Official Member, Three-Time Cancer, Cockroach-Killer Club

Eleven years ago, I wrote my first blog post about prostate cancer. I compared treatment options to a bunch of exterminators showing up to deal with a cockroach on your kitchen table. I chose the guy with the 12-gauge shotgun — IMRT radiation — and for a while, it worked.

Then in 2022, a new cockroach moved in — this one took up residence in my throat. That little pest cost me 35 rounds of radiation, 7 rounds of chemo, 90 pounds, my ability to eat like a normal person, and eventually my beard.

I lived on yummy, gourmet PEG tube meals for a while — five-star slurries right into the gut. I tried to grow the beard back afterward, but what I’ve got now looks like mange on a tired possum. So yeah, beard’s retired. Permanently.

And now it’s 2025… and wouldn’t you know it?

Another brand-new cockroach — this time, it’s back in the prostate. Not the same one from 2014. That one’s long gone. This one’s new, angry, and showing up in places the old one didn’t.

My PSA went from 0.3—‘no worries’—to 3.83—‘hold my beer. If this were a stock chart, I’d be rich. Instead, I just got a trip to MD Anderson at Houston and a free ride on the endorectal MRI express — an MRI with an endorectal coil.

For the uninitiated, it’s called an endorectal coil. They insert it, inflate it, scan you for 45 minutes like you’re a lab rat—then yank it out, light a cigarette, and ask, ‘Was it good for you too?
Want to learn more? Search “MRI fusion biopsy image” on Google.

That joy was followed by a transperineal MRI fusion-guided biopsy at MD Anderson, which confirmed the news:

• Prostatic adenocarcinoma
• Gleason score 8 (4+4)
• Grade Group 4
• Multiple foci, largest being 8 mm, 7 mm, and 5 mm, all on the right side
• No therapy effect seen — meaning this isn’t leftover cancer from before; it’s fresh and uninvited

The plan: Salvage HDR Brachytherapy.

That’s when they insert temporary radioactive sources directly into the prostate — like stabbing the cockroach right in the thorax with a glowing ice pick. It’s aggressive, it’s targeted, and it’s basically our best shot now. More about Salvage HDR Brachytherapy.

MD Anderson Cancer Center

Sheri and I are doing four trips to Houston in July. After 44 years together, it’s less of a road trip and more of a well-rehearsed comedy routine.

She actually drives better in Houston than I do—calm, unbothered, and just the right amount of dangerous. I mostly focus on breathing and yelling at the GPS. 

So, no dramatic declarations this time. Just an update for those following this beard-to-beardless-to-battle journey. The fights get tougher. The options get thinner. But I’m still in it — and any time I say “I,” what I really mean is me and Sheri.

She’s been in every exam room, every waiting room, and every hallway beside me. She’s made nurses cry, doctors stutter, and me keep going on days I would’ve rather curled up and quit. This is our fight, not just mine — I just happen to be the one glowing.

What I know now, after three cancers:

• Cancer doesn’t care about your plans, your age, or your facial hair.
• The endorectal coil should come with a two-drink minimum.
• PEG tube meals are not on the Food Network, for good reason.
• My wife Sheri is still the toughest person in the room.
• My daughter Khara still manages to make me laugh when I most need it.
• Humor is still the best medicine. But anesthesia is a close second.

And finally —

It’s cancer. People get it. I’m not special. Why not me?
Like Charlie Brown said: “Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up.”
Figures.

That’s enough for now.
—Clayton (AKA – George)