From: James Algiers <james.algiers@gmail.com>

Subject: Blind Sided

Date: October 4, 2014, at 9:34:07 PM CDT

Blind Sided

Dear Louie,

You may be gone, but I need you- to listen, to smile, to understand. And so I again write to you, my friend, to guide me at this time of true trial and tribulation as I guided you through your prolonged trip through the “Vale of Tears.”

Imagine, just one day, one day when suddenly one is faced with the potential for true mortality when one must pause, look at one’s self and say that the weight of evidence is stating, not suggesting that - you are mortal, that you have turned the corner and weighty evidence suggests --you will die soon. No longer some time, no longer in the future, but unless the lab data is askew, the date is probably soon, much sooner than one was led to believe just a few days ago. 

Suddenly one day in the fall, it all fell apart with the lab result of a high, very high PSA. A sevenfold result from an elevated baseline nine months ago, a baseline with reference that” most all old men might expect a diagnosis of Carcinoma of the Prostate if they live long enough.” Well, I have not lived long enough; eighty-eight is not enough. However, suddenly I was faced with facts that suggested that perhaps eighty-eight was enough, was all that was granted, or will be granted. Suddenly time stood still, suddenly the wetness of my palms was not sunshine and warmth but fear and anxiety. I was frightened, fearful, and suddenly very vulnerable. The lab data was mine, the name on the paper was mine, not a patient, not a case study. It was mine.

It mattered little that the urologist stated, “You have had a long life.” He might have said, “What do you expect immortality?”

I responded, “Perhaps I did.” 

I might have stated, “How do I get more?”

It has taken a few days to come to some conclusion, at least I think I have come to some conclusion - I am asymptomatic at present, except for prostatism of frequency, hesitancy, and dribbling. I have no bone pain, no nodes, and minimal age-related aches and pains, but nothing of magnitude. I am and will remain optimistic. I will have a biopsy in ten days, and then I will join the ranks of other optimists, realists, and pessimists as I address the potential of a “few more months.” 

And as I ask, “Why me?”  

A voice  in the background  answers, “Why not you.” 

That, Louis, is my problem.

But Louis, that is not my problem alone. I have heard the question time and time again.  And all the vagaries of presentation to the age-old question of “Why me, and why now” end with the answer “Why not.” 

 I believe there is no one to be spared, but there are damn few of us who have blind acceptance to fate or whatever one might call participation in the human equation and all its vagaries.

So Louie, now in the eternal location of heaven, hell, or whatever; if only we here had some insight into whatever awaits us on departure, perhaps the journey here would be easier at times like this. I would hope so. 

And until later, I remain, Jim.

Keep the faith, my friend.