Initial testing

On July 3^rd, 2019 my doctor called the day after my annual exam and said my PSA was at 3.9, a spike since two years prior. My DRE was negative. I was given choices, 1. It could be an infection and I could go on antibiotics for a month, then retest, or  because I’m active (I was currently swimming with a college swim team this summer 3 days a week, for 2 hours at a time) the antibiotic could weaken my tendons, 2. my father had passed away from Prostate cancer 5 years before after a 14 year battle, it was decided that I see a urologist. I was told to schedule an appointment with the Urologist and tell them I need to see someone soon because of “an elevated PSA”. So July 11^th I met my Urologist. Once again I was given some options, wait, or we could schedule a biopsy. If you go with local numbing you can get it on schedule quicker, if you want to be put under, that will take longer to schedule. I chose the more aggressive choice, lets go local. So on July 24^th, I found myself in a loose fitting sheet with no back, laying on my left side, while two nurses kept me laughing and one doctor shot what felt like rubber bands into my rectum… 13 times. During the process we talked about Dave Matthews, the doctor had just attended his first one, of course I had to tell him in the early 90’s while living in Richmond I used to go see him most Tuesday nights at Trak’s in Charlottesville, then see him again Wednesday nights in the flood zone. The summer of 93 I may have seen him 10 or twelve times over a two month period, and I hadn’t seen him live since New Years in Hampton in ’96. So after 10 to 15 minutes of mild grade school rubber band torture the waiting game began. And this is the when the anxiety started. My older brother said, just stay busy so you do not think about. Easy for him to say, for anyone who knows me my mind is always racing and going to strange and different places. For a good alright run of the mill time, sit in a room with me during a brainstorming session.