My nightmare the day before getting radiation treatment results

I had my first nightmare about cancer in the three and a half years since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. And it was the day before getting radiation treatment results. At least, it seems like it should be called a nightmare. I mean, it was about cancer. And yet, like this entire time, it wasn’t scary.

My nightmare the day before getting radiation treatment results is article #29 in the series: Do not waste your cancer. Click this button to view all titles for the entire series

It was kind of weird.

Very unexpected.

Incredibly short.

Way more detailed than normal for my dreams.

Almost surreal.

But was it a premonition of things to come?
Or a picture of what I was going to be avoiding,
either short-term or long-term?

The world goes on, regardless of … whatever happens in our lives …

I can’t believe this is the 29th segment of this series! It’s been just over three and a half years since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

COVID has come and pretty much gone.

One of our dogs is no longer with us. Donny, our (probably) Havanese lost his battle with kidney failure, but loved life right up to the end. The hospital staff all came to say goodbye to him. Neighbors left flowers. People cried. I still haven’t been able to write about his passing, after two years. He was the last one that knew my first two dogs – a combined run of about 30 years.

We have a new dog, Mikey, a very wild rescue. He was scared of literally everything and everyone. His bio was that he hated everything and bit everyone. But one of my oncologists said we (I) should get a dog. That was just after I found out the surgery didn’t remove all of the cancer cells. Now, Mikey’s not an angel. Yet. But he’s come so far! He’s my therapy dog and I’m his therapy person.

And God’s been with us the whole way. If you’ve read much of the series at all, you know this has been so incredibly peaceful. It’s amazing. Unreal. As we Christians say, beyond understanding. See the underlined portion below.

Exhortations

Phil 4:2 I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to agree with each other in the Lord. 3 Yes, and I ask you, loyal yokefellow, help these women who have contended at my side in the cause of the gospel, along with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life.

Phil 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Phil 4:8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 9 Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

So having a nightmare just a few hours before finding out the results from the first blood test after completing radiation treatment was very much unexpected.

My nightmare the day before getting radiation treatment results

However, as I said, it was a weird dream.

I don’t remember ever having such a detailed dream or nightmare before. I was getting chemo. Could actually see the people, the needles, the tubes. So it was chemo and other drugs to offset the side effects of the treatment.

Of course, that meant the radiation treatment wasn’t effective.

It seemed like I wasn’t feeling well. No surprise there. And yet, I was trying, and apparently succeeding, in staying upbeat. For someone who used to be scared to see a doctor for any reason at all, that scene as well as everything I’ve been through these last several years is quite shocking.

But, that’s the way it’s been, ever since a week in the hospital with a staph infection that was causing my internal organs to shut down. There was a “dream” that time as well. The beginnings of feeling that peace from God that’s totally beyond our understanding.

Was it a nightmare or a dream?

You can see, it was kind of weird. Nightmares are scary, aren’t they? But there was no fear in this. It’s like I was just watching. But, what was I watching?

I do believe God does “talk” to us, if/when we take the time to “listen”. And I do feel like that’s what this was. Mostly because it was so “not normal”. I should’ve been feeling awful, considering what was going on. I should’ve been scared, considering what was going on. And all that detail, that’s just now how I dream or have nightmares.

So, was it a nightmare? I don’t think so.

Was it a dream of what was to come? Maybe.

To put it into sort of a Dicken’s / Scrooge point of view – was it a nightmare of things to come, as in the ghost of Christmas yet to come? Or was it a picture of things that might happen?

First off, no, I’m not actually saying it was in the manner of Scrooge. That was making an analogy.

What it felt like to me, after some prayer this morning, was one of two things:

• Was it an image of events to come?
  • If it was to be soon/relatively immediate, I’d find out in a matter of hours.
  • If it’s something in the more distant future, it’s something I’ll learn as time goes on. Although, with cancer, there’s never a time to say it’ll never happen.
• Or, was it an image of something that, by the grace of God, I’d be spared?

Conclusion – My nightmare the day before getting radiation treatment results

The thing is, it could be either. It could also be both.

As it turned out, the blood test this morning showed no detectable traces of cancer. As the guys out there know, PSA levels should only be detectable if you still have a prostate. Once it’s gone, PSA levels should be 0.000. However, even at the cancer hospital I’m going to, there’s o such thing as 0.000. My test result this morning was 0.008 – undetectable.

Therefore, there’s no detectable cancer. If there was a recorded PSA number, that meant there had to be cancer cells. Undetectable means there weren’t any found. But it doesn’t mean there aren’t any. I was at 0.008 for 9 months after surgery. Then it started to go up. And so radiation treatment began.

Now, three months after completing treatment, it’s back to 0.008. Six months from now, I’ll have another test. If that’s also 0.008, then I stay on the every six months schedule for four additional years. Five years total.

But that doesn’t mean there’s no possibility for cancer to return after five years. It just means the measurement will be done as part of my normal annual physical exam. As I said, the possibility of a return never goes away. At best, I can say it’s undetectable.

What does that mean for my two possibilities? It means the dream I had won’t be a reality within the next six months. And every six months during the next five years, if it stays undetectable, that dream won’t be a reality during each subsequent six month period.

After that, it’s a year at a time. For however long God allows me to be here and to, I pray, continue to do His work. And to feel His presence.

The scene in the dream can become real after any given test. And I have two choices of what to do with that. One – I can worry about it. Two – I can remember how awesome the last 3+ years have been. Remember God’s presence through this and the prior staph infection. And feel the joy of being with God and helping others learn about Him.

I choose the latter. And I pray I continue to make that choice. Whatever comes.

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Image by Bing/DALL-E with colored pencil effect added

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