Me too, Joe!

The news that Joe Biden, ex-President of the U.S.A., had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer hit close to home for me. There was a lot of doom-and-gloom reporting, which seemed to me to miss the mark.

I received a very similar diagnosis just over three years ago. After my annual physical, my family doctor ordered a number of routine tests, including the standard marker for prostate cancer, Prostate-Specific Antigen (aka PSA). Normal PSA is 6.5 or less, and mine turned out to be over 300. After a couple of scans, my doctor called me to come in and discuss things. It seemed that I almost certainly had prostate cancer, which appeared to have spread to many points on my bones. He referred me to a specialist, who immediately ordered a biopsy, which then confirmed the diagnosis. The biopsy was perhaps the most unpleasant episode in the whole story (don’t ask!)

There are a variety of treatments for this disease. If the cancer is confined to the prostate, surgery is the treatment of choice, perhaps followed by either chemotherapy, radiation, or both. If the cancer has spread to other places such as bones, there are other treatments available, depending on the actual type of the cancer. My variety is of the type that typically responds well to Androgen Deprivation Therapy (ADT), using drugs that suppress the body’s production of male hormones. Testosterone in particular provides fuel for the cancer’s growth.

I had a short course of radiation (5 sessions) to treat two of the larger bone metastases. This was pretty easy to bear, although the radiation oncologist I saw was the gloomiest of all the doctors I saw, giving me 3 years or 5 if I was lucky. (I’ll come back to that).

The actual course of ADT is pretty easy to deal with. I get a shot in my belly every six months, and take a pill once a day. The shot suppresses hormone production, and the pill (as I understand it) enhances resistance to hormones that might still be floating around. I had a bit of a reaction to the pill — an unsightly rash on my scalp, causing me to lose most of whatever hair I had at the top. It passed, and some of the hair has grown back.

What has been the upshot of this treatment? Four months after the initial diagnosis, my PSA had dropped to around 8. Three months later, in September 2022, my test results said <0.1, which means it’s undetectable. It has stayed there ever since. That’s as good as that gets. Adding to it was a follow-up bone scan in November 2023, which found that almost the spots on my bones had disappeared — a “dramatic reversal” was the radiologist’s comment. Last fall, my urologist said that my cancer is “deeply suppressed.” He didn’t say “in remission,” but that seems to me to be close enough for all reasonable purposes.

The doctor who gave me 3 years or so to live was wrong, thanks be to God. It’s now over 3 years since I saw him, and I’m doing fine. I have heard reports from other men on the same treatment regime, many of whom are also doing fine, some after 15 years or more.

The specific treatment I’m on only became generally available about 6 years ago, so I’m benefiting from the continued advancement of medical knowledge. Many types of cancer used to be short-term death sentences, but people are living happy and productive lives much longer than could have been imagined a few decades ago.

Joe Biden’s cancer is more advanced than mine was at diagnosis, but I believe my story and those of many others give reason for hope. It is said that more men die with prostate cancer than die of it. I’m hoping that will be true for me, and also for Mr. Biden.

There are naturally some mildly bothersome effects of my treatment. They’re a bit personal, but suffice it to say that it pushes the male body back to pre-puberty conditions. The most obvious is the loss of body hair, which curiously does not include facial hair. My beard is more or less as it was before, if a bit grayer. (I am almost 77, after all!). It this is what it takes to stay alive, I’m OK with it.

For me, the important thing is to greet each new day as a gift, trying as much as possible to keep active mentally, spiritually, and physically. The last one is a bit of a challenge, due to an arthritic hip which predates the cancer. I’m probably not a candidate for a hip replacement, because the cancer damaged the femur below the affected hip. So it goes!

The other annoying thing is that I can’t travel outside Canada. Because I was diagnosed with metastatic cancer, no insurer will give me travel insurance. The irony is that I traveled many times without giving any thought to such insurance, thinking I didn’t need it. Now that I know I would need it, I can’t get it!

I have no idea what causes cancer, but what I do know is that early detection is hugely important. Regular screening by your doctor is vital in this regard, and it troubles me that many people (about 1 in 5) do not have access to a family physician, and often don’t get the early detection and treatment that they need. My wife and I were fortunate to find an excellent doctor who was taking new patients when we relocated to Edmonton. Others are not so lucky, sad to say.

And now for a political comment, directed mostly to the province of Alberta: our current government has been at war with the health care system, including the medical profession, for as long as it has been in power. This is shameful and dangerous behaviour, leading to the deterioration of care across the board. Our current premier says she is fixing the system by carving it up into subsections. I don’t understand how a major top-down re-organization helps the folks who are not getting the care they need. Fix things at the bottom — starting with support for family doctors, nurses, associated professionals, and all the people on the ground who make our health care system work.

If you’ve read this far, more power to you! Share it with your friends, especially the male ones. As the old radio show theme song said,
“Keep happy! Keep healthy! To heck with being wealthy!”

Cheers,

Robin

Come Out!

Notes for a sermon preached at Holy Trinity Anglican Church (Strathcona), Edmonton, on June 1, 2025. Text: John 17:20-26 – Easter 7, Year C

Thirty-eight years ago today, Edmonton was in a celebratory mood, after the Oilers won the Stanley Cup on home ice. The street party on Jasper Avenue went on for hours, trapping some friends who had come from Saskatoon for another event. They had parked their car near All Saints Cathedral, right on Jasper. They sat there for a while.

The event they had come for was an ordination at All Saints, when Archbishop Kent Clarke ordained a priest and three deacons, one of whom was me. The ordination took place on the seventh Sunday of Easter, the Sunday we are observing today. My family and friends and I had reason to celebrate, although our celebrations were a bit more muted than the near-chaos on the streets.

Looking back at that day, I realize that I don’t remember much of it, except for a few odd details. What I do know is that the Gospel lesson read that night was taken from the same chapter as the selection we just heard. John 17, known as Jesus’ “High-Priestly Prayer”, is spread over the three years of the Lectionary. The Prayer is at the end of the Farewell Discourse, after the Last Supper, immediately before the Passion. As John tells it, these are the last words in Jesus’ earthly ministry. As his time draws to its end, Jesus first prays for his own “glorification,” going on to pray for his disciples, that they will be protected from evil and sanctified in truth. Finally, in today’s lesson, he prays “…on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.”

This passage has often been used as the Gospel lesson for services of Christian Unity, as churches from different traditions gather to pray that we may be one. In my University years, in the first excitement of the ecumenical movement after Vatican II, many of my Christian friends were running around proclaiming that organic unity was just around the corner. I wish it were so, but historic change usually takes a lot longer than 50 or 60 years. Churches don’t change easily! In recent decades we have entered full communion with other denominations, all taking years of talk and prayer, and those full communion declarations are only half-steps toward visible unity.

However …

One of the things I have observed since June 1, 1987, is that while churches may have erected barriers between themselves and others, those walls often vanish when we seek to serve the wider community. Time does not permit me to elaborate on the many examples in have in mind. Suffice it to say that Churches which have deep differences in doctrine and worship often find themselves much more united when they are called to do things like feed the hungry, care for the homeless, and advocate for people on society’s margins. Getting outside our church buildings brings us together in ways that inviting people to worship with us does not. Shared worship is valuable in itself, but I believe that it is an act with a wider purpose – calling on all God’s people to follow Jesus in the world.

Look over to your right, at the second stained glass window from the front. The image in the central panel is a rendering of William Holman Hunt’s 1854 painting “The Light of the World.” It was inspired by the text of Revelation 3:20: “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.” One of the notable features is that there is no door handle on the outside. Jesus cannot enter unless someone inside opens the door.

Shortly after Pope Francis died, I read a story allegedly dating from the conclave which elected him. It seems that Cardinal Bergoglio, as he was then, preached a short homily to the assembled cardinals, referring to this same image. He suggested that it could be viewed in another way: Jesus, the Light of the World, is inviting people huddled behind locked doors and closed minds to come out and share in his ministry – to come out into the world, to be light-bearers with him amid all the world’s strife and needs. In this view, Jesus is not saying “Let me in,” but “Come out!” The story went on to say that it may have been this homily that helped Cardinal Bergoglio become Pope Francis. I believe his ministry shows how much importance he gave to this message.

While it is sometimes comforting to shut ourselves into our safe spaces (which we absolutely do need!), it is important to remember that the holy havens to which we retreat are not the only places, or even the main places, where the church’s mission is fulfilled. The gathered church is like a ship in harbor, doing little as it remains there. It must eventually set sail to carry its cargo across the open seas. Jesus prays for those who will follow him into those wider places (his disciples) and then for those who believe in him through the disciples’ words – US! – for protection, for unity, and for the bonds of love, which bear us up as we venture into the world beyond these walls. As we go, we are to shed the light of Christ in all places.

As Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount:

‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.’                                                                                       (Matthew 5:14-16)

When the Oilers beat the Flyers 38 years ago, people felt the need to get out to share their joy, to celebrate with others their faith in their hockey heroes. That’s one kind of celebration (and a pretty good one!), but we Christians have something more to share. We are called to share in the joy of the Resurrection of Christ, which calls us out of our safe places to share the Good News with the wider world.

And how do we share that joy? How are we to be the light of the world? We could, of course, buy an amplifier and shout over the crowds on Whyte Avenue. Some have done that, but it seems to me to be self-defeating, shedding more heat than light. Instead, we should share our joy and light by being joy and light for others. That joy and light takes different forms for different people at different times. For the hungry, it is food. For those who mourn, it is comfort. For the lost, it is a helping hand, a guiding presence. For the lonely, it is a friendly presence. All of these and others are ways to shed God’s light into a world which so often seems plunged into darkness.

So, I believe the question for each of us today is this:

How am I light for other people, and
        How do I share Resurrection joy with them?

Friends, let us come out of our safe places.

Let us come out and spread Christ-light wherever we go.

Let us come out and be the Church,
doing God’s holy work among God’s people.

May it be so.