I had a “fuck my life” moment today.
My radiation mapping appointment—January 15, 2026–is now a month later than expected. I was told radiation therapy might not start until 6–8 weeks after that. I am not thrilled.
In the past, news like this would’ve sent me into what I called “depression,” mostly because I didn’t have a better word for it. But thanks to the unexpected clarity I’ve been having since starting androgen deprivation therapy, I can actually name what I’m feeling now.
Annoyance tops the list. I’ve already been through catheter hell, surgery, scans, injections, and more appointments than I care to count. Add impatience, a dash of anxiety, and a pinch of “whatever,” and that’s today’s entrée: room-temperature clam chowder straight from the can.
Still, I’ve got a handle on it. I sent the manager in to gently tell my inner Karen to calm the fuck down, then asked questions and got reassuring answers.
Apparently, the long gap between the Eligard shot and radiation isn’t a mistake or a scheduling screw-up—it’s how the treatment is designed. ADT doesn’t just support radiation; it weakens the cancer for months in advance.
Prostate cancer loves testosterone. Gleason 9 tumors are especially dependent on it. Without testosterone, cancer can’t grow normally. ADT cuts off the supply. When testosterone drops, cancer cells slow down, shrink, or stall.
So even though it feels like I’m just sitting here waiting, the Eligard is already doing it’s job. In high-risk, surgery-not-an-option cases like mine, it’s standard to stay on hormone therapy for several months before radiation because outcomes are better when ADT throws the first punch. Radiation is the second punch—and hopefully the knockout.
Eligard will keep suppressing the cancer in the months to come. I’m not unprotected. I’m not waiting with no treatment. I’m already on treatment.
I’m not thrilled with the timeline, but at least I understand now that the cancer is being actively suppressed—not growing like some mutant blob in a sci-fi movie.
~ Richard La Rosa