Dennis Maneri

On Friday July 13, 2018 -- yeah, I know, Friday the 13th -- the day I got the 2-year prognosis, I was given my first Lupron shot, a chemical injection which started the process of killing my body's ability to produce testosterone, the primary, enabling hormone for prostate cancer.  I was also given an oral drug that would do the same.  Basically, I would be chemically emasculated.  I was willing to accept that trade-off because the implication was clear: without Lupron, I wouldn't last long; with it, I'd get two precious years.  The surgeon who operated on me had -- with sympathy -- decided to not remove my prostate nor the two nearby metastasized lymph nodes, because, he said, "That wouldn't cure you." ​

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Driving home from the doctor's office that day, I thought if I could stay healthy enough, the 2-year window would give me a chance to figure out a way to buy time -- and, I'm happy to write, I've been able to do that.  But rather than being saved by a medical breakthrough, I found I could render my cancer dormant through a daily discipline of simple and specific steps that maximized the effect of the medications I was given.  

 

Having passed that improbable 2-year anniversary by more than five years and having regained health, I am now, with my doctors, monitoring my blood panels and getting scanned every year to be alerted should my prostate cancer again become dangerously active.  I have great confidence in believing it won't. 

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The turning point for me came two days after the terminal prognosis when I got a call from the man who was then my PCP -- the person who pointed me toward saving my own life.  The first question he asked was whether or not I wanted to live.  When I answered yes, he told me I absolutely could not live in fear of cancer or my thoughts would undermine any healing and I would, indeed, die in two years. I immediately  embarked upon changing my body chemistry through a plant-based diet, a regular meditation practice and a change in lifestyle.  Recognizing mental habits which I knew had affected my health, I broke my habit of ruminating and the negative internal monologue that had so often crushed vestiges of self love.  Basically, I looked back  -- and without judgement -- took stock of myself and made the changes necessary to look forward, past cancer.

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It's worked out the way I taught myself to imagine it.

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By the end of October 2018 -- just 3 months after the initial diagnosis -- a CT Scan revealed that one metastasized lymph node was dramatically reduced and the big one near my prostate had shrunk in size by nearly half.  By December, my prostate specific antigens (PSA’s) which are often -- though not always -- a reliable indicator of prostate cancer, were down to an untraceable level; basically, zero.

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The following spring, I was able to stop taking the oral medication and my unsettled Oncologist and I agreed to part ways.  I continued to take Lupron injections for the maximum months advised by the AMA.  I never took chemo.

I never had radiation. 

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These days, my doctors -- asking me if I realize how surprisingly well I'm doing -- look at me in a different light.  And while no one can tell me how long I'm going to live, I do know this:  It's been a lot longer than two years.