83 and Surgery

One day before the New year, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Only six months before,
my wife had succumbed to cancer and it was a double blow not only for me but for my children. With a PSA of 6.4 and a Gleason of 8, and at the advanced age of 83, the verdict had come down hard: No surgery for me, the cutoff was age 74. So out came the needle and in went the
Lupron, a four month shot tho I thought it was for a single month.
A quick visit to the radiologist and a rundown on radiation, chemo and Lupron plus all of the horific side effects. What? possible enlarged breasts- what did I hear right? No women can sit on your lap? No, no, not for me! I did some research, sought a second opinion, got clearance from my cardiologist and in a few months was on my way out-of-town for robotic
prosectomy.
Walked into a lab-style operating room with attendants scurrying back and forth. There stood the robot hungrily eyeing me. I lay down, a mask placed over me and what seemed like an instant ( it was 4-1/2 hours later) I awoke in a hospital room feeling quite o.k. Would you
believe it?: the next morning, I quickly walked a mile. It's now six months later, I've
had three PSA reports, all zero. The exterior wounds are minimal, I jog, work out with weights and feeling great. Wait! The only problems I had were caused by the nefarious Lupron:
night sweats, flashes and a badly swollen knee area.