Health Conversations Between Black Men #3
- Shawn Kennedy
- Sep 29
- 3 min read
"Elinor McNeel shared her younger brother’s prostate cancer journey with us. Unfortunately, his journey did not have a happy ending."
Sometimes conversations about Black men’s health are discussed between both genders. Elinor McNeel shared her younger brother’s prostate cancer journey with us. Unfortunately, his journey did not have a happy ending. We sincerely hope that his journey will not be in vain but will serve as a wake-up call to other men to not only get their annual PSA screening, but to also follow through with their prescribed treatment plan.
Elinor McNeel: “My younger brother of four years was Steven Vincent Russell. He was a father, aerospace engineer and software specialist, photographer, computer consultant and a hard worker. In 2006, Steven, who was 60-years-old, came by my house complaining about aching. I asked him about the last time he had a checkup but Steven saw no reason to see a doctor. Maybe he thought he was fine since a mobile medical truck would occasionally stop at his job to give chest x-rays and other tests. So I scheduled an appointment with an urologist to check Steven’s PSA level. It was elevated and a later biopsy revealed a low grade but aggressive type of prostate cancer. Steven agreed to undergo Brachytherapy, with radiation treatments two weeks afterwards. He willingly took the Brachytherapy but failed to return for his follow-up radiation treatments. I didn’t know this at that time. As I reflect back, I can remember when Steven was a senior in high school in 1964. The military came out to classify male students for the draft. During his exam, a white doctor intentionally rammed his finger in Steven’s rectum during a digital prostate exam. Steven swore he would never have an exam like that again.
As time progressed (2006-2012), another MRI eventually revealed Steven’s cancer had metastasized to his bones. He seemed caviler when he said, ‘Now I know how I’m going to die.’ I told Steven I would take care of him until the end of his journey. Steven started receiving extensive radiation and chemotherapy treatments from City of Hope Hospital. One day his thigh hurt him so badly, that Steven went back to the hospital with a blood clot and had to stay in rehab for one month. His condition worsened during 2013-2014. Steven had gotten weaker, needed a cane to walk and ended up wheelchair bound. I can remember overhearing him talking to a neighbor, who just had metastasized bilateral breast removal and was trying to consider radiation for herself. Steven told her, ‘Don’t do what I did. Get the radiation.’
In 2015, Steven was bedridden and placed on home hospice. When his pain increased, I would administer morphine with an eye dropper in the corner of Steven’s mouth. Eventually the morphine was no longer strong enough to soothe his pain, so the doctor switched it to Dilaudid, which is a more potent painkiller. On the evening of November 26, he called me into his room. He named family members and stated how much he loved each one of them, including me. My brother knew that I would do anything to comfort him and he knew how much he was loved. We were very close, and he thanked me every day for being there for him. Steven passed away the next morning at the age of 69. I hated to see the suffering my brother endured because it could have all been prevented.”
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