Facing Aggressive Prostate Cancer: A Personal Journey

By Tony Ebejer

Life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it. For me, it came in the form of a prostate cancer diagnosis—aggressive and immediate. When the words “aggressive cancer” left my doctor’s lips, my world turned upside down. My 57 years of life seemed to flash before me in a matter of seconds, not in vivid moments, but as a fleeting montage of time, I felt I had only just begun to appreciate. My immediate thoughts were: I want more time.

The journey began with a PSA test that jumped from 3 to 4 in a year, a warning signal that demanded further investigation. When I met with Professor Jeromy Grummet, my symptoms of reduced pressure while urinating and the elevated PSA level culminated in a biopsy that confirmed the worst: I was among the 20% of men whose prostate issues turned out to be cancerous. That moment of confirmation unraveled me.?

How does one comprehend such news? For me, the initial hours and days were filled with fear, questions, and tears. Why me? How long do I have left? I grappled with my mortality, but I also leaned heavily on my wife, my rock through it all. Her logical, positive approach kept me grounded, even as my mind veered into darker places.

The Waiting Game

The next step was a full-body scan at Epworth Malvern to determine if the cancer had spread. This period brought four days of relentless mental warfare. The phrase “aggressive cancer” echoed in my mind, dragging me into an avalanche of negative thoughts. I pictured the worst, cancer spreading uncontrollably and wrestled with my family history. My father and sister both passed at 60 and here I was, just 57.

When the call finally came, the news brought cautious relief: the cancer appeared confined to the prostate. My tears flowed freely—a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. But the journey was far from over. Surgery was scheduled within days to remove both the prostate and surrounding lymph nodes as a precautionary measure against the cancer’s aggressive nature.

Surgery and Recovery

On operation day, I arrived at Cabrini Hospital, anxious but determined. Waking up post-surgery marked the start of another waiting game: the biopsy results. Had the cancer been fully contained? Had it penetrated the prostate wall? The answers would define the next chapter of my life.

Three days out of the hospital, I missed the first call from Professor Grummet. His voicemail, calm but ambiguous, sent my mind racing. By the time we connected, my nerves were frayed. But when he told me the results, relief washed over me, the cancer had not breached the prostate wall, and none of the eight lymph nodes showed any signs of cancer. We are on top of it, and a blood test in early Jan will confirm if any further treatment is required. Even if so, we are on top of it rather than chasing it.?

Reflections on Life

Hearing those words felt like a second or perhaps third chance at life. My second chance had been surviving peritonitis as an 18-month-old, a battle I have no memory of, but which I'm sure shaped my resilience. This new lease on life is a gift of modern medicine, and I am determined to use it wisely.

The recovery process has not been without its challenges. Pain management and that's before a cough or sneeze, 3 weeks coping with a catheter, awkward, to say the least. And the now learning to control my pelvic floor, the unpleasant struggle of incontinence. However, these hurdles pale in comparison to the gratitude I feel for the opportunity to continue living, loving, and contributing to the world around me.

A New Purpose

Throughout this journey, I’ve realised how fortunate I am to have a strong support network of family, friends, and resources. Not everyone is so lucky. My research has shown that many people face similar battles in isolation without the financial, emotional, or logistical support I’ve relied on. This realisation has sparked a desire to be there for those in “hurt and panic,” as I was.

Whether through volunteering, advocacy, or simply lending an empathetic ear, I want to help others navigate the emotional and practical challenges of a cancer diagnosis. Life is fragile, but it is also a profound opportunity to connect, support, and grow.?

Moving Forward

As I write this, I am filled with hope. The fear and uncertainty that once consumed me have been replaced by determination and gratitude. Life is, as they say, a game to play, a challenge to meet, and an opportunity to CAPTURE. I intend to do just that with renewed purpose and a commitment to helping others along the way.

"We pass through this world but once,"