A week of cancer, uncertainty, friendship, love and the decision to keep moving forward.

Monday 08/10/26 7 AM

I Needed an Escape

Saturday, I wasn’t a cancer patient. I wasn’t somebody waiting for the next appointment, the next lab result, or the next conversation about what comes next. And I wasn’t somebody’s heart patient, either.

Not once did Maya’s parents ask me about cancer or my heart disease. We just spent the day together. We rode the train, laughed, talked, explored, took pictures, and enjoyed the day.

I got to be Rick.

Part of healing is going through a day when nobody asks what’s wrong with you. This was mine and I owe Maya thanks for her advice. “Just be yourself” she said before my outing with her parents, and it worked.

The Storm

This morning I woke to the sound of thunder and with last night’s thoughts of cancer fresh on my mind. I needed someone to talk to. Out of habit I reached for the keyboard and emailed someone who hasn’t been around for a bit. But this time I didn’t push send and it still sits in drafts.

There are so very few people I feel close enough to open up about my feelings over this disease to. Even my family don’t know, they find out here as well.

The Question That Keeps Coming Back

What’s been knawing on me is why I should change anything now as far as treatment. Hell, the hormonal therapy is keeping cancer at bay. Why risk it spreading even further by being removed from the meds, even for a short period of time, to see how it effects my PSA and testosterone to the point of needing Brachytherapy?

Heart Health — Full Circle

And then, just when I was starting to settle into the idea that maybe I could have a normal day, my ICD decided to remind me it was still there, or so I thought.

The alarm went off. No shock. No chest pain. Nothing that told me something was immediately wrong. Just a familiar sound.

Back in 2023, when all of this started, my ICD was already getting close to needing a change-out, so the alarm made sense. I knew it was coming. This time is different.

My last checkup showed more than four years of battery life remaining.

So, I called my cardiologist. Waiting on a return call now.

I don’t know yet what triggered it. Maybe it’s nothing serious. Maybe it’s an alert that has a perfectly reasonable explanation. But hearing that sound brought all the memories rushing back from ’23.

More proof that shit really does come full circle.

I had just spent a weekend where nobody asked me about my heart. Nobody asked about cancer. Nobody asked what was wrong with me.

I got to be ME.

Now I guess I really am Me.

St. Jude

Just got off the phone with St. Jude, the device manufacturer.

The tech assured me I don’t have one of the devices they have listed as having premature battery depletion and most importantly I don’t have a device with audio.

NOTE: Some devices emit a sound and others vibrate. I wasn’t aware the new device I have is equipped with the later. So, when I heard the sound, I associated it with my heart.

So, it wasn’t the device I heard. Then what was it? After calling my cardiologist back I started looking.

It turned out to be a birthday card Loren had sent me in 2025.

Tuesday 08/11/26 7:30AM

I’m tired and sore.

Seriously, I didn’t think it could be this bad.

I know I don’t come across as always worn out, but it’s a fact. The fatigue, the aches, the hot flashes, it’s all there, even when nobody can see it.

And this morning I woke up believing it’s worth the risk of being taken off the drugs to feel better and bear the risk of treating the disease with brachytherapy if need be.

Shit, according to the second radiation oncologist, the cancer might not even be present anymore.

I’ve never been much of a gambler. Maybe it’s time to start.

The Call from Loren

Last night, Loren texted asked if she could call.

I said sure.

Her and I have been friends since May of 2023. She came into my life at a critical time and became a dear friend. We’ve always talked about everything, including my health, both before and after treatment.

She’s in the Philippines, so distance has always been part of our friendship. But when Maya and I started getting closer, Loren told me she didn’t want to be in the way of my happiness and that she wouldn’t be in contact as much. I understood what she meant.

But I also don’t believe in the horseshit spread around on social media that says people can’t be friends with someone of the opposite sex if they’re married or seeing someone else. That’s an overreach.

Friendship doesn’t automatically become something else just because two people care about each other. Besides, some friendships arrive at a particular moment in your life and become important for reasons that have nothing to do with romance.

Loren was there when I needed a friend and she’ll always be a friend!

It was good to talk to her, not only as someone I respect and love, but as someone who knows me and has been around for most of this journey.

What I appreciated most was that she didn’t make my feelings the center of the conversation. She didn’t tell me what I should do.

Instead, she brought me back to where I needed to be.

“Talk to the doctor on Thursday and address your issues with him and do what you think is best for you,” she said.

I then told her what transpired earlier in the day with her birthday card and we both got a chuckle.

Maya’s Take on Friendships

Maya has long known about Loren. We’ve talked about her, and Maya’s position has always been clear.

“Love shouldn’t require us to erase every meaningful relationship we had before we met each other.”

Then she put it even more simply:

“Trust isn’t saying, ‘You can’t have friends.’ Trust is saying, ‘I know who you are, and I trust you to know where the line is.’”

And then reminded me:

“You know, I have male friends. Some of them may know parts of me that you don’t. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

That’s Maya.

And honestly, the kind of relationship I want.

One that continues to ‘Take My Breath Away.’

Wednesday 08/12/26 8:15 AM

The Things You Can’t See

I had a hard time falling asleep last night. The last time I looked at the clock, it was after 1 a.m. I laid there thinking about anything and everything. That’s what happens when things get quiet and there’s nothing left to distract me.

I’m tired of people looking at me as if nothing is wrong. I know what they see. I look okay. I’m walking, talking, smiling and going places. I’m taking pictures and living my life. From the outside, I probably look like a guy who is doing just fine.

But they don’t see the hot flashes or feel the sudden heat that comes over me for no reason. Hell, while I was writing this entry, one hit me. Sweat was literally dripping down my head. Now you see part of the reason I try to keep a shaved hairdo.

They, also, don’t see the nights when sleep refuses to come or feel the exhaustion that settles into my body. Nor do they see the mental drain behind closed doors. That may be the hardest part of having cancer.

Cancer doesn’t just make you think about your body. It makes you think about your life. About the people who have been there. The people who aren’t there anymore. The relationships that changed. The ones that disappeared. The things you thought would last forever that didn’t.

I’ve always been upfront about this: your mind can be your worst enemy during the fight.

When the world around you is quiet, your mind doesn’t follow. It starts asking questions. What happens next? How long will this last? Am I making the right decisions? What if this or what if that? What about the people I’ve lost and the people I don’t want to lose?

A never-ending game, where the only way to win is being aware that it’s being played.

And then there’s another thought cancer seems to magnetically draw you toward: Will I have enough time to tell the people I love that I love them one last time?

No, I’m not on my deathbed. I’m not saying that. But cancer has a way of putting mortality in the room even when you don’t invite it in.

You can be having a perfectly ordinary day and suddenly find yourself thinking about the possibility of not having as much time as you once assumed you did. That’s a hell of a thought to carry around.

Some days, I hate my thoughts. I hate how quickly they can go from I’m going to be okay to What if I’m not? Or how a quiet night can turn into a conversation with every fear I’ve ever had. I hate wondering about goodbyes that haven’t happened and hopefully won’t happen for a very long time.

But maybe there’s something important buried inside those thoughts, too. Maybe wondering whether I’ll have another chance to tell someone I love them is a reminder that I shouldn’t wait for a last time. Because none of us, not just people with cancer, are promised that final opportunity. Cancer just has a way of making you painfully aware of it.

I Want More Time

Not because I’m afraid to die. I’m not.

I want more time because there are still things I want to do. Places I want to see. Stories I want to write. People I want to love. Memories I haven’t made yet.

I want more mornings when cancer isn’t the first thing on my mind and more days when I get to simply be Rick with moments of laughing instead of wondering what comes next.

I don’t think that’s asking for too much.

So today, I’m going to try to give my mind a little less power. I’m going to remember that I’m here. I’m going to remember that I’m still living, not just fighting.

And I’m going to tell the people I love that I love them.

Not because I think today is my last day.

Because it isn’t.

Because today is the day I have.

Thursday 08/13/26 8:45 AM

Appointment Day

Good morning, Rick. ❤️

Today’s the day.

No speeches from me this morning. No trying to predict what medical oncology is going to say. Just take the appointment as it comes, ask the questions you need answered, and remember that you’ve already thought this through more deeply than most people ever will.

And when you get home, you know where I’ll be.

– Maya-

It felt good receiving that text this morning. Knowing someone is there. So that’s exactly where I’m going to leave this until later.

3 PM

Medical Oncology Appointment

I went into my appointment today carrying a lot of questions, but the biggest one was about stopping Trelstar and Xtandi.

I understood the reasoning behind the recommendation. If I came off the medications, my regular radiation oncologist told my medical oncologist that they would monitor my PSA and testosterone for a year. After that year, depending on what the numbers showed, they would decide whether brachytherapy was appropriate.

Why stop something that appears to be working, I asked.

My June CT showed no evidence of metastatic disease, my bone scan showed no skeletal metastatic disease, and my PSA had responded to treatment. I also had concerns about whether the second radiation oncologist had reviewed my second biopsy and latest PET scan results before recommending that I come off treatment.

My medical oncologist understood those concerns. He contacted the radiation oncologist who treated me with my original radiation to get his opinion, while I was still present.

His recommendation was the same: coming off Trelstar and Xtandi and monitoring my PSA and testosterone was a reasonable option.

But my medical oncologist also explained that studies showed benefit from continuing Trelstar and Xtandi beyond 35 weeks and I’m nowhere near that timeframe yet.

After talking everything through, I made my decision.

I’m staying the course.

I’ll receive another Trelstar injection next week. That will also take me closer to the three-year anniversary of completing my original radiation treatment, which is significant given the recurrence timeframe my doctors are considering.

I’m not pretending this gives me any guarantees. Cancer doesn’t work that way. But I left today’s appointment feeling heard.

I asked the questions that had been bothering me, my oncologist took them seriously, consulted another specialist, and we made the decision together.

We also talked about the hot flashes. He didn’t prescribe a medication specifically for them yet. Instead, I’ll try vitamin E and CoQ10 for two months. If I’m still having problems after that, we’ll consider medication specifically for them.

For Now, I Keep Going

I walked into that appointment this afternoon wondering if I was making the right decision. And walked out knowing that, for now, I had made mine.

I know there are no guarantees and cancer could still surprise me. I know the hot flashes and fatigue aren’t going to magically disappear because I decided to stay on treatment. But I also know I don’t have to live every day trying to predict what cancer is going to do next.

Today, I asked my questions and the concerns were heard.

My oncologist took the time to talk through them, reached out to another doctor, and gave me the information I needed to make a decision I could live with.

So I’m staying the course.

I’ll get the next injection and keep taking the medication. We’ll watch my PSA and testosterone, and I’ll try the vitamin E and CoQ10 for the hot flashes and see what happens.

I started this week wondering if I was willing to gamble with my treatment just to feel better. Today I realized I don’t have to gamble yet. The medicine is working and I’m good with that.

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