When I moved from Fort Worth to Dallas and in with Sherri, one of the things we did together was find a new doctor. We decided to use the same primary care physician, which honestly felt kind of cool—one more “we’re doing life together” moment.

We both scheduled our individual checkups and blood work in late August. Everything felt routine… until a few weeks later.

In mid-September, I got a call from the doctor’s office asking me to come back in for a follow-up appointment. That’s never a call you ignore—or feel great about.

During that visit, my doctor explained that she had noticed something concerning in my medical history. My PSA levels (Prostate-Specific Antigen) were significantly elevated—not just now, but in past charts as well.

For my age, PSA levels should typically fall between 0 and 3.5.
Mine had previously shown 13.
Now it was 16.8.

That number stopped the room.

She told me we needed to investigate further and referred me to a urologist. That’s when things started getting real.

The urologist scheduled an MRI in late September to get a closer look at my prostate. The scan showed areas that could be lesions—or possibly scar tissue. I’ve had a catheter in the past, so there was a chance that explained it… but “maybe” doesn’t exactly calm your nerves.

That’s when the mind starts running wild.

Next came the recommendation for a biopsy. The problem? The earliest available appointment wasn’t until early December. So for weeks—months, really—I lived in the space of what if.

We tried to keep living our lives. We honored our commitments. We took the trips we already had booked. We didn’t let fear steal experiences—but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t always in the back of my mind.

After returning from our Mexico trip in early November, we received a call saying an earlier biopsy appointment had opened up. Unfortunately, because of our recent travel out of the country, I couldn’t move it up. The urologist requested an exam to rule out anything travel-related that could interfere with results. That exam came back clear, and we proceeded with the original biopsy date: December 3rd.

A few days later, I got the call.

It was cancer.

Not only that—it appeared somewhat aggressive.
The tumor on the right side was fairly large.

That phone call changes everything.

Since the diagnosis in December, I’ve added a new doctor to my life: an oncologist who is also a surgeon. I was given options. I researched. I asked questions. I sat with the fear, the facts, and the future.

After a lot of thought, I’ve decided to move forward with a Radical Prostatectomy—the complete removal of the prostate.

For someone who’s never had major surgery (outside of a boxer fracture in my right hand), this is terrifying. There’s something deeply unsettling about having a part of your body removed—especially when the reason is cancer.

Honestly, the hardest part of this journey hasn’t been the appointments or the procedures.

It’s been my own thoughts.

I’m a positive person. I have an incredible support system. But the mind is powerful—and it can take you places you never meant to go if you let it.

My surgery is scheduled for March 3rd.

I’ve been told the recovery is where the real battle begins.

So for now, I’m staying focused, staying hopeful, and taking this one step at a time. Thank you for being here, for caring, and for walking this journey with us.

Stay tuned.

— Nick