First, I would tell him that I remember what fear felt like. My diagnosis did not arrive with a useful instruction manual and a calm explanation of the next twenty years. A urologist left a surgery recommendation on my answering machine. I played it twice. Neither playing improved my opinion of the message.
I would also tell him that my story contains hope. After profound illness, pain, and frightening medical findings, I regained strength and energy. I have life to enjoy and a 1951 Mercury convertible waiting in my garage. That is a much better problem to think about than the ones that once occupied my couch.
But I would not tell him that buying my book or repeating my regimen could promise the same result. He deserves an honest account, not a guarantee wearing a friendly face.
Get an explanation you can use
I would want him to understand what the diagnosis actually says. What information came from the biopsy, if one was performed? What do the scans and laboratory results show? What does the team know about the extent and behavior of the disease? What remains uncertain?
Then I would encourage questions about the proposed treatment. What is its purpose? What benefit is expected for a man with those findings? What lasting effects are possible? What other reasonable options exist? How much time is medically safe to obtain another opinion?
These are questions I would bring today, not a claim that I asked every one perfectly in 1998. I was frightened and learning. If I had handled everything flawlessly, this would be a very different book and probably a much less useful one.
Keep qualified people on the team
I chose to explore nonconventional approaches, and I sometimes disagreed sharply with doctors. Even so, my urologists, oncologists, and primary care physician mattered. They provided medical knowledge, monitoring, prescriptions, and treatment I needed.
My primary care doctor noticed weight loss that I had not taken seriously. My oncologist ordered imaging. In 2026, hormone therapy became an important part of my response to advanced disease. A reader who hears only my disagreements misses how much the medical team belongs in this story.
Today I would encourage a complete, clear discussion of every medicine, supplement, and nonconventional practice. I describe times when I held back because I feared arguments. That tension is part of the memoir. It is not a reason to make another person's medical care operate with missing information.
Do not confuse a story with a study
I tried many things and developed strong opinions about them. I believe parts of my broader routine mattered to my recovery. I cannot prove the contribution of each part, and I cannot establish that another person would respond as I did.
My PSA was 369.5 ng/mL on February 27, 2026. Firmagon followed on March 10, Lupron on April 7, and PSA was 0.44 on June 24. Those are important details. They prevent the hopeful outcome from becoming an advertisement that quietly removes medical treatment from the picture.
A man considering an unconventional approach deserves to know whether there is evidence in humans, what harms are known, and whether it might interfere with treatment. Enthusiasm does not answer those questions. Neither does calling something natural. My old Chevy contained plenty of natural rust; it was not an advantage.
Bring someone into the conversation
In the book, my wife shares frightening moments, friends help with things I could no longer manage, and encouragement becomes part of looking after the driver. Illness reaches beyond laboratory numbers.
I would encourage a man to consider bringing a trusted person to important appointments, writing down questions, and asking for explanations again when necessary. Those are practical suggestions I would make now. He does not have to understand everything the first time it is said, especially when fear is doing most of the listening.
Stay involved without demanding certainty
I would not tell him which treatment to choose. I would tell him to understand his own situation, keep appropriate medical follow-up, and revisit decisions when the facts change. My decisions changed over time. Being involved includes being willing to reconsider.
The National Cancer Institute describes hormone therapy as established treatment that reduces androgen production or blocks its action. That medical context matters alongside my personal beliefs, just as each man's own clinical circumstances matter more than resemblance to a stranger's story.
My Cancer Journey offers questions, setbacks, humor, and the hope of a man who is grateful to be enjoying life again. Read it as one patient's experience. Take the questions to your own team. Keep your hands on the wheel, and make sure the people helping you can see the whole dashboard.