The shock of learning in November 2006 that I had prostate cancer was overwhelming. One believes that this disease only happens to others, and I didn’t think I was vulnerable. I then realized that I was now part of the statistic of one in seven men in Canada affected by this condition. Now aware of my problem, what was I supposed to do? Have surgery or undergo radiotherapy? Given the results of my PSA and biopsy, my urologist suggested waiting and being monitored every six months. English speakers have a gentle term for this: “watch and wait.”

I began researching online, reading everything I could find, and consulting a radiation oncologist. Soon, I would have to make a choice: surgery or radiotherapy. Both options seemed good, but which one to choose? Two years later, with the latest PSA and biopsy results in hand, my urologist informed me that it was time to proceed. After a few more weeks of reflection, I opted for radiotherapy in June 2009. The few weeks of treatment went well, with minimal, if any, side effects. I continued working as a real estate broker and maintained my other activities.

Today, I am a prostate cancer survivor. I see my radiation oncologist every six months and have a PSA below 1. The concern never leaves us. The worry of a potential recurrence or another cancer remains. Despite everything, we live with hope and cling to the statistics that are in our favor.

My journey is not unique. I speak about it today because men are often not very vocal about their illnesses, especially regarding prostate cancer. If more men over 40 could realize that prostate cancer is the most common cancer among men in Canada, perhaps we would see more men undergoing the simple screening test, the PSA. This test saved my life, and it could save that of your father, brother, partner, friend, colleague, or even yourself.

During this Prostate Cancer Awareness Week, let’s say together, “Stop Prostate Cancer.”

POST SCRIPTUM

I chose to republish this blog that I first posted on September 15, 2011, because it seems timely, on the third day of the Noeudvembre awareness campaign, to share this text with you.

I hope that after reading this blog, you will understand how we feel when we learn that we have prostate cancer. Being run over by a truck wouldn’t have been worse. Crashing into a tree while skiing would have hurt less. Oh, my doctors had all warned me that if my tests were positive, the chances of recovery were excellent. Perhaps during the pre-diagnostic period, we listen less, thinking it’s not important because we don’t believe we’re sick.

I was convinced that my small prostate was healthy. I had no symptoms and always believed my doctor was mistaken. When my doctor informed me of the situation, a kind of panic quickly set in. I didn’t want to face death; I still had many things to see and do. My father died at 63, and I was always told he was too young to die. Since 2006, at the age of 63, I had decided that I would die old. My urologist had just given me a nasty shock.

Searching for Information

The internet is far better than a medical dictionary, although we need to navigate the information we find. The amount of information is incalculable, far too much, which leaves us confused. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I lost my bearings more than once. Just typing two words—“CANCER” and “PROSTATE”—and within moments, we’re touring the world. We visit our neighbors to the south, France, and then return to Canada. A childhood friend who himself had prostate cancer and lives in Toronto referred me to Prostate Canada’s website in Toronto and told me about an organization in Montreal called PROCURE.

I didn’t need to know what was happening in France or other European countries or the United States. Learning that in some countries, it’s one in eight, seven, or even six men who have this insidious cancer didn’t matter much to me. What I wanted to know was essentially two things. The first was to understand which treatments would be best for me and their consequences. My second concern was to be convinced that I could live to an old age.

Walk of Courage

I began my radiotherapy at the Montreal General Hospital in June 2009. On June 21, 2009, Father’s Day, I participated in my first PROCURE March of Courage at Jean-Drapeau Park. I met many men who, like me, had prostate cancer. I was no longer alone. These participants, men, women, and children welcomed me, encouraged me, and their stories made me stronger. I felt like I was at a gathering of some fraternity. I saw these men proudly saying they were “survivors.” After the march, I left thinking that I too would be a survivor, and today, like a good AA member, whenever I have the opportunity to share my story, I always start by saying, “My name is Gaspard, and I am a survivor.”

If I’m Telling You All This

If I’m sharing this, it’s because Noeudvembre is not just about talking about prostate cancer; it’s also an opportunity to say that we can get through it and must remain optimistic.

Thinking about it, I prefer to see my glass as half full. Yes, I was right in 2006 to say that I could live to an old age, and prostate cancer won’t take me down. I have made peace with my cancer. I owe much to PROCURE, and I am certainly indebted to those men I met during my first March of Courage. I am also deeply grateful to the doctors, urologists, researchers, and other health professionals who not only treat but also seek the causes of this cancer and learn how to eliminate it.

Volunteering with PROCURE is my simple way of saying thank you. If my contribution can help PROCURE grow, I will not only live to an old age but also happily.