Evan Saugstad: My prostate, my journey – my surgery (part 3 of 8)

Although September is known as Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, I have chosen to tell my prostate journey for Movember, Men’s Health Month. I have also chosen to discuss subjects that are not normally found in our local newspaper; one’s personal health, one’s sexual health and one’s cancer.

Movember is the month where the largest percentage of donations are made in support of curing men’s cancers and improving our health.  Please support Movember.  

If the discussion of a man’s body parts, or medical procedures or men’s sexual health offends you, then skip the rest of this.  Just be assured I am still alive, still kicking and still adjusting to life with cancer and cancer treatment.

June 5, 2019 – I watched out of the corner of my eye as the nurse took my vitals, a heart rate of 136, up from 116 the previous hour and up from the low 90’s prior to that.  With raised eyebrows and as she looked me over, I could see she was thinking, wondering, “why the steady change”?

I was lying in bed watching tv in the surgical recovery unit of the Lion’s Gate Hospital (LGH), a few short hours after having my prostate removed; IV lines in both arms, massage pumps on my legs to keep the blood moving, a fluid drain in my abdomen and a catheter through my penis and into my bladder.

I needed to explain.

“I am a Raptors fan”, I said, “and this is the 4^th quarter of game 3 of the NBA Finals. Just wait until the game is over, everything will be ok”.  The Raptors and Golden State Warriors had split the first two games in Toronto and this was the pivotal first game of three in California. 

Before the game had started, my heart rate was at my normal of 86 – 90.  Up to 116 in the first half when the Raptors had a small lead, and then to 136 late in the four quarter with Golden State trying to mount a comeback.  Next hour, after another Raptor’s win, back down to 86 and she was finally satisfied that she did not need to summon my Dr.

Earlier that morning, at 530 am, I had walked up the 15 or so blocks from the North Van waterfront hotel we were staying, to the surgery ward at LGH.  A beautiful morning, birds were singing and streets still mostly deserted.  As I walked the thought crossed my mind “I know two people who never woke up after anesthetic”.  Do I really know 160,000 people if one person in 80,000 dies from an anesthetic?  Crazy thoughts.

Into an almost empty hospital, to the admittance desk, then to the surgery ward.  No waiting in line this early and am quickly ready for surgery.  Now about 7 am, wheeled into the coolness of the operating room and a beehive of activity and bright lights, and onto the table.  Masked and gowned people everywhere, a quick check of my name, a nurse then sticking me for an anesthetic line and another for IV’s.  Not sure just what all they did or told me as in mere seconds, I was asleep. 

Now, to put this into perspective, and follow along the thought that men (and more than one woman has informed me), think with two heads – their big one or their little one, but not both, and not at the same time.  There I was, my big head rendered useless and my little one left to fend for himself.  I can only imagine the horror he felt as the nurse peeled back my gown and exposed him to that multitude of masked people, all holding knives or needles, and all staring straight at him.  (Even four months later, I still have a hard time coaxing him out of hiding, but he is getting better).  

Never felt or heard a thing until my Dr asked me how I felt.  Think it was about 1030 am, but may have been 130 pm.  Remembering hearing that things went well, that he thought they got it all, but that my cancer had a focal point (a tiny area) that had breached the skin of my prostate, and that as cancer was close to both sets of nerves, he had also removed part of them.

Back to sleep, and then awake again and soon off to the surgical recovery ward.

Shortly after that Raptor’s win, up out of bed and start walking, IV lines and bags in tow, catheter bag strapped to my ankle.  Don’t lay around they say, get up and get moving, so I did.  Supposed to be sent home next day, but my pelvic drain was still showing blood; Dr decided I must stay another night.  Re-book my Air Canada flight home from the morning to afternoon.  Cost another $600 dollar to delay my flight by four hours.  No exceptions for medical reasonings.

If there was one positive of spending time walking around the surgery recovery ward, it was that my problems paled in comparison to most others.  Yes, I was missing a small piece of my body, had a few stiches and needed about 6 weeks to physically recover.  Most of them faced far greater hurdles than me. 

June 7^th – bleeding has stopped, drain is removed and told to come back in 2 weeks to have the catheter removed and be updated on what they found.   Home to Fort St John before nightfall.

Please support Movember as Men’s Health Month, give generously, and help fund cancer research. If you are over 40 and have not had a PSA test, ask your doctor to prescribe one. If you wish to skip that part, book your own appointment, pay $35, and get your own.  It could save your life. 

Evan, and always willing to talk about my journey and answer any questions you may have.