Peter Weisz, 60, West Palm Beach, FL Date of Surgery: October 9, 2008
VIP Friends Online
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
Read Other Survivors' Personal Stories CLICK HERE |
GETTING THE WORD
In July of 2008, as our family prepared to move from Indiana to Florida, we all underwent our farewell
medical check-ups. As part of this process, my routine blood work report revealed a problem. My PSA, or
Prostate Specific Antigen, something I'd been monitoring regularly since turning 50, was elevated. A lot.
My PSA went over 5.0 in 2005. At that time I underwent a biopsy of my prostate and it came back
negative. But I was advised to keep an eye on things. This time it was over 7.0. Not only was this a high
number, it also represented a rapid rate of increase.
Another biopsy was scheduled for August 5. On August 12, the day before we were scheduled to drive
our caravan from Carmel, Indiana to our new home in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida — as we sat amid the
packing tape and bubble wrap — my urologist, phoned with the news. I had prostate cancer. Gulp!
CAUGHT BY MR. IN-BETWEEN
So there we were. Between homes, between jobs, between health insurance plans, headed feet first
into a community where we knew absolutely no one. I tried to look at the bright side: “It will be easier to
keep this confidential living in a place where no one knows us,” I told my wife. Our bright hopes and
dreams of our family's sunny Florida future had suddenly been placed under a cloud of uncertainty and
fear. And so, after bidding a bittersweet farewell to a lifetime of friends, colleagues, and a mountain of
memories, we made our way south...and so did the cloud.
Naturally, we got busy. We consulted with everyone from the Mayo to the Cleveland Clinic. I spoke first
hand to over half a dozen men who had undergone prostatectomies and submerged myself in a sea of
online medical studies. My wife is a family physician and her loving counsel, analysis and explanations of
the medical terminology was a blessing. And then... there was another, even greater godsend.
DOCTOR DISNEY?
As our due diligence ran its course, it was becoming increasingly clear that the most attractive option
for someone in my position was radical prostatectomy. Complete surgical removal of the cancerous
prostate gland. There are two methods of doing this: Open and robotic. The first is the traditional
method where a large incision is made in the abdomen. The second, less invasive method, involves a
series of smaller incisions and the use of special tools and cameras to excise the organ. Laparoscopic
was the better choice in terms of OR time, recovery time, and other benefits.
There are two types of laparoscopic surgery: conventional and robotic. The robotic method has met with
an amazing success rate. This high tech method uses tools manipulated by the surgeon outside the
patient and provides a better field of vision and much higher precision. This is important in order to
perform a successful “nerve-sparing” prostatectomy that will minimize postoperative negatives like
incontinence and erectile dysfunction. I soon concluded that I needed to undergo a robotic assisted
laparoscopic, radical prostatectomy.
Imagine my utter delight when I learned that the global center of the universe for this type of procedure
was located a mere three hour drive from our new home in a place called Celebration, Florida! That’s
right. Celebration is the planned community built near Orlando by Disney World. The Global Robotics
Institute, headed by its founder, Dr. Vipul Patel, is located in the Florida Hospital, within the shadow of
Cinderella's Castle and Magic Mountain.
Two days after arriving in West Palm Beach, I drove the Florida Turnpike north past Kissimmee for my
first appointment. I didn't know quite what to expect. A hospital in Disney World?! Would I be examined
by Dr. Seuss and Dr. Doolittle? Actually, the hospital was state-of-the-art and had that freshly painted
Disney sheen. Valet parking, no less.
I was examined by Dr. Patel who has performed over 3500 of these procedures; more than any doctor on
earth. He typically performs five per day, four days per week. He is a delightful man that exudes
competence and confidence. It was determined that I was an ideal candidate for surgery, although I was
advised to lose twenty pounds beforehand (I almost made it!) and I was given the first available date:
October 9, Yom Kippur the Jewish Day of Atonement and the holiest day of the year. It is a day of fasting
when religious Jews believe a person’s fate is sealed for the coming year. Recognizing that Judaism
places a person’s health above religious observance, I took the date.
DAY OF ATTAINMENT
The thing about prostate cancer is not the prostate itself. It's not that important of an organ. Let’s face it,
a curtailed sex life is not going to kill you. It’s the fact that the cancer can spread, via the lymphatic
system to other, more vital organs. That's why the big question is localization. Is the cancer localized and
confined to areas in the interior of the gland, or has it manifested on the margins and therefore possibly
migrated to the lymph nodes? A biopsy will give you clues, but not answers. Imagine sticking drinking
straws into a watermelon, extracting them, and then examining what's been pulled out by the straws in
order to learn if there is any...uh, “Melon-noma.” It's pretty much hit and miss. The only definitive method
is to take the thing out and examine the whole melon. That’s what we were about to do.
I was thinking about melons and Palins and Patel as my wife and I drove back to Celebration on Oct. 8.
We checked into a nearby hotel, the Mona Lisa, where I did all the necessary pre-surgical stuff. I thought
the hotel’s name apropos given I was to be operated on using something called the DaVinci Robot. The
plan was that after surgery on the next day, I would spend one night in the hospital and then return to
the hotel after being discharged. I would stay in the hotel recuperating until my follow-up visit four days
later. At that time I would learn the true condition of my prostate and how my fate was to be sealed on
this Yom Kippur.
At the hospital the next morning, we were greeted by a well-dressed Surgical Concierge who wished us
a pleasant Yom Kippur and gave us a sunny orientation as to what lay ahead. Our questions were
answered and I was wheeled off into the OR where classical music lent a baroque flavor to the
proceedings. The last thing I recall was giving my web URL to the anesthesiologist. I understand he
actually went online during my surgery and checked it out. Cool!
Awakening in the recovery area a few hours later, I felt pretty good considering that I had a catheter (my
late mother used to call it “The Caterer”) in my bladder and a subcutaneous pain pump attached to my
side. It felt like I had done about 3000 sit-ups the day before. A few hours later I was helped to my feet
and walked the hallway along with a few of the other prostate-less patients. I was amazed that I appeared
to be feeling fine...even after the drugs wore off. My wife spent the night in my room and I was released
at noon the next day. I was driven to the hotel and given instructions for the catheter and pain pump. No
problem.
My major complaint over the next few days, as I recovered amid the swell confines of the Mona Lisa, was
constipation. I felt extremely bloated and spent my sleepless nights praying for flatulence. The Shofar
sounded after five days and that truly was a blessing.
THE VERDICT
On Tuesday, October 14, my 61st birthday, I was scheduled to return to the hospital for a Cystogram and
then to Dr. Patel's office for a follow-up visit where, if the Cysto-gram X-ray showed no leakage, the
catheter would be removed. Everything checked out and I was disconnected from all tubes and lines.
Free at last!
Next came the moment of truth: the results of the pathology report of my excised prostate. It showed
that the organ was roughly 4 times its normal size and weight, but I could not understand the rest of the
report...or perhaps I was just a bit nervous. I handed the report to my wife...who read it over and then
displayed the sweetest Mona Lisa smile in the world. That smile told me all I needed to know. I was going
to be OK. Yes. The cancer was entirely localized. No evidence of it at the margins. No chance that it had
spread elsewhere. Yes. I would need to continually monitor my PSA, but my chances of contracting
another type of cancer was less than 1% more than the general population. I was cancer free.
How could I imagine a greater birthday gift!? I'm now back at our home in Palm Beach Gardens as life
returns to normal. I am amazed and pleased to report that incontinence of neither bladder nor bowel has
been a problem. Erectile function, while not at 100%, is returning daily and I expect to be fine in that area
as well.
SUMMATION
Without question, our family has a great deal to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Of all our many
blessings, I am most deeply grateful to Dr. Patel whose pioneering work has resulted in the medical
miracle that has enhanced the duration as well as the quality of my life. May God bless and keep you.
In July of 2008, as our family prepared to move from Indiana to Florida, we all underwent our farewell
medical check-ups. As part of this process, my routine blood work report revealed a problem. My PSA, or
Prostate Specific Antigen, something I'd been monitoring regularly since turning 50, was elevated. A lot.
My PSA went over 5.0 in 2005. At that time I underwent a biopsy of my prostate and it came back
negative. But I was advised to keep an eye on things. This time it was over 7.0. Not only was this a high
number, it also represented a rapid rate of increase.
Another biopsy was scheduled for August 5. On August 12, the day before we were scheduled to drive
our caravan from Carmel, Indiana to our new home in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida — as we sat amid the
packing tape and bubble wrap — my urologist, phoned with the news. I had prostate cancer. Gulp!
CAUGHT BY MR. IN-BETWEEN
So there we were. Between homes, between jobs, between health insurance plans, headed feet first
into a community where we knew absolutely no one. I tried to look at the bright side: “It will be easier to
keep this confidential living in a place where no one knows us,” I told my wife. Our bright hopes and
dreams of our family's sunny Florida future had suddenly been placed under a cloud of uncertainty and
fear. And so, after bidding a bittersweet farewell to a lifetime of friends, colleagues, and a mountain of
memories, we made our way south...and so did the cloud.
Naturally, we got busy. We consulted with everyone from the Mayo to the Cleveland Clinic. I spoke first
hand to over half a dozen men who had undergone prostatectomies and submerged myself in a sea of
online medical studies. My wife is a family physician and her loving counsel, analysis and explanations of
the medical terminology was a blessing. And then... there was another, even greater godsend.
DOCTOR DISNEY?
As our due diligence ran its course, it was becoming increasingly clear that the most attractive option
for someone in my position was radical prostatectomy. Complete surgical removal of the cancerous
prostate gland. There are two methods of doing this: Open and robotic. The first is the traditional
method where a large incision is made in the abdomen. The second, less invasive method, involves a
series of smaller incisions and the use of special tools and cameras to excise the organ. Laparoscopic
was the better choice in terms of OR time, recovery time, and other benefits.
There are two types of laparoscopic surgery: conventional and robotic. The robotic method has met with
an amazing success rate. This high tech method uses tools manipulated by the surgeon outside the
patient and provides a better field of vision and much higher precision. This is important in order to
perform a successful “nerve-sparing” prostatectomy that will minimize postoperative negatives like
incontinence and erectile dysfunction. I soon concluded that I needed to undergo a robotic assisted
laparoscopic, radical prostatectomy.
Imagine my utter delight when I learned that the global center of the universe for this type of procedure
was located a mere three hour drive from our new home in a place called Celebration, Florida! That’s
right. Celebration is the planned community built near Orlando by Disney World. The Global Robotics
Institute, headed by its founder, Dr. Vipul Patel, is located in the Florida Hospital, within the shadow of
Cinderella's Castle and Magic Mountain.
Two days after arriving in West Palm Beach, I drove the Florida Turnpike north past Kissimmee for my
first appointment. I didn't know quite what to expect. A hospital in Disney World?! Would I be examined
by Dr. Seuss and Dr. Doolittle? Actually, the hospital was state-of-the-art and had that freshly painted
Disney sheen. Valet parking, no less.
I was examined by Dr. Patel who has performed over 3500 of these procedures; more than any doctor on
earth. He typically performs five per day, four days per week. He is a delightful man that exudes
competence and confidence. It was determined that I was an ideal candidate for surgery, although I was
advised to lose twenty pounds beforehand (I almost made it!) and I was given the first available date:
October 9, Yom Kippur the Jewish Day of Atonement and the holiest day of the year. It is a day of fasting
when religious Jews believe a person’s fate is sealed for the coming year. Recognizing that Judaism
places a person’s health above religious observance, I took the date.
DAY OF ATTAINMENT
The thing about prostate cancer is not the prostate itself. It's not that important of an organ. Let’s face it,
a curtailed sex life is not going to kill you. It’s the fact that the cancer can spread, via the lymphatic
system to other, more vital organs. That's why the big question is localization. Is the cancer localized and
confined to areas in the interior of the gland, or has it manifested on the margins and therefore possibly
migrated to the lymph nodes? A biopsy will give you clues, but not answers. Imagine sticking drinking
straws into a watermelon, extracting them, and then examining what's been pulled out by the straws in
order to learn if there is any...uh, “Melon-noma.” It's pretty much hit and miss. The only definitive method
is to take the thing out and examine the whole melon. That’s what we were about to do.
I was thinking about melons and Palins and Patel as my wife and I drove back to Celebration on Oct. 8.
We checked into a nearby hotel, the Mona Lisa, where I did all the necessary pre-surgical stuff. I thought
the hotel’s name apropos given I was to be operated on using something called the DaVinci Robot. The
plan was that after surgery on the next day, I would spend one night in the hospital and then return to
the hotel after being discharged. I would stay in the hotel recuperating until my follow-up visit four days
later. At that time I would learn the true condition of my prostate and how my fate was to be sealed on
this Yom Kippur.
At the hospital the next morning, we were greeted by a well-dressed Surgical Concierge who wished us
a pleasant Yom Kippur and gave us a sunny orientation as to what lay ahead. Our questions were
answered and I was wheeled off into the OR where classical music lent a baroque flavor to the
proceedings. The last thing I recall was giving my web URL to the anesthesiologist. I understand he
actually went online during my surgery and checked it out. Cool!
Awakening in the recovery area a few hours later, I felt pretty good considering that I had a catheter (my
late mother used to call it “The Caterer”) in my bladder and a subcutaneous pain pump attached to my
side. It felt like I had done about 3000 sit-ups the day before. A few hours later I was helped to my feet
and walked the hallway along with a few of the other prostate-less patients. I was amazed that I appeared
to be feeling fine...even after the drugs wore off. My wife spent the night in my room and I was released
at noon the next day. I was driven to the hotel and given instructions for the catheter and pain pump. No
problem.
My major complaint over the next few days, as I recovered amid the swell confines of the Mona Lisa, was
constipation. I felt extremely bloated and spent my sleepless nights praying for flatulence. The Shofar
sounded after five days and that truly was a blessing.
THE VERDICT
On Tuesday, October 14, my 61st birthday, I was scheduled to return to the hospital for a Cystogram and
then to Dr. Patel's office for a follow-up visit where, if the Cysto-gram X-ray showed no leakage, the
catheter would be removed. Everything checked out and I was disconnected from all tubes and lines.
Free at last!
Next came the moment of truth: the results of the pathology report of my excised prostate. It showed
that the organ was roughly 4 times its normal size and weight, but I could not understand the rest of the
report...or perhaps I was just a bit nervous. I handed the report to my wife...who read it over and then
displayed the sweetest Mona Lisa smile in the world. That smile told me all I needed to know. I was going
to be OK. Yes. The cancer was entirely localized. No evidence of it at the margins. No chance that it had
spread elsewhere. Yes. I would need to continually monitor my PSA, but my chances of contracting
another type of cancer was less than 1% more than the general population. I was cancer free.
How could I imagine a greater birthday gift!? I'm now back at our home in Palm Beach Gardens as life
returns to normal. I am amazed and pleased to report that incontinence of neither bladder nor bowel has
been a problem. Erectile function, while not at 100%, is returning daily and I expect to be fine in that area
as well.
SUMMATION
Without question, our family has a great deal to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Of all our many
blessings, I am most deeply grateful to Dr. Patel whose pioneering work has resulted in the medical
miracle that has enhanced the duration as well as the quality of my life. May God bless and keep you.
| PHOTO Coming Soon! |
 |
 |