Meet with the oncologist to discuss the problems I’m having. I play the tough guy and downplay how sick I’ve been, but I do tell him the drugs aren’t working. He prescribes some new drugs for me. We turn to my PSA, which dropped to 0.93. We didn’t talk about what impact this might have on my life expectancy, but I don’t get the sense he thinks it adds much. He says now we’ll wait for the PSA to start rising before next bone scan. We discuss the problems I’m having with radiation again. He recommends I just bite the bullet and be done with the last two sessions.
I take the fourteenth radiation treatment.
I get the next one month shot of Lupron.
Tonight is one of the worst nights of my life. A few hours after the treatment my nausea goes off the charts and stays that way for seven hours. I didn’t vomit even once, because I knew from prior experience that would only make it worse. Still it seems a miracle I was able to stop my body from forcing me to throw up over and over again.
I knew that the treatment had finally become worse than the disease. It felt as if it was killing me more than the cancer. And even if that weren’t true, any life extension wasn’t worth experiencing any more of this. I leave a message with the radiation nurse, describing what I’ve been through and that I’m done.