that I wanted to push myself to pursue life as an actor in a very real way — I've been encouraged by friends in L.A. to give it a shot out there. In the meantime, I hope to take on some roles here that I'm dying to do, whether they pay or not. I didn't survive prostate cancer to sit behind a desk for the next 10 years. But to leave my job means I'd be leaving my health insurance. It will be difficult and very expensive if I have to provide my own coverage ... if I can even get coverage as a cancer survivor.
Sorry if I'm seeming to whine here. I've struggled to remain happy and grateful for getting through all the physical challenges. I'm so thankful. But the day-to-day financial needs are getting the best of me, which I know is not good health-wise.
So, keep praying for me. I may no longer have cancer but the world keeps turning and the creditors don't care what you've been through. They only want the money you owe.
The best thing that's happened is that a dear friend is now facing the same surgery I had. I told him that it was a blessing to me that I could share my experience with him if it makes his journey a little easier and not so scary. Why else did I have to go through all this if it can't be used to help someone else?
Life is good. I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I just can't always see the tunnel.
Love to all,
Danny
Saturday, January 20, 2007
The C Word: Final Chapter
On January 16, I returned to Urology Associates to meet with Dr. Dasari for a follow-up visit, five weeks after my surgery. The blood test shows no presence of cancer! My PSA level is "undetectable." I have to admit I was nervous and apprehensive. Just as when I went for the biopsy results in October, you think he'll stroll in and say everything's okay. Well, this time he did. Whew!
We went over the "pathology" from the surgery — what the examination of the removed prostate revealed: the cancer was worse than he initally thought and had begun to spread to the outside of the organ. Scary. There are four lymph glands there, two on each side of the prostate. Without surgery, the cancer would have likely spread to the lymph glands and the surrounding nerves and tissue. Talk about the nick of time. To be absolutely sure all cancerous cells were removed, Dr. Dasari removed the surrounding nerves and tissue.
I'm so relieved and grateful. The weeks following the surgery have been interesting, to say the least. My mind is now ready to jump back into a normal daily routine ... but my body just can't keep up yet. The prostate and the nerves surrounding it control many things which I took for granted. Now I'm learning just how much I needed it and how different my life will be without it. But you know what? I don't have cancer. Any adjustments I have to cope with are minor nuisances in the grand scheme of things.
(You'll notice I'm not making as many wisecracks about all this. It has been a very sobering experience. The doctor would disagree. I tend to get worse when I'm really nervous so he's had to listen to me trying to be funny.)
Anticipating the final outcome of the surgery was, in a way, like facing my own mortality. I've been given a second chance at life. What a wonderful gift! How I use it is totally up to me. I don't think I'm wiser or that I've been given more knowledge ... but maybe I have, maybe I am wiser now. I know my priorities have changed.
My goal is to arrange my life so that I can spend more time with family and friends and less time making a living. Less energy toward work, anyway. I have to pay my bills (and the medical bills are piling up). Without my job, I would have had no health insurance and would not have gone for a routine physical. So I wouldn't have found out I had cancer. I truly believe things happen for a reason. If my friend Caroline Davis had not led me to my job, I wouldn't be writing these blogs about cancer. Instead, the cancer would be slowly growing and taking over.
(Man, am I ever rambling? That was a rhetorical question — you don't have to agree.)
What I'm thinking is that I want to travel more — visit places I've only dreamed of seeing and re-visiting places I've been that I loved.
I want to spend much more time on the stage. Acting is a passion for me and I've always put it way down my list of priorities. Did you know that people make lots of money as actors? I've heard that some even make millions. Who knew? I want to pursue acting opportunities in L.A. and New York and maybe even London. I can live in Nashville but work anywhere in the world as long as the job lasts.
I've heard myself telling certain people recently to "try to find a way to make a living by doing something you absolutely love." It's so simple but why would you do anything else?
I've never been particularly practical and have failed when I tried to bring some sense of order to my daily world, financially and otherwise. Guess it's the Aquarian in me. But I've been guilty of letting practicality keep me from chasing my dreams. Not anymore.
I'll stay in touch, whatever happens. I don't write here often enough but when the notion strikes me, I'll post an update.
Thanks again for all the support during the past three months. How do people survive alone? I couldn't. I'm always surrounded by loved ones and wouldn't want it any other way.
Danny
We went over the "pathology" from the surgery — what the examination of the removed prostate revealed: the cancer was worse than he initally thought and had begun to spread to the outside of the organ. Scary. There are four lymph glands there, two on each side of the prostate. Without surgery, the cancer would have likely spread to the lymph glands and the surrounding nerves and tissue. Talk about the nick of time. To be absolutely sure all cancerous cells were removed, Dr. Dasari removed the surrounding nerves and tissue.
I'm so relieved and grateful. The weeks following the surgery have been interesting, to say the least. My mind is now ready to jump back into a normal daily routine ... but my body just can't keep up yet. The prostate and the nerves surrounding it control many things which I took for granted. Now I'm learning just how much I needed it and how different my life will be without it. But you know what? I don't have cancer. Any adjustments I have to cope with are minor nuisances in the grand scheme of things.
(You'll notice I'm not making as many wisecracks about all this. It has been a very sobering experience. The doctor would disagree. I tend to get worse when I'm really nervous so he's had to listen to me trying to be funny.)
Anticipating the final outcome of the surgery was, in a way, like facing my own mortality. I've been given a second chance at life. What a wonderful gift! How I use it is totally up to me. I don't think I'm wiser or that I've been given more knowledge ... but maybe I have, maybe I am wiser now. I know my priorities have changed.
My goal is to arrange my life so that I can spend more time with family and friends and less time making a living. Less energy toward work, anyway. I have to pay my bills (and the medical bills are piling up). Without my job, I would have had no health insurance and would not have gone for a routine physical. So I wouldn't have found out I had cancer. I truly believe things happen for a reason. If my friend Caroline Davis had not led me to my job, I wouldn't be writing these blogs about cancer. Instead, the cancer would be slowly growing and taking over.
(Man, am I ever rambling? That was a rhetorical question — you don't have to agree.)
What I'm thinking is that I want to travel more — visit places I've only dreamed of seeing and re-visiting places I've been that I loved.
I want to spend much more time on the stage. Acting is a passion for me and I've always put it way down my list of priorities. Did you know that people make lots of money as actors? I've heard that some even make millions. Who knew? I want to pursue acting opportunities in L.A. and New York and maybe even London. I can live in Nashville but work anywhere in the world as long as the job lasts.
I've heard myself telling certain people recently to "try to find a way to make a living by doing something you absolutely love." It's so simple but why would you do anything else?
I've never been particularly practical and have failed when I tried to bring some sense of order to my daily world, financially and otherwise. Guess it's the Aquarian in me. But I've been guilty of letting practicality keep me from chasing my dreams. Not anymore.
I'll stay in touch, whatever happens. I don't write here often enough but when the notion strikes me, I'll post an update.
Thanks again for all the support during the past three months. How do people survive alone? I couldn't. I'm always surrounded by loved ones and wouldn't want it any other way.
Danny
Saturday, December 23, 2006
The C Word IV
It's done. The prostate is gone and with it, the terrifying cancer. I return next month for further tests to see if they truly "got it all," as Dr. Dasari assures me. I feel a little guilty that all this was more or less effortless. Shouldn't I have been locked in my room, shivering under the covers with fear? Even the day of the surgery, I was more annoyed at having to be at Centennial at 5:30 a.m. than scared. I think the appendix experience served as a dress rehearsal for what was to come. I knew I would be in the same operating room, recovery room, and would be on the 4th floor again post surgery. I have no bad after-effects from anesthesia ... in fact, I couldn't wait for them to just knock me out. Waking up was miserable and I hurt and that stupid catheter was uncomfortable and the most difficult thing to get used to. But as always, my clown gene kicked in the moment I awoke and I asked the nurse if they got the name on the truck that hit me. My off-the-wall sense of humor is a family trait that I particularly love — to make jokes in the face of adversity. I cannot stress how vital it's been to me in every dark period of my life — not to make light of the situation or to be insensitive, but to break the tension with silliness. I believe it's easier for a comedian to play a dramatic role than it is for a dramatic actor to try to be funny. That's why I love comedy ... but you also have to know when to use it without seeming inappropriate (I'm still working on that one).
For the record, the laparoscopic appendectomy on Dec. 3 was a far worse experience than the radical robot-assisted prostatectomy (RAP). Funny how I'm able to rattle off those big medical terms like a member of the E.R. or Grey's Anatomy cast. My post-dual-surgery life is definitely a period of adjustment. Functions that were automatic now require a lot of forethought and concentration. I'm praying for patience ... and I want it NOW! The Dr. says things will be better very soon but I guess for now it Depends® (inappropriate).
I mostly owe my "peaceful, easy feeling" (to quote a song) to the prayers, constant support, and the love of my family and a legion of dear friends.
I cannot thank everyone enough for the acts of kindness —
My beloved parents for always being there before anyone and for taking me back home to the room I slept in as a child to recuperate. I don't care how old you are, no one can sense what you need better than your mother. [For more on that tender subject, you must read Mitch Albom's new book for one more day ]
My precious children and grandchildren, whose love and presence in my life is what inspired me to go ahead with the surgery. Every day, week, month, and year that I can stay here on this planet to watch them as they grow and change and become the wonderful, caring, fun-loving and sensitive people that I always hoped and prayed they'd be.
My many beloved friends, who have boosted me through every low ebb of my emotional-roller-coaster life. I've heard from life-long pals throughout my illness and recovery. I can never adequately express my appreciation and love to you for the cards, e-mails, flowers, phone calls, hospital and home visits, all the fantastic food (I lost 10 lbs but I'm sure I'll gain that back plus some), and mostly the unconditional love and support you've shown. It humbles me and I just don't have the words to thank you enough.
There were many highs and lows for me in 2006 — the 60th wedding anniversary of my parents stands out as the highlight of the year — and some huge personal losses in the passing of my dear friends Lon Gary and Anne Tonelson. Losing them hurt far worse than cancer. I still mourn their loss and wish every day that they had been as lucky as I've been with my cancer experience. Pray for their families.
I wish for you all a happy and healthy 2007! You must schedule regular physical exams. I cannot stress how important early detection is in treating life-threatening illness. My daughter Elizabeth (one of my heroes), is expecting her fourth child in June and we're all thrilled! She's the smartest and best mother in the world. Beating cancer has given me a fresh outlook and courage I didn't know I had to finally pursue some dreams I've let simmer on the back burner for far too long. I'll tell you more in the coming weeks.
God bless you all!
Danny
December 29, 2006
For the record, the laparoscopic appendectomy on Dec. 3 was a far worse experience than the radical robot-assisted prostatectomy (RAP). Funny how I'm able to rattle off those big medical terms like a member of the E.R. or Grey's Anatomy cast. My post-dual-surgery life is definitely a period of adjustment. Functions that were automatic now require a lot of forethought and concentration. I'm praying for patience ... and I want it NOW! The Dr. says things will be better very soon but I guess for now it Depends® (inappropriate).
I mostly owe my "peaceful, easy feeling" (to quote a song) to the prayers, constant support, and the love of my family and a legion of dear friends.
I cannot thank everyone enough for the acts of kindness —
My beloved parents for always being there before anyone and for taking me back home to the room I slept in as a child to recuperate. I don't care how old you are, no one can sense what you need better than your mother. [For more on that tender subject, you must read Mitch Albom's new book for one more day ]
My precious children and grandchildren, whose love and presence in my life is what inspired me to go ahead with the surgery. Every day, week, month, and year that I can stay here on this planet to watch them as they grow and change and become the wonderful, caring, fun-loving and sensitive people that I always hoped and prayed they'd be.
My many beloved friends, who have boosted me through every low ebb of my emotional-roller-coaster life. I've heard from life-long pals throughout my illness and recovery. I can never adequately express my appreciation and love to you for the cards, e-mails, flowers, phone calls, hospital and home visits, all the fantastic food (I lost 10 lbs but I'm sure I'll gain that back plus some), and mostly the unconditional love and support you've shown. It humbles me and I just don't have the words to thank you enough.
There were many highs and lows for me in 2006 — the 60th wedding anniversary of my parents stands out as the highlight of the year — and some huge personal losses in the passing of my dear friends Lon Gary and Anne Tonelson. Losing them hurt far worse than cancer. I still mourn their loss and wish every day that they had been as lucky as I've been with my cancer experience. Pray for their families.
I wish for you all a happy and healthy 2007! You must schedule regular physical exams. I cannot stress how important early detection is in treating life-threatening illness. My daughter Elizabeth (one of my heroes), is expecting her fourth child in June and we're all thrilled! She's the smartest and best mother in the world. Beating cancer has given me a fresh outlook and courage I didn't know I had to finally pursue some dreams I've let simmer on the back burner for far too long. I'll tell you more in the coming weeks.
God bless you all!
Danny
December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The C Word III
Well, it's finally time to get this cancer removed from my body.
I go to the hospital at 5:30 a.m. for surgery at 8 a.m. tomorrow, Dec. 14.
It's been a weird couple of weeks getting prepared, mentally and physically, since I had an unexepected setback on Dec. 3 -- I had an emergency appendectomy. The doctor performed it laparoscopically, which means quick recovery and very little scarring. So the cancer surgeon will more-or-less use the two existing incisions and make three new ones to allow the "robotic" arms to do their work while he sits across the room with little joysticks or something. Who knows? It's what I've read. The surgery last from three to five hours. The DaVinci robotic process takes longer than the old way but it's a million times more precise and makes sure that everything is hooked back up the way it's supposed to be. I'm counting on some wonderful pain medicine and hope the nurses have taken a charm course since I was at Centennial last week. Some horror stories there that I won't go into.
I may be released on Friday but I'm hoping it's on Saturday. Then I'm going home with my Mom & Dad for a few days. They already have all their Christmas gifts wrapped, the tree decorated, and Bing playing on the stereo. Mom is thrilled that I'm coming and already has my room ready. It'll be good to be home for a bit. But I will be very glad to get back to my own bed ... there's no place like home ... right, Dorothy?
Life after surgery will be interesting and definitely a period of adjustment. I'll tell you more about that as it unfolds.
Say prayers. Hug people you love ... or strangers, I don't care. Enjoy the spirit of the holidays. Light a candle for me and think happy thoughts :)
I love you all. God bless you and yours during this season.
Danny
I go to the hospital at 5:30 a.m. for surgery at 8 a.m. tomorrow, Dec. 14.
It's been a weird couple of weeks getting prepared, mentally and physically, since I had an unexepected setback on Dec. 3 -- I had an emergency appendectomy. The doctor performed it laparoscopically, which means quick recovery and very little scarring. So the cancer surgeon will more-or-less use the two existing incisions and make three new ones to allow the "robotic" arms to do their work while he sits across the room with little joysticks or something. Who knows? It's what I've read. The surgery last from three to five hours. The DaVinci robotic process takes longer than the old way but it's a million times more precise and makes sure that everything is hooked back up the way it's supposed to be. I'm counting on some wonderful pain medicine and hope the nurses have taken a charm course since I was at Centennial last week. Some horror stories there that I won't go into.
I may be released on Friday but I'm hoping it's on Saturday. Then I'm going home with my Mom & Dad for a few days. They already have all their Christmas gifts wrapped, the tree decorated, and Bing playing on the stereo. Mom is thrilled that I'm coming and already has my room ready. It'll be good to be home for a bit. But I will be very glad to get back to my own bed ... there's no place like home ... right, Dorothy?
Life after surgery will be interesting and definitely a period of adjustment. I'll tell you more about that as it unfolds.
Say prayers. Hug people you love ... or strangers, I don't care. Enjoy the spirit of the holidays. Light a candle for me and think happy thoughts :)
I love you all. God bless you and yours during this season.
Danny
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)