As of Today I Have 14 Radiation Treatments Under My Belt, Pun Intended!

SomkiatFakmee. Getty Images.

As of today, I've got 14 radiation treatments under my belt, pun intended!

Fifteen minutes after arriving at the Brigham and Women's/Sturdy Memorial Radiation Oncology Center in Mansfield (Massachusetts) at 7:00 a.m., my sneakers are off, my pockets are empty, and I'm lying down on the radiation table. Then, one of the techs places a folded white sheet over my crotch, which is my cue to lower my sweatpants/briefs down to my junk to reveal the tattoos that were placed on both sides of my hips. The tats have to line up with a green laser that's recessed into one of the drop ceiling tiles above before the radiation can begin. It's a built-in fail-safe, so the radiation hits its mark and doesn't damage other organs. That's why the solid gold fiduciary markers were placed on my prostate several weeks before radiation began. They provide a target and ensure the radiation is aimed properly and hits its mark. The two techs working the room move me around until I'm lined up, which only takes a minute because they're really good at what they do. High praise to them for choosing a profession/career that is directly responsible for saving lives. Thank you!

There's a pre-radiation protocol that's required in order to receive treatment. I need to "take a dump/drop a deuce/take a shit", however, you say it, before the appointment, to clear myself. That means waking up at 4:45 to have breakfast, so I have enough time to digest and do my business. The medical term for this is "having a bowel movement", which sounds so geriatric, but that's where I am currently. I'm a 66-year-old man with prostate cancer doing my best to stay alive… 

Then, beginning 40 minutes prior to the 7:15 appointment time, I have to drink 20 ounces of water before I leave my house. Then on the way there, I start drinking another 20-ounce bottle of water, and after checking in, I finish it in the waiting room. The 40 ounces of water fills my bladder, ensuring it's out of the way so my prostate can be fully accessed during radiation.

Because I chose the 44-day treatment plan and not the 28, the radiation treatments only take 10 minutes to complete once I'm positioned on the table. I have treatments scheduled Monday-Friday, right through February 23rd. In the event I miss a treatment, or there's enough snow to shut the facility down, those days will be added on at the end, not too unlike the extra minutes added on at the end of a world cup soccer game. On Tuesdays, I meet with my physician assistant first and then my doctor.

The state-of-the-art radiation machine is very intense and has multiple moving parts that rotate around me as I receive radiation both above and below the table. One time, the machine wasn't working, and because it was a software issue and not a hardware problem, a remote technician was able to take control and fix it in under 15 minutes. On Monday, when I asked my tech if the machine was working okay, she shushed me quickly, "Quiet, she'll hear you, and it's bad karma to talk like that…" Imagine that, one more female in my life I have to be careful around or else! In addition to my wife, my GPS, and my Australian-tongued Alexa, now there's also a radiation machine of the female gender!

Since starting radiation treatment, I've been living in sweatpants, it's just easier. But, I'll admit, put a few more rings on my fingers, a gold bracelet and a watch on my wrists, and I'd start looking a lot like a cast member from The Sopranos…

When my treatment's all done, and my sneakers are back on, I do a full sprint to the bathroom. So far, I've made it without issue. One time I made a bad decision, electing to wait till I got home, and it was close, too close. Now, I make sure to take a piss before I head out the door. I've recently gotten into the habit of leaving the toilet seat up, something I've never done before, so the next guy doesn't have to raise it. And, why not? Having Prostate Cancer has really bonded me with my brethren…

"This guy's walkin' down the street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep, he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, 'Hey you! Can you help me out?' The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole, and moves on.

Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, 'Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?' The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole, and moves on. 

Then a friend walks by. 'Hey Joe, it's me, can you help me out?' And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, 'Are you stupid? Now we're both down here!' The friend says, 'Yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out…'" 

I've connected with a lot of incredible guys through Dana-Farber's "One-to-One" support program, a program that connects guys of similar age who have or have had, prostate cancer. I've also met other guys through Twitter. These are guys who have been through the process, and their help has been so important to my journey that I can't thank them enough. Bob G (Dana), John P (Dana), Ken H, (Twitter), and a brilliant young Urologist out of Florida named Justin Dubin, MD, who, in addition to being a die-hard Giants fan, has become a great friend and confidant (Twitter).

It was during week two of radiation that I began experiencing "the burn" when I took a leak, and it lingered for an hour and a half afterward. Wow! Talk about "where you breathe". I told my doctor about the sudden burning pain, and she prescribed Phenazopyridi-NE, a drug used to reduce swelling of the urethra, which can happen during radiation and when people have urinary tract infections (UTIs). She warned me it would turn my urine bright orange, and I'm so glad she did. I would've freaked out if I saw an orange stream hitting the bowl without knowing about it ahead of time. It has worked wonders. Despite all my efforts and above-average aim, I'm normally a fucking sharpshooter when it comes to hitting the water in the bowl, now my toilet looks like a fucking crime scene. Maybe I should put caution tape around it?  

I'm excited to get through the radiation treatments and to stop the Hormone Suppression Therapy, which is totally fucking with my manhood. I've had to cancel all my adult film auditions until further notice. Without any Testosterone, I'm just not the same guy I used to be, but I've been told my cancer is curable, and I will be back! Hooah!

The best news is I'm very optimistic about making a 100% recovery and being cancer-free, but I understand I still have a long way to go…

There's still time to buy some Prostate Cancer Awareness Merch, with 100% of the net proceeds being donated to Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. Think of it as a donation to a worthy cause…