Urology Associates of Rochester
Eons ago, perhaps 20 years or more, I was referred to Urology Associates of Rochester by a doctor I called “the pill-pusher.”
This was because my PSA was highish; not dangerously high (“high”), just highish.
PSA is the percentage of Prostate-Specific-Antigen (“PSA”) in one’s blood, an indicator of possible prostate cancer.
It has to be monitored at my age — at that time I was in my late 40s; now I’m 67.
I won’t name any names.
Just that I also called this doctor “the halitosis-king.”
He had bad breath.
He was also kind of a dud; probably my worst doctor over the years.
I didn’t look forward to seeing him.
He also is the one that told my wife I’d be a vegetable after my stroke.
It made me mad.
My reaction was probably pure gibberish, but I declared I would prove him wrong.
And I guess I have, pretty much.
“Pill-pusher” because he was always prescribing expensive medications to deal with slight medical ills.
It was noticed my blood-pressure was also highish; again not dangerously high, just borderline.
So the “pill-pusher” prescribed a hyper-expensive calcium-blocker, that later had a dangerous side-effect.
About five years ago I began having so-called “dizzy-spells.”
They’re why I retired from the Mighty Mezz.
It felt like my heart had stopped, allowing blood to drain from my head.
Around-and-around we went. Various tests.
Finally a neurologist said these episodes might be a side-effect of my calcium-blocker blood-pressure medication.
So I stopped taking it.
No dizzy-spells since — although I’d rather be retired.
That neurologist also referred me to Lake Country Physical Therapy in Canandaigua, where it was suggested the way to control blood-pressure was to get back in shape.
I could agree with that.
At 225 pounds I was flaccid and out-of-shape.
Obese.
I used to run footraces in my 40s.
130-140 pounds; I did okay.
My fastest 10K footrace was 38:40, not extraordinarily fast, but not bog-slow.
That’s about 6:14 per mile.
Middling.
I’m used to being active.
But my stroke put a damper on it.
You also fall quickly behind with no exercise.
“What that doctor should have prescribed was a gym!” my wife said.
Of course a gym isn’t a kickback from a pharmaceutical company.
Or so it seemed.
225 pounds is almost 40 pounds ago, and now I work out at the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym.
187 pounds is not 140 pounds. What I’d rather be is 140, but 187 is not 225.
I also can still run; what I say is my 67-year-old knees still let me.
But I’m bog-slow. I footrace occasionally (no more than 5K), but I’m down to over 12 minutes per mile.
I’ve been visiting Urology Associates of Rochester ever since that first referral; about twice a year.
My PSA has been up-and-down.
Two prostate biopsies have been performed, both with no indications of cancer.
My latest PSA was way down.
What I always say is “I look terrible, but I’m not the one with cancer.”
My wife has cancer, but supposedly it’s not a death-sentence.
It’s treatable.
Actually, she has two cancers: -a) Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and -b) metastatic breast-cancer.
The Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma appeared about three years ago as a hard tumor in her abdomen.
That was poofed with chemotherapy.
The metastatic breast-cancer did not have a primary site; it never appeared in her breasts.
It was first noticed in her bones, where breast-cancer metastasizes.
We knocked that back with Femara®, the trade-name for Letrozole.
Femara is an estrogen inhibitor. Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive.
Her breast-cancer just about disappeared.
Nevertheless, tumors of some sort were growing in her abdomen, and restricting urine-flow through her ureter-tubes, kidney to bladder. We were also doing breast-cancer chemo, which stopped the Femara.
We were referred to a urologist at Strong Hospital, but the poor guy was harried. He was backed up with 89 bazilyun patients.
His suggestion was we not do anything until we saw kidney-damage.
To us, this was silly. The idea was to prevent kidney-damage.
So now what?
“Well, there’s always Urology Associates of Rochester,” I said. “They’ve always done well by me, and seem to have their heads screwed on pretty straight.”
“But are they up-the-wall?” my wife asked.
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” I said.
So off we went yesterday (Tuesday, March 29, 2011) to Urology Associates of Rochester.
An appointment with Melanie Butler, MD; no referral needed.
“Is this a second opinion?” Melanie asked; she had called the day before.
“Well, not exactly,” my wife said; “but I won’t be going back to that Strong urologist again.”
“This is new,” she said to me. “They’re actually doing research in advance. At that surgeon two weeks ago (a previous appointment), outside our exam-room, he paged my oncologist. Nothing had been done prior to our showing up.”
Yada-yada-yada-yada for at least 45 minutes.
For me the signature of their attitude came when I said “run all that by me again.”
Melanie had to repeat to me everything she had just said to my wife.
And she didn’t mind a bit.
Melanie suggested we stick with Strong, but suggested other urologists. (Urology Associates of Rochester is Rochester General.)
Urology Associates of Rochester couldn’t work easily with Strong; previous cancer-treatment had been at Wilmot Cancer Center, part of Strong Hospital (“will-MOTT;” as in “Mott’s Applesauce”).
“What a shame,” my wife said. “She’s the best doctor I’ve seen so far.”
—Two phenomenal-avoidances driving home; I’m the taxi-driver.
-1) We’re driving east on Brighton-Henrietta Townline Road, and a black ‘80s El Camino turns into a driveway right in front of me, unsignaled of course.
The El Camino then arrowed back toward the road.
I came to a complete stop.
“You coulda kept goin’,” my brother would bellow. “That guy was no threat to you.”
“Retired bus-driver,” I’d say. “If someone pulls a questionable move in front of you, you STOP.
You don’t just assume he’s no threat.
You also try not to scare anyone. No telling what a scared driver could do. He might involve you in an accident.”
-2) We’re now driving east on Jefferson Road between Winton Road and Clover St. (another two-lane road).
The two lanes of Jefferson become four and then six at Clover St.
I signal to change lanes, and suddenly a giant white Chevy Express van lunges in front of me. I guess he presumed I was signaled to turn right into a driveway.
I had to execute a gigantic swerve to miss him.
“Did you see that?” my wife shouted. “He pulled right out in front of us!”
“Too bad I couldn’t give him a hearty hello,” I said.
Proof yet again ya don’t just assume a turn-signal means ya can make a move.
I had that happen driving bus. Almost got T-boned — by a driver that had his signal on by mistake.
“Ya can tell I drove bus,” I said. “Our rule was ‘EXPECT ANYTHING!’”
—Today’s mail (Wednesday, March 30, 2011) had a flyer from Great Northeast Mulch and Topsoil.
“Means I gotta get my mulch,” my wife said.
“That presumes you can,” I remarked. Over the past couple weeks I’ve witnessed great pain and debilitating fatigue.
“I’ll do that,” my wife said. “I’m very determined.”
This is the person I’ve been living with over 43 years, the Iron Lady.
It’s probably what got me where I am despite a stroke; “That vegetable-stuff is pure baloney — I ain’t listenin’ to that!
And nobody tells me I can’t ride motorcycle.”
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over five years ago. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years.
• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 15 miles away.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about three-four hours per visit.
• “10K” is 10 kilometers, 6.2 miles. (5K is five kilometers, 3.1 miles.)
• “Strong Hospital” is a large hospital on the south side of Rochester, NY; one of two large hospitals. “Rochester General” is the other. Wilmot Cancer Center is part of Strong.
• Brighton and Henrietta are two suburbs southeast of Rochester. “Brighton-Henrietta Townline Road” is on their border. “Jefferson Road” is even farther south, a main east-west highway through Henrietta. It crosses both Winton Road and Clover St., main north-south highways out of Rochester.
• “My brother” is my macho brother-in-Boston, who loudly badmouths everything I do or say. A Rush Limbaugh wannabee.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS), a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and its environs. My stroke ended that.
This was because my PSA was highish; not dangerously high (“high”), just highish.
PSA is the percentage of Prostate-Specific-Antigen (“PSA”) in one’s blood, an indicator of possible prostate cancer.
It has to be monitored at my age — at that time I was in my late 40s; now I’m 67.
I won’t name any names.
Just that I also called this doctor “the halitosis-king.”
He had bad breath.
He was also kind of a dud; probably my worst doctor over the years.
I didn’t look forward to seeing him.
He also is the one that told my wife I’d be a vegetable after my stroke.
It made me mad.
My reaction was probably pure gibberish, but I declared I would prove him wrong.
And I guess I have, pretty much.
“Pill-pusher” because he was always prescribing expensive medications to deal with slight medical ills.
It was noticed my blood-pressure was also highish; again not dangerously high, just borderline.
So the “pill-pusher” prescribed a hyper-expensive calcium-blocker, that later had a dangerous side-effect.
About five years ago I began having so-called “dizzy-spells.”
They’re why I retired from the Mighty Mezz.
It felt like my heart had stopped, allowing blood to drain from my head.
Around-and-around we went. Various tests.
Finally a neurologist said these episodes might be a side-effect of my calcium-blocker blood-pressure medication.
So I stopped taking it.
No dizzy-spells since — although I’d rather be retired.
That neurologist also referred me to Lake Country Physical Therapy in Canandaigua, where it was suggested the way to control blood-pressure was to get back in shape.
I could agree with that.
At 225 pounds I was flaccid and out-of-shape.
Obese.
I used to run footraces in my 40s.
130-140 pounds; I did okay.
My fastest 10K footrace was 38:40, not extraordinarily fast, but not bog-slow.
That’s about 6:14 per mile.
Middling.
I’m used to being active.
But my stroke put a damper on it.
You also fall quickly behind with no exercise.
“What that doctor should have prescribed was a gym!” my wife said.
Of course a gym isn’t a kickback from a pharmaceutical company.
Or so it seemed.
225 pounds is almost 40 pounds ago, and now I work out at the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym.
187 pounds is not 140 pounds. What I’d rather be is 140, but 187 is not 225.
I also can still run; what I say is my 67-year-old knees still let me.
But I’m bog-slow. I footrace occasionally (no more than 5K), but I’m down to over 12 minutes per mile.
I’ve been visiting Urology Associates of Rochester ever since that first referral; about twice a year.
My PSA has been up-and-down.
Two prostate biopsies have been performed, both with no indications of cancer.
My latest PSA was way down.
What I always say is “I look terrible, but I’m not the one with cancer.”
My wife has cancer, but supposedly it’s not a death-sentence.
It’s treatable.
Actually, she has two cancers: -a) Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and -b) metastatic breast-cancer.
The Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma appeared about three years ago as a hard tumor in her abdomen.
That was poofed with chemotherapy.
The metastatic breast-cancer did not have a primary site; it never appeared in her breasts.
It was first noticed in her bones, where breast-cancer metastasizes.
We knocked that back with Femara®, the trade-name for Letrozole.
Femara is an estrogen inhibitor. Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive.
Her breast-cancer just about disappeared.
Nevertheless, tumors of some sort were growing in her abdomen, and restricting urine-flow through her ureter-tubes, kidney to bladder. We were also doing breast-cancer chemo, which stopped the Femara.
We were referred to a urologist at Strong Hospital, but the poor guy was harried. He was backed up with 89 bazilyun patients.
His suggestion was we not do anything until we saw kidney-damage.
To us, this was silly. The idea was to prevent kidney-damage.
So now what?
“Well, there’s always Urology Associates of Rochester,” I said. “They’ve always done well by me, and seem to have their heads screwed on pretty straight.”
“But are they up-the-wall?” my wife asked.
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” I said.
So off we went yesterday (Tuesday, March 29, 2011) to Urology Associates of Rochester.
An appointment with Melanie Butler, MD; no referral needed.
“Is this a second opinion?” Melanie asked; she had called the day before.
“Well, not exactly,” my wife said; “but I won’t be going back to that Strong urologist again.”
“This is new,” she said to me. “They’re actually doing research in advance. At that surgeon two weeks ago (a previous appointment), outside our exam-room, he paged my oncologist. Nothing had been done prior to our showing up.”
Yada-yada-yada-yada for at least 45 minutes.
For me the signature of their attitude came when I said “run all that by me again.”
Melanie had to repeat to me everything she had just said to my wife.
And she didn’t mind a bit.
Melanie suggested we stick with Strong, but suggested other urologists. (Urology Associates of Rochester is Rochester General.)
Urology Associates of Rochester couldn’t work easily with Strong; previous cancer-treatment had been at Wilmot Cancer Center, part of Strong Hospital (“will-MOTT;” as in “Mott’s Applesauce”).
“What a shame,” my wife said. “She’s the best doctor I’ve seen so far.”
—Two phenomenal-avoidances driving home; I’m the taxi-driver.
-1) We’re driving east on Brighton-Henrietta Townline Road, and a black ‘80s El Camino turns into a driveway right in front of me, unsignaled of course.
The El Camino then arrowed back toward the road.
I came to a complete stop.
“You coulda kept goin’,” my brother would bellow. “That guy was no threat to you.”
“Retired bus-driver,” I’d say. “If someone pulls a questionable move in front of you, you STOP.
You don’t just assume he’s no threat.
You also try not to scare anyone. No telling what a scared driver could do. He might involve you in an accident.”
-2) We’re now driving east on Jefferson Road between Winton Road and Clover St. (another two-lane road).
The two lanes of Jefferson become four and then six at Clover St.
I signal to change lanes, and suddenly a giant white Chevy Express van lunges in front of me. I guess he presumed I was signaled to turn right into a driveway.
I had to execute a gigantic swerve to miss him.
“Did you see that?” my wife shouted. “He pulled right out in front of us!”
“Too bad I couldn’t give him a hearty hello,” I said.
Proof yet again ya don’t just assume a turn-signal means ya can make a move.
I had that happen driving bus. Almost got T-boned — by a driver that had his signal on by mistake.
“Ya can tell I drove bus,” I said. “Our rule was ‘EXPECT ANYTHING!’”
—Today’s mail (Wednesday, March 30, 2011) had a flyer from Great Northeast Mulch and Topsoil.
“Means I gotta get my mulch,” my wife said.
“That presumes you can,” I remarked. Over the past couple weeks I’ve witnessed great pain and debilitating fatigue.
“I’ll do that,” my wife said. “I’m very determined.”
This is the person I’ve been living with over 43 years, the Iron Lady.
It’s probably what got me where I am despite a stroke; “That vegetable-stuff is pure baloney — I ain’t listenin’ to that!
And nobody tells me I can’t ride motorcycle.”
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over five years ago. Best job I ever had — I worked there almost 10 years.
• “Canandaigua” (“cannan-DAY-gwuh”) is a small city nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” —It’s about 15 miles away.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about three-four hours per visit.
• “10K” is 10 kilometers, 6.2 miles. (5K is five kilometers, 3.1 miles.)
• “Strong Hospital” is a large hospital on the south side of Rochester, NY; one of two large hospitals. “Rochester General” is the other. Wilmot Cancer Center is part of Strong.
• Brighton and Henrietta are two suburbs southeast of Rochester. “Brighton-Henrietta Townline Road” is on their border. “Jefferson Road” is even farther south, a main east-west highway through Henrietta. It crosses both Winton Road and Clover St., main north-south highways out of Rochester.
• “My brother” is my macho brother-in-Boston, who loudly badmouths everything I do or say. A Rush Limbaugh wannabee.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS), a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and its environs. My stroke ended that.
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