"We all have a variety of distractions from our silent enemy, and I think we should be as active as possible, as long as possible."

In October 2004, Joe Moss hit a milestone he once wasn't sure he'd reach. He turned 75, and marked nearly a decade living with advanced prostate cancer.

"I did not expect [to see 75], especially at the beginning," he admits now from his home in Mayfield, New South Wales, Australia. "The birthday was pretty good, actually."

An understatement, perhaps, from a man who once thought he had only 12-18 months to live. That was in 1995, the year Moss learned he had cancer.

The diagnosis was a shock to Moss, who had always been healthy and active, playing tennis until his early 60s. Around that time, though, he started getting pains in his legs that were sometimes so severe, they kept him up at night. Doctors diagnosed arthritis, and Moss began treatment. But the pain didn't go away.

After months of consulting different specialists, Moss was sent for an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) scan in August 1995. The troubling results prompted blood tests, x-rays, bone scans, and a biopsy. In early September, Moss learned that arthritis wasn't the only cause of his discomfort.

He had stage 4 prostate cancer that had spread to the bones. He later was told that the level of PSA (prostate-specific antigen, a protein that signals prostate cancer) in his blood was nearly 4,000 nanograms/milliliter; in a man without cancer, PSA is typically below 4 ng/ml.

"I was terrified," Moss recalls. "It was very bad -- they certainly gave me that impression -- and they had to do something very quickly to keep me alive, even for a short time."

Because the cancer was too advanced to treat with surgery or radiation, Moss immediately began hormone therapy (androgen suppression), the only option left to him. He also received 5 radiation treatments, which his doctors considered a last-ditch effort to help ease what they expected to be his final weeks -- or even days.

Moss refers to his treatment as the "air strike" and his "miracle cure" because of its rapid and dramatic effects. Within a few months of beginning hormone therapy, his PSA was below 4 again. By May 1996, it was below 0.1.

Early on, however, uncertainty about his prognosis led Moss to conceal his illness from his wife and 3 grown children.

"I didn't want to terrify them by saying I've got a dreadful cancer," he explains. "I thought I'd give myself a short time to see if it looks like it's going to be a question of 12-18 months, or have I got a better prognosis than that."

It was several months before he told his wife he had cancer; until then, he had attributed his medical problems to his arthritis.

"I must say I have since got flack from my family for being vague to the point of secrecy when the 'air strike' was being carried out," Moss admits.

His honesty paid off, though. "Support came and was greatly appreciated," he says.

Thinking he had very little time left to live, Moss began chronicling his experience with cancer in a diary he intended to leave for his family upon his death. When Moss reached the 18-month survival mark in March 1997, his physicians revised his prognosis, giving him 2-3 years to live.

By the 4-year mark, in 1999, Moss found his life proceeding "at a very normal pace, with very little interference" from the cancer. By now, his diary was a book, which he called Chance for a Life.

Still, the hormone therapy that saved his life also came with side effects: impotence, hot flashes, and osteoporosis.

"I know life has been hard for my wife these past few years and she has managed generally without complaint," Moss notes. "Sometimes things get tense, but what you have to do, you have to do, so we just get on with it."

To help him cope with the physical and mental effects of his illness, Moss has relied on exercise. Although the passing years have slowed him down some, he still does 15 push-ups most mornings, and takes walks at every opportunity.

"I have found this regimen of paramount importance," he says, "and the daily commitment is an invaluable part of it."

A sense of humor has also helped things along, Moss says.

"Dying of cancer for about 10 years now should allow one a little indulgence," he says.