This vaquero (cowboy) dodges a bullet

Three weeks ago we were given a definitive diagnosis of prostate cancer.  Oh goodie.

Preliminary tests suggested it strongly, but a biopsy was the deciding factor.

Not only that, which is bad enough, but the results of the biopsy were that I was at extremely high risk for an aggressive type of prostate cancer.

So three more tests were run, including a bone scan and a CAT scan, because with my preliminary results the likelihood was that it had already metastasized.  The third test looked at the cancer to get a precise reading of its aggressiveness.

So we have been living under a cloud.  Trying, and mostly being successful, at living our lives well anyway.

Yesterday we got the results.  It was caught early.  It is a very high risk cancer if I don't do something in the next few months.  It isn't one of those slow-growing ones that I would likely just have for many years and die with (but not die from).

And it had not spread.

We are scheduling radiation treatments.  There will be 40 of them, over 8 weeks.  We are going to kill that sucker.

My bad joke had been that because some pieces that were inserted into my heart to fix my congenital heart defect were made from cow tissue that I finally, after all of these years, get to be a cowboy.

So, to continue with the bad joke, now I feel like I was ambushed by some bad guns, but luckily dodged all of their bullets.  And now I am shooting back.

I can expect a normal lifespan.  I am truly fortunate. And can take care of my family, and especially Vicky who I promised I would do my best to always be there for.

To celebrate Vicky opened me a bottle of Chianti.  And made me a gigantous order of nachos, which we ate in bed while watching one of our favorite movies:  The Best of Times.

It truly is the best of times for this vaquero and his esposa!