Lung Cancer UK
new government advertising campaign is warning the public to be vigilant about persistent coughs as they could be a sign of lung cancer.
The campaign, which is being run in TV, radio, print and online media, recommends that people with coughs lasting longer than three weeks visit their GP.
Research has shown that the public are much more aware that lumps and bleeding are warning signs of cancer than a cough.
new government advertising campaign is warning the public to be vigilant about persistent coughs as they could be a sign of lung cancer.
The campaign, which is being run in TV, radio, print and online media, recommends that people with coughs lasting longer than three weeks visit their GP.
Research has shown that the public are much more aware that lumps and bleeding are warning signs of cancer than a cough.
As a prostate cancer survivor (over ten years) I don’t think there is a easier way than a PSA test for detection.
Confirming is a hole other ball game. The conventional insert finger, sing moon river is obsolete when you can just draw blood.
If there is a suspicion of cancer a biopsy is the only way to confirm. A tube up the butt and removal of pieces of the prostate for analysis. It’s relatively painless, feels like being stung by a rubber band. No anesthesia is necessary.
Now comes the important part, a full body scan is needed to determine if the cancer has spread. If not there is a high probability of survival. If it has spread you can pretty much kiss your ass goodbye.
I asked the oncologist how long I would have lived had I done nothing, he bluntly stated less than a year.
Rule of thumb, get a PSA test once a year starting at 50.
If there is a history in the family, IE, father, uncle, start at 40.
So does preventive care work? In my case it’s a big ole yes!
For those who say no, they can kiss my still alive ass.
yup.,, hopefully the Chinese have the answer. (re-posting the article)
http://publishing.aip.org/publishin...method-non-invasive-prostate-cancer-screening
from the article:
"While a simple blood test for elevated levels of a protein marker known as prostate specific antigen (PSA) has been used for years to screen for early cases of prostate cancer, the test is far from perfect because the elevated PSA levels can be caused by many things unrelated to cancer. This contributes to over-diagnosis, uncomfortable tissue biopsies and other unnecessary treatment, which can be costly and carry significant side effects. Because of this, the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force now recommends against PSA-based screening for prostate cancer."
nonetheless, non-specific as it is, its still a tool used for diagnosis .
what we as a society ought to do is aim to NOT need cancer screening, diabetes screening,,,etc, that is ,PREVENTING SO much cancer outright that screening for it is no longer warranted. Is it possible to dramatically alter prevalence rates of our long list of 'diseases of civilization' (diabetes out of control)?
yes
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19667296
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15010446
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/8411605
we need these guys to keep growing:
http://www.lifestylemedicine.org/define
and these guys...
http://www.acpm.org/?page=LifestyleMedicine
a good read....
[h=1]Cancer makes you realize the gift of time[/h]
written by Dr. Dizon, an oncologist
When I was 16 my dad had a heart attack. I still recall studying in my room when my mom came in to tell me he wasn’t feeling well. At the time, I was a volunteer in the emergency room at our local hospital, located in the tiny Pacific Island of Guam. I recall asking him what he was experiencing: elephant sitting on his chest (yes), shortness of breath (yes), pain down his arm (yes)—it was my first diagnosis, and unfortunately, I had diagnosed an acute myocardial infarction on my own father.
As I sped toward the hospital, my dad lost consciousness. I watched helplessly as they wheeled him into the code room, watched the door close amid a flurry of controlled chaos. During those tense hours in the hallway, time stopped for my mom and me. The only thought I had was “But …” As he was fighting for his life that night, I thought about all the things we had not said, things we had not done. I feared that I would lose him before I graduated high school.
Fortunately, he survived that night and recovered without sequela. Over the course of decades, his heart disease became a chronic problem, devolving into a cardiomyopathy. Still, he lived well, traveled frequently, and golfed 18 holes with regularity. That is, until two years ago.
I was called home then—to Guam. He lay in an ICU on a morphine drip. The doctors knew there were no treatment options left and they had feared he would not survive this event. My father had not heard them—he had asked for me. Armed with my medical degree, I stepped in to the role of patient advocate. Knowing my dad was terminal, I was his “son the doctor” and worked with his medical team and my family to figure out what to do next. We discussed hospice then, and it was left to me to tell him he was dying.
Before I left Guam, I saw him discharged home and set up with hospice. We spent time together, discussed the things that had made him happy and the things that he would miss. I got the chance to tell him how much I loved him. He told me he was proud of me and the family I had.
Four weeks later, my phone rang while I was driving home from work.
“Don, there’s something wrong with your dad.” It was my mom. Even from so far away I could sense her panic.
“What’s wrong,” I asked, aware that my heart had started to thump faster and harder.
“He’s not moving. He won’t wake up.” She said.
“Can someone feel his chest? See if you can detect his heartbeat. If not, feel his neck for his pulse.”
After some shuffling, my sister retrieved the phone. “There’s no pulse.”
“Can someone grab a mirror and place it under his nose? Check to see if he’s breathing.”
A pause followed, and then “No, I don’t think he’s breathing.”
“Get a flashlight—check to see if his pupils respond to light.”
A longer pause as my family tried to locate a flashlight, and then, “No, there’s no reaction.”
“Let me speak to mom, then.”
“Hello,” my mom said.
“Mom, dad’s gone. He’s dead.” And just like that, I had pronounced my own father over the telephone.
These thoughts came to me after seeing the movie, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. It’s a movie set after 9/11 and tells the stories of death—one violent and immediate; the other protracted as a result of illness.
It was, in a way, my own experience with my dad. In the one, I was young and shocked to learn I could lose my dad so suddenly, with so much left unsaid. In the other, I had become a man in the presence of my father, developed a friendship as equals, and ultimately, bore witness as my dad lived out the last weeks of his life, and, most importantly, experienced closure before he passed on. In the end, I believe my dad experienced what I think people (and my patients) deserve when that time arrives—a “good death.”
If there is anything that oncology makes us realize, it is the gift of time. Although cancer cuts life short for the majority, it usually will provide for time at the end of life. As oncologists, we should not rob our patients of the time at the end of life, the opportunity for closure, and the chance to “say what needs to be said”. It is an opportunity not afforded to many others, and it was probably one of the most important lessons my dad taught me.
Don S. Dizon is an oncologist who blogs at ASCO Connection
[h=1]Cancer makes you realize the gift of time[/h]
written by Dr. Dizon, an oncologist
When I was 16 my dad had a heart attack. I still recall studying in my room when my mom came in to tell me he wasn’t feeling well. At the time, I was a volunteer in the emergency room at our local hospital, located in the tiny Pacific Island of Guam. I recall asking him what he was experiencing: elephant sitting on his chest (yes), shortness of breath (yes), pain down his arm (yes)—it was my first diagnosis, and unfortunately, I had diagnosed an acute myocardial infarction on my own father.
As I sped toward the hospital, my dad lost consciousness. I watched helplessly as they wheeled him into the code room, watched the door close amid a flurry of controlled chaos. During those tense hours in the hallway, time stopped for my mom and me. The only thought I had was “But …” As he was fighting for his life that night, I thought about all the things we had not said, things we had not done. I feared that I would lose him before I graduated high school.
Fortunately, he survived that night and recovered without sequela. Over the course of decades, his heart disease became a chronic problem, devolving into a cardiomyopathy. Still, he lived well, traveled frequently, and golfed 18 holes with regularity. That is, until two years ago.
I was called home then—to Guam. He lay in an ICU on a morphine drip. The doctors knew there were no treatment options left and they had feared he would not survive this event. My father had not heard them—he had asked for me. Armed with my medical degree, I stepped in to the role of patient advocate. Knowing my dad was terminal, I was his “son the doctor” and worked with his medical team and my family to figure out what to do next. We discussed hospice then, and it was left to me to tell him he was dying.
Before I left Guam, I saw him discharged home and set up with hospice. We spent time together, discussed the things that had made him happy and the things that he would miss. I got the chance to tell him how much I loved him. He told me he was proud of me and the family I had.
Four weeks later, my phone rang while I was driving home from work.
“Don, there’s something wrong with your dad.” It was my mom. Even from so far away I could sense her panic.
“What’s wrong,” I asked, aware that my heart had started to thump faster and harder.
“He’s not moving. He won’t wake up.” She said.
“Can someone feel his chest? See if you can detect his heartbeat. If not, feel his neck for his pulse.”
After some shuffling, my sister retrieved the phone. “There’s no pulse.”
“Can someone grab a mirror and place it under his nose? Check to see if he’s breathing.”
A pause followed, and then “No, I don’t think he’s breathing.”
“Get a flashlight—check to see if his pupils respond to light.”
A longer pause as my family tried to locate a flashlight, and then, “No, there’s no reaction.”
“Let me speak to mom, then.”
“Hello,” my mom said.
“Mom, dad’s gone. He’s dead.” And just like that, I had pronounced my own father over the telephone.
These thoughts came to me after seeing the movie, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. It’s a movie set after 9/11 and tells the stories of death—one violent and immediate; the other protracted as a result of illness.
It was, in a way, my own experience with my dad. In the one, I was young and shocked to learn I could lose my dad so suddenly, with so much left unsaid. In the other, I had become a man in the presence of my father, developed a friendship as equals, and ultimately, bore witness as my dad lived out the last weeks of his life, and, most importantly, experienced closure before he passed on. In the end, I believe my dad experienced what I think people (and my patients) deserve when that time arrives—a “good death.”
If there is anything that oncology makes us realize, it is the gift of time. Although cancer cuts life short for the majority, it usually will provide for time at the end of life. As oncologists, we should not rob our patients of the time at the end of life, the opportunity for closure, and the chance to “say what needs to be said”. It is an opportunity not afforded to many others, and it was probably one of the most important lessons my dad taught me.
Don S. Dizon is an oncologist who blogs at ASCO Connection
um, this is huge, .......about time
http://www.medpagetoday.com/Endocrinology/Obesity/49587
Treat weight problems first, then deal with comorbidities like dyslipidemia, hypertension, and impaired glucose tolerance, a new guideline urges.
It's an entirely new approach to the treatment of disease, said Caroline Apovian, MD, of Boston University, the lead author of a new guideline for treating obesity with medications, published online in the Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism.
"The old paradigm was to treat each comorbidity with medications ... then manage obesity, which caused most of the original problems in the first place," Apovian said during a press briefing. "The new paradigm is to manage the obesity first, with lifestyle change and medications, then manage the remainder of the comorbidities that have not responded
The guideline focuses on medical management of obesity, a component left out of earlier guidelines released by the American Heart Association, the American College of Cardiology, and the Obesity Society, since they were written before many of the new weight-loss drugs were approved.
Those drugs, coupled with extensive lifestyle counseling and clinician visits, are poised to help patients who've struggled to lose weight for years by enhancing their ability to make behavioral change, Apovian said.
That, in turn, should diminish their need for medications to manage other conditions that are tied to obesity, including diabetes, hypertension, and dyslipidemia, she said.
Several obesity experts contacted by MedPage Today said they agreed with the new guidance, that treating overweight and obesity could resolve many of the conditions that commonly occur with it.
.......about timehttp://www.medpagetoday.com/Endocrinology/Obesity/49587
Treat weight problems first, then deal with comorbidities like dyslipidemia, hypertension, and impaired glucose tolerance, a new guideline urges.
It's an entirely new approach to the treatment of disease, said Caroline Apovian, MD, of Boston University, the lead author of a new guideline for treating obesity with medications, published online in the Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism.
"The old paradigm was to treat each comorbidity with medications ... then manage obesity, which caused most of the original problems in the first place," Apovian said during a press briefing. "The new paradigm is to manage the obesity first, with lifestyle change and medications, then manage the remainder of the comorbidities that have not responded
The guideline focuses on medical management of obesity, a component left out of earlier guidelines released by the American Heart Association, the American College of Cardiology, and the Obesity Society, since they were written before many of the new weight-loss drugs were approved.
Those drugs, coupled with extensive lifestyle counseling and clinician visits, are poised to help patients who've struggled to lose weight for years by enhancing their ability to make behavioral change, Apovian said.
That, in turn, should diminish their need for medications to manage other conditions that are tied to obesity, including diabetes, hypertension, and dyslipidemia, she said.
Several obesity experts contacted by MedPage Today said they agreed with the new guidance, that treating overweight and obesity could resolve many of the conditions that commonly occur with it.
Yet you don't read what the articles all say. Are you surprised that 14 studies found that yearly physical exams for healthy adults provides low to minimal results?
Here one of your articles states,
"It’s important to point out that the benefit estimate from mammography varies by age. The younger a woman is, the less she stands to gain because her overall risk of cancer is low. As a woman ages, her risk for cancer rises, and so does the value of mammography. So while regular mammograms might lower the risk of death from breast cancer by about 15 percent among women in their 40s and 50s, the benefit to women in their 60s is a 32 percent reduction in mortality.
In the JAMA report, the numbers are laid out this way: If 10,000 women in their 40s were to get regular mammograms, an estimated 30 breast cancer deaths would occur despite screening, with around five deaths prevented. For 10,000 women in their 60s, that number rises to 90 deaths despite screening, but about 42 lives saved."
Gee whiz there is some lives being saved by preventive care going on here.
how am I suppose to know you just say it doesn't save lives I can bring up countless studies and cases where it does.
mammogram testing should be for older age women and those genetically at risk. giving a mammogram to a group of healthy 25 year old women would make no sense but that's not the only form of preventive care out there
