Wellbeing
After having to tell one man he has a PSA of 12, I have a heightened admiration for our healthcare professionals.
On Saturday, I had the honor of attending the The African American Men’s Health and Empowerment Summit here in Los Angeles, sponsored each year by the Black Barbershop Health Outreach Program (BBHOP). Black men are 60 percent more likely to be diagnosed with prostate cancer and 2.4 times more likely to die from it. They are also disproportionately affected by diabetes and hypertension. Thus, the summit is an important local event that the BBHOP does extremely well.
As a patient and advocate, I was originally scheduled to participate on an afternoon prostate cancer panel with Dr. Stanley Frencher who heads up the prostate education program for BBHOP. Because Dr. Frencher was called in to perform an emergency surgery Friday evening on the east coast and was delayed in getting to the conference, I was asked to lead the morning workshop on understanding prostate cancer and PSA screening. I am pleased to say that, with the aid of a rather good instructional video, the workshop went well. The group of men engaged with the video and a genuine patient who was able to provide some personal perspectives.
As part of the summit, attendees were able to be screened for diabetes and hypertension, as well as receive a PSA screening. Their PSA results were delivered shortly after the blood draw. I am pleased to say that the vast majority of results that I saw were in the less than 1.0 – 3.0 ng/mL range. It was a good effort. Men were gaining an important understanding of prostate cancer and getting a baseline reading they could share with their physicians.
That was until the early afternoon when I was talking with one gentleman who was awaiting his PSA result. When the volunteer runner approached us and produced this man’s results report, I could hear a hesitation in the volunteer’s voice. Before he could say anything more–there was a deep sigh already forming in the young messenger’s windpipe–I quickly pulled the man’s report and said, in my best calm voice, “let’s take a look at your PSA report…” as I steered the attendee to a quiet corner. I had already seen the number “12″ on the page. It seemed to shout out from the report even though it was the same type size as the rest of the printed data.
Without skipping a beat, I reiterated to the gentleman that I was not a healthcare professional, but rather a patient who has gone through the process and went on to tell him that he should schedule an appointment with his primary care physician to discuss the results. I then explained how the PSA is not cancer-specific and how it could be an indication of another prostate condition or even a false positive. I outlined how this is a diagnostic process and impressed upon him the importance of not putting any cart before the horse. He was appreciative. I also reminded him that should he ultimately be told he has cancer, early detection and treatment can result in some very good outcomes. He told me that he had every intention of taking care of his health for the sake of his family–he was going to call his doctor’s office on Monday to schedule an appointment. As we shook hands, I reminded him of the online resources that are available to him and he thanked me.
Since Saturday, this man has lived in my mind. It is difficult to shake him from my waking thoughts. I am left wondering where this information will take him. Will he be joining the ranks of those diagnosed with prostate cancer? Will his world be rocked as a result of his coming to the event? If cancer, what kind of treatment will be appropriate for his case? Or, will it be some other condition that is more readily treatable with less emotional stress? I pray that his reality is the latter.
To say that I was touched by the events of this weekend is an understatement. As it was about a year ago that I was told my PSA had nearly doubled, I could guess what he was feeling all too well. I wish there was some magical way to change his results. But I know I can’t. Information is a valuable ally.
Through all of this, I came away from Saturday with a heightened admiration for medical professionals who have to deliver similar news to perhaps multiple patients each and everyday. All I can ask, is: How do they do it?
On Saturday, I had the honor of attending the The African American Men’s Health and Empowerment Summit here in Los Angeles, sponsored each year by the Black Barbershop Health Outreach Program (BBHOP). Black men are 60 percent more likely to be diagnosed with prostate cancer and 2.4 times more likely to die from it. They are also disproportionately affected by diabetes and hypertension. Thus, the summit is an important local event that the BBHOP does extremely well.
As a patient and advocate, I was originally scheduled to participate on an afternoon prostate cancer panel with Dr. Stanley Frencher who heads up the prostate education program for BBHOP. Because Dr. Frencher was called in to perform an emergency surgery Friday evening on the east coast and was delayed in getting to the conference, I was asked to lead the morning workshop on understanding prostate cancer and PSA screening. I am pleased to say that, with the aid of a rather good instructional video, the workshop went well. The group of men engaged with the video and a genuine patient who was able to provide some personal perspectives.
As part of the summit, attendees were able to be screened for diabetes and hypertension, as well as receive a PSA screening. Their PSA results were delivered shortly after the blood draw. I am pleased to say that the vast majority of results that I saw were in the less than 1.0 – 3.0 ng/mL range. It was a good effort. Men were gaining an important understanding of prostate cancer and getting a baseline reading they could share with their physicians.
That was until the early afternoon when I was talking with one gentleman who was awaiting his PSA result. When the volunteer runner approached us and produced this man’s results report, I could hear a hesitation in the volunteer’s voice. Before he could say anything more–there was a deep sigh already forming in the young messenger’s windpipe–I quickly pulled the man’s report and said, in my best calm voice, “let’s take a look at your PSA report…” as I steered the attendee to a quiet corner. I had already seen the number “12″ on the page. It seemed to shout out from the report even though it was the same type size as the rest of the printed data.
Without skipping a beat, I reiterated to the gentleman that I was not a healthcare professional, but rather a patient who has gone through the process and went on to tell him that he should schedule an appointment with his primary care physician to discuss the results. I then explained how the PSA is not cancer-specific and how it could be an indication of another prostate condition or even a false positive. I outlined how this is a diagnostic process and impressed upon him the importance of not putting any cart before the horse. He was appreciative. I also reminded him that should he ultimately be told he has cancer, early detection and treatment can result in some very good outcomes. He told me that he had every intention of taking care of his health for the sake of his family–he was going to call his doctor’s office on Monday to schedule an appointment. As we shook hands, I reminded him of the online resources that are available to him and he thanked me.
Since Saturday, this man has lived in my mind. It is difficult to shake him from my waking thoughts. I am left wondering where this information will take him. Will he be joining the ranks of those diagnosed with prostate cancer? Will his world be rocked as a result of his coming to the event? If cancer, what kind of treatment will be appropriate for his case? Or, will it be some other condition that is more readily treatable with less emotional stress? I pray that his reality is the latter.
To say that I was touched by the events of this weekend is an understatement. As it was about a year ago that I was told my PSA had nearly doubled, I could guess what he was feeling all too well. I wish there was some magical way to change his results. But I know I can’t. Information is a valuable ally.
Through all of this, I came away from Saturday with a heightened admiration for medical professionals who have to deliver similar news to perhaps multiple patients each and everyday. All I can ask, is: How do they do it?