In which my misadventures with prostate cancer lead to medical tourism in Germany…

A couple years after my initial diagnosis and adoption of a “watchful waiting” approach, my PSA test scores started to creep up, and I started looking for treatments that didn’t involve willful destruction of my basic plumbing. There were all sorts of semi-experimental procedures that attempted to do the job, like high-intensity focused ultrasound (HIFU) and cryotherapy where they stick needles in and freeze the tumor, but at least at the time none were much better than a good old-fashioned prostatectomy. I was really hoping for the male equivalent of a lumpectomy.

Somewhere along the way I stumbled on hyperthermia, which involves jacking up the temperature of the rotty bits just enough to kill the cancer cells whilst leaving the healthy stuff intact. It seemed plausible, so next thing you know I was on a plane to Germany with my wife. Our destination was Klinik Marinus am Stein, there to submit myself to the tender ministrations of Dr. Axel Weber. 

The big idea was – essentially – to microwave my prostate, which is an organ roughly the size of a walnut, without cooking anything else. So the way Dr. Weber did this was with a machine of his own invention. The process involved placing a balloon inside my bladder that anchored a microwave emitter a fixed distance downstream, as it were, hopefully in the middle of said walnut. 

Now, there’s really only one way into a person’s bladder that doesn’t involve a sharp knife, which is through the urethra. Which in guys, exits the body through – you knew this was coming – the penis. So there I was, feet in the stirrups, with Dr. Weber leaning over me with a well-lubed microwave emitter roughly the size of a mechanical pencil, saying in a heavy German accent, “Look into my eyes!” while my wife looked on. It is a moment burned into my memory. 

Yeah. Good times. 

As a palate cleanser, I went off and trekked in the Himalaya for three weeks, which was a truly amazing experience. And also speaks to the degree to which the procedure was not destructive. But was it effective? Hard to say. My numbers went back down and stayed down for half-a-dozen years, so I thought it was a good spend at ~$8K all up (none covered by insurance, of course, because America). 

But nothing lasts forever, and about the time the COVID-19 pandemic got rolling, my PSA scores reached the inflection point of the “hockey stick” curve and threatened to go vertical. Not a good sign.

More to come in part 3!