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Being diagnosed with cancer is a totally jarring experience no matter how you get the news. In my case, it came during a 2 day stay in the hospital, where I had been admitted to treat an infection resulting from my prostate biopsy - one triggered by a high PSA count revealed in my annual check-up. Two weeks before, I would never have imagined myself hooked up to a 24-hour antibiotic IV, sharing a room with a very sick man, and with plenty of time to think about what was at stake.
My father died from Prostate Cancer in 2003. For reasons that I will never understand, my father did not receive regular PSA tests. When his cancer was discovered it had spread throughout his body and it was too late for a cure. Although he was given treatments at premier medical facilities here in NYC, he died a miserably painful death 3 years after his diagnosis. The whole experience was devastating to our family, especially in the way it seemed as if no one on his medical team was taking a leadership role over his treatments, or communicating to us in a candid and frank manner. Instead, there was a series of attempts to address the immediate symptoms, with the further consequences of the treatements never, or little discussed with us.
I do not mean to indict the medical profession here. But I will always be haunted by the thought that my father should have enjoyed many more years with us. What could reasonably have been done after his diagnoses was done. Ever the good soldier, my father never questioned his doctors, nor did anything on his own to educate himself about his condition, evidently thinking that it was solely his doctor's job to do that, and that they were doing everything possible to benefit his long term health. He seemed to think that his own role was to be that of the obedient patient and nothing else.
When my own doctor gave me the news it was done very gently as he made his morning rounds. "One of your cores tested positive." The word cancer was not used. He sat down, answered my few questions, and scheuled an appointment at his office where we could discuss the situation in detail. I can't say that I was thunderstruck - my PSA count alone was enough to prepare me a bit for the possibility - but there is a world of difference between "you might have" and "you have" cancer.
Almost immediately I thought of Lance Armstrong. As someone who raced bicycles for many years, I couldn't help but be aware of his incredible accomplishments as a cyclist and followed his results closely years before he became a household name. It's hard to overstate what a powerful example he was to many of us, even as recreational bike racers, and it never crossed my mind that I would have a chance to consider his most import victory - the one over cancer - with anywhere near the same level of empathy. Following the shock of the diagnosis, without my knowledge of his accomplishments, I wonder if I could have said to myself "I can do this" with anywhere near the same level confidence?
It's doubtful.
As I face the challenge of overcoming cancer I have every confidence that the doctors who are working with me will deliver the best care that they can provide. But the fact remains that I can also expect my dialogue with them to be constrained by the same professional reticence we encountered in my father's case. When I read Lance's book - "It's Not About the Bike: My Journey Back to Life", I was more impressed by the self-navigation of his medical journey than by any revelation about his sports exploits. It has been an especially important lesson when facing Prostate Cancer, where there is a lack of concensus within the medical community on how best to deal with it.
We can all benefit from the example of an extraordinary person like Lance Armstrong - someone in our own time, a person we can relate to in an immediate way who has overcome such serious obstacles on so many levels, and then dedicated themselves to creating a foundation whose goal is helping others find the strength to face down the fear one feels when standing on the brink - in both emotional and practical terms. More than anything else, the message from the Lance Armstrong Foundation is one of patient empowerment. It's a role they uniquely fulfill.
With this new perspective, I anticipate continuing my athletics with a much larger sense of purpose. To that end I would like to ask for your help as a Grassroots Fundraiser for the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
Thanks,
Rick Purdy
March 17, 2007