By Fremont (CA) Mayor Gus Morrison
September 8, 2003

On Monday, August 4, I got to my office just before noon, late because I had just completed my first radiation therapy session for a small cancer of the prostate. On top of the pile of mail was the US Conference of Mayors packet for the 2003 Prostate Cancer Awareness Month. Great timing!

It seemed to me to be a good idea to share my path so others might benefit from my experience. Let me give you the prognosis first. Men with similar cancers to mine, treated with either radiation or surgery, have an almost 90% expectancy of being cancer-free in ten years. That is a great argument for early detection and treatment. Now to the beginning.

We began the year with my wife, Joy, experiencing a series of problems, none of them really major, but cumulatively quite debilitating for her. She came to require more care than two of us could provide on a 24-hour basis and we had to find an alternative care facility for her. She moved into a wonderful assisted living facility and she is doing well now, after two surgeries. One more surgery and we expect her home sometime this fall.

My two daughters, seeing their mother quite ill, began to worry about me. It was all we could do to take care of Joy, what would happen if I were also to get sick. They insisted I go for a physical examination. Now, I am a healthy, robust 67-year-old man with an attitude toward life leaning toward the "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" school. My last physical was in the middle of a campaign nine years ago and I somehow was too busy to get to the lab for the blood test. I had never had a PSA test.

So, on May 15, I went for my physical. As predicted, there was nothing found to raise any concern. A week or so later, my doctor called to review my lab test results. Everything was fine, except my PSA was 9.8. I guess all men my age know the magic number for this test is 4. I was well above it, but my doctor said between 4 and 10 was a "marginal" reading and needed to be followed up by a urologist.

June 11 was set for that visit and I went off to the Denver conference with that ahead of me. It was difficult for me with Kaiser Permanente, my HMO, sponsoring the conference and offering blood screening. The Conference informational and educational programs about prostate cancer were evident throughout the meeting. I tried to rationalize it, but it wasn't easy. I was worried.

The visit to the urologist was mostly informational, although he did a DRE (digital rectal examination) and could feel nothing. I was scheduled for an ultrasound and biopsy on July 3. This is the same process used on pregnant women, but internally to establish the characteristics of the prostate gland, looking for abnormal areas. Included with the ultrasound probe is a biopsy gun which uses air to shoot a tiny needle into areas of the prostate to collect samples for analysis. This test took only a few minutes and, while it wasn't something I would choose to do, was essentially painless. It was more uncomfortable than anything.

Then, on July 8, I got the diagnosis. I have a small T1c (no symptoms, tumor not felt during DRE but found by biopsy) cancer of the prostate. The decision matrix for someone in my condition, at my age, with my health status and life expectancy presented two options, radiation therapy or radical prostatectomy (surgical removal of the prostate). I was given a week or two to make a decision.

I spent the first week talking to family and friends, reviewing the literature, searching the internet (maybe the best resource available), and weighing the options. I decided radiation was the best choice for me.

I was referred to the Radiation Oncology Center and met with the doctor on the 22nd. We discussed the therapy and various side effects and he didn't change my mind. A week later, they did a CAT scan to provide a base for the therapy and I had three dots tattooed on my lower abdomen to serve as the targets for the therapy radiation source.

Then, on August 4, I began the therapy regimen. Every weekday morning for eight weeks (40 treatments), I go to the center and the machine focuses the beam at the tumor from 4 different directions for 30-45 seconds each. The process takes a total of less than 15 minutes and is painless. In fact, throughout this entire process, nothing has "hurt" yet. Some of it is uncomfortable or unusual, but it doesn't hurt.

By the end of September, this whole thing will be done. Early detection with the screening tools available should add years to my life and allow me a longer retirement after I leave office the end of next year. And those years should be healthier and more active than they might have been — all of this due to giant strides in the medical technology world.

We must always remember a cancer diagnosis is not anything over which we have control. It does not diminish us; we are as smart as before, as personable, as wise, as kind. We are the same people. We win arguments and battles by being better than our opponents. In the battle against cancer, we must be better than it. I saw a t'shirt this morning which said "The shame is not in losing, but in giving up." I know I am better than this cancer and I know I won't give up.

I share my story in the hopes that men will take advantage of the tools available. If you are at least 50 years old, healthy, and expect to live another 10 years, you should have a DRE and a PSA blood test. African-Americans and those with a family history of prostate cancer should consider these tests at 45 years old. The decision to treat or not to treat is a personal and family decision, but early detection can do nothing but help. I urge you to schedule an examination today.