John "If You Were My Brother"
Photo by Randy Bacon
My story begins with a buzzing cell phone. Well, sort of. It probably truly began generations ago. History works like that. Anyway, that buzzing cell phone sitting on my “mancave” desk at home had a familiar number. A call I just knew would bring good news. “Well, I’m afraid not,” the friendly but firm voice on the other end provided. “You actually had a Gleason score of six.” It’s that moment you’ve heard about from others and looking back I knew it was coming. Not if, but when. Medical history works like that. I had cancer. Prostate cancer. The “when” was “now”, not many years older than when my grandfather and father had been diagnosed. Now. And yet, knowing my family medical history would save my life. It works like that when you pay attention. In my case, it was annual PSA blood tests that eventually prompted my physician to refer me to The University of Kansas Health System.
“If you were my brother, I’d tell you to get it out.” My wife and I remember that moment. Dr. Brant Thrasher, then Chair of the KU Department of Urology I had been referred to, with kind eyes and a calm presence, outlined my options. And in that moment, added a personal touch we remember as powerful. A moment good enough for us as our eyes met. We took his advice, opting for surgery, knowing the challenges it would bring. But hopefully with early detection, the clean bill of health I would then enjoy.
You can’t overcome those challenges of incontinence or erectile dysfunction or whatever, if you aren’t around to overcome them. I awoke to a visit from Dr. Thrasher a few hours after the robotic procedure at The University of Kansas Hospital with (this time) good news: the surgery had gone well, my future looked bright. And a question; would I share “my story” with others? “Men,” Dr. Thrasher noted, “don’t talk about their health, or advance screening.” Sharing “my story” with men and those who love them, might very well strike a chord, and perhaps save future lives, he thought. You don’t say “no” to the man who just saved yours.
Photo by Randy Bacon
Many years later, I’ve gratefully shared my story with friends and strangers. Speaking at events, or just replying to phone calls or emails. Sometimes a girlfriend or a wife reaches out: “How did you catch it early?” “What treatment did you choose?” “How did you overcome those male challenges?” Now and then, perhaps years later, I’ll hear back from someone I counseled, and smile at their story of survival. But oh, how I wish I could hear from someone else I counseled. My beloved brother. He knew his medical history, and my place in that history. I shared with both of my brothers the importance of screening. Like so many men, he put it off. Perhaps fearful of the “male challenges”, perhaps just too busy. His diagnosis came too late. A brave two-year battle with prostate cancer, including treatment at The University of Kansas Cancer Center, ended with his passing in 2020. My brother knew “my story.” Now, you do too. And as my remaining brother has, I hope you follow your medical history, and a survivor’s advice: get screened, and spread the word. You cannot overcome any challenges…if your story…ends too soon.
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