Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

19 Jul 2026

Ice Cream – I’ve Always Screamed For Ice Cream!


(image created via ChatGPT)

“Ice Cream! Ice Cream! We all scream for ice cream!”, the long time favorite chant. Today, thanks to a presidential act in 1984, is recognized as National Ice Cream Day. I say it is literally okay to have ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Okay, maybe a little bit overboard, but… back in 1988, when I was going through chemo for my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, it was not unusual for me to eat large amounts of ice cream (and pasta). Why you may ask?

Oddly, as part of my chemotherapy cocktail of MOPP-ABV, I won’t get into the individual drug names and issues related to each, I was actually restricted from certain foods, surprisingly and not a problem for me being a picky eater, the restrictions were for “healthy” foods such as brocolli and cauliflower, but also others that I did eat, such as processed foods like cheese, carbonated beverages, and bananas. The reasons ranged from contradictions to the chemo, to issues with bloating and gas, bacteria from eating raw or not cleaned well enough vegetables, or issues with high fiber which can be problematic if experiencing bowel or mouth irritation issues.

But do you know what was not restricted? Ice cream, and of course pasta. Again, mentioning that I am a picky eater, I had no problem with either of these options. However, a warning from my oncologist, “don’t go crazy on this stuff”, making reference to a major side effect from Prednisone, one of the chemo drugs in my cocktail, weight gain.

One thing that I had not expected going through chemotherapy, especially after going through radiation therapy having lost weight, was gaining weight. Anything I knew about chemotherapy stereotypes, was that patients looked almost waif-like having lost so much weight.

Unexpectedly, I gained fifty pounds during my chemo, I believe courtesy of the Prednisone side effects; increased hunger, fluid retention, metabolism changes, and yes, muscle loss. And when I say hunger, I mean ravenous. I could eat pints of ice cream at a time (which by the way also helped with the mouth discomfort), and quart containers of meals made of pasta.

The result of this diet? Something we in the cancer world describe as “moon face.” Now I am not going to post any picture examples of this, because this is definitely one side effect, next to hair loss, that really upsets us. But, just as it describes, the moon is round, and no matter the shapes of our faces, our faces look swollen, and much more round, like the moon as a result of the high dose prednisone intake.

Multiple drugs are often used to treat cancer together, because that is what was studied and determined to have the best chance to reach remission, and more importantly, stay in remission. And in particular, Prednisone actually helps to reduce side effects of the other chemo drugs, and has its own benefits of destroying lymphoma cells, in working with the other drugs to reduce any inflammation, reduce any potential allergies, and there is even a benefit to reducing (though not eliminating) nausea, that is what other drugs are for.

But it is that one super unfortunate side effect, increased hunger, that will easily cause a potentially major weight gain. Which to be honest, gaining some weight during chemo is not a bad thing. I do understand that the fifty pounds I gained was not good. Here is the important part.

Just like the hair loss, the weight gain is temporary. Just like the hair has already started growing back towards the end of the treatments, slowly but surely, so will the weight drop off. And if you use the hair growth by comparison, it is not going to happen overnight.

At the completion of my chemo, the date that I have marked on the calendar of this page, I gave myself a break for about two weeks just to soak in all that I had gone through, now in remission, gathered my thoughts, to produce a checklist of goals that I now wanted to achieve, and think how I could achieve them, and potentially how long they could take.

My number one issue was dropping the fifty pounds I gained. It definitely did not have me feeling well. So the easy part would be, focusing on my diet. Now off the prednisone and chemo, my diet was no longer restricted, and the amounts would be much smaller as my hunger had decreased. Exercise, even the smallest effort, such as a five-minute walk in the beginning and building up as time went on, would make a difference because for two years, I did nothing. As time went on, and I felt my body get stronger, I was able to do more. And yes, the weight did come off, all of it. It did take six months, and if you tell any of us in the beginning how long it would take, it would overwhelm us. But I am just being realistic. If you went through cancer treatments, you likely went through a year or more of some of the most difficult days. You can get through the recovery so much more easily.

The great thing is, of all the things that I “lost” my love for food-wise during my cancer days, ice cream is not one of them. Which is why I am definitely celebrating today.

(image courtesy of Simon Says Dip This)

(image courtesy of Istock)

And with three meals to choose from, it will help me not be limited to my choices… waffles and icream for breakfast, an ice cream sandwich with my lunch sandwich, and a nice sundae to cap off Sunday. Sounds like a plan.

Posted in Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Food, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart | Leave a comment
15 Jul 2026

Cringe Comedy – Can Cancer Be Humorous?


(photo courtesy of America’s Got Talent Wiki)

The other night, I was watching America’s Got Talent, and there was a comedian auditioning from a wheelchair. What seemed to take the audience by surprise, was that he made “how he got there” a part of his routine. He had been shot. He told of the response he got from a woman what had happened, when he told her that he got shot at a Halloween party, and her response was, “that’s spooky,” to the shock and dark humor look on the judges faces. He quipped that he was dressed up as Spiderman, but clearly his spidey-senses had failed him. He took several shots at himself over the incident, then turned to the next segment of his audition, applying for jobs that he couldn’t do and then just show up to the interview, such as roofing and rock climbing instructor, saying “this is the consequences if you don’t follow my instructions.” He was actually quite funny, and clearly this helps him deal with his disability.

(image from IMDB)

Brad Williams is a great comic of small stature as he describes himself as fun size like the candy bar. And boy does he have the self-deprecating material. Being caught in a major snowstorm dumping a foot of snow, his fear of tripping and falling and dying because no one would find him. Or his father, lifting him onto the kitchen island and leaving him there as punishment (time out) as a child. Even his wife gets in on it, a black belt in jujitsu, gets into an altercation with a man, only to turn to Brad and say, you defend my honor.

(image from Entertainment Weekly)

And finally, there is Josh Blue, a comic born with cerebral palsy. And yes, the majority of his act is about his disability, and he is hilarious. “There’s nothing more entertaining than watching 12 dudes with cerebral palsy getting off an airplane like some sort of zombie parade.” “I mention that I have cerebral palsy because if I don’t, after a while, the audience is sitting there wondering, ‘does he know…that he has that’?” “I went to NYC and tried to hail a taxi and caught a pigeon (because of the curvature of his hand).”

Have you ever heard of the expression, “laughter is the best form of medicine?” It is a centuries old expression with no clear origin, even mentioned in the King James bible (Proverbs 17:22 (King James Version) states, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones”). Laughter triggers profound, measurable physical and mental changes in the body. By naturally resetting your nervous system, a good laugh relieves tension, boosts your immune system, and promotes long-term cardiovascular health. And then I thought, I have never really heard any comedian make cancer part of their act. Sure, plenty comedians have experienced cancer, but I almost think, would there be too much of a risk of bringing down the audience. Clearly the only ones who would be able to tell jokes about cancer, would be those who have had cancer touch their lives. Well, that would be me, a 37 year survivor of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. How would I create a comedy bit dealing with cancer, without bringing everyone down with what is commonly referred to as “gallows” humor, yes, that kind of gallow? I think the thing to keep in mind, is that most comedians reflect on their lives with their acts, so this actually is theraputic or cathartic when dealing with themselves. Will everyone who has or has had cancer think the jokes are funny? No. Will at least an irony been seen in the routine? Perhaps. So, I thought I would give it a try. Now I’m sure it looks different on paper, than if you were seeing it live or on video. But who knows… So, here goes.

“How’s everybody doing? My name is Paul and I want to let you know, I’m a 37 year survivor of cancer! Thank you, thank you so much. Now I don’t want you to think that this is going to be a bummer set, hardly. I can hit you right from the gate, my favorite Disney movie was “Finding Chemo, and the most expensive haircut I ever got was chemotherapy. I had heard 8 cancer jokes the day I was diagnosed, and if I had heard another, it would benign. I will let that one sit a little.” Or I can just go into a story.

“When people find out that I had cancer, a common comment that comes out, ‘you’re so brave or courageous.’ Now to be clear, I didn’t volunteer to have cancer, though oncologists love to tell certain cancer patients with certain treatable cancers like mine, ‘if you’re going to get a cancer, this is the one you want.’ Want? What the fuck?!? Nobody wants cancer, it doesn’t matter how successful the treatments are.

Like, do you think I would walk into a doctor’s office, like I was looking for some grey poupon and say, ‘excuse me, do you have anything that involves chemotherapy, radiation, and lifelong anxiety?’ Cancer isn’t a gym membership. You don’t sign up because you want to.

The one comment I find somewhat odd hearing is, ‘congratulations on beating cancer.’ ‘Beating cancer?’ I didn’t beat anything, I survived it. Because if I beat cancer, I wouldn’t still be having medical appointments related to my cancer, in the form of late side effects, 37 years later. To give you an idea how this feels, and you don’t have to have cancer to understand this…

Think of someone robbing your house, and every six months the police call and say, ‘we’d just like to check and see if the burglar came back.’

And let’s talk scanxiety for a second. You don’t wait for the results, you rehearse every possible conversation in your head. Five minutes after the scan you’re thinking ‘I wonder if I should start organizing my garage,’ and the tech says, ‘the doctor will call you.’ Really? How about you just give me a thumbs up or down at least, maybe a smile, something to give me hope for the next couple weeks while I wait for the doctor’s call? You are like one of those people who know the ending of a movie and won’t tell me.’

One of my favorite things to hear is, ‘you look great!’ Which is wonderful, because I actually still feel like shit. But at least I got my money’s worth to make me look that great; modern medicine, nurses, doctors, therapists, pharmacists, family and friends who put a lot in to making me look this good.

The hardest question I get is ‘are you cured?’ I have gotten so accustomed to not using the word cured, even my doctor did not like using it, because of the slightest chance of it returning. It’s kind of like asking someone living in Florida, as I do, so…are hurricanes finished after one blows through? While I hope so, I prepare in case another one comes by.

I will tell you one situation that I did not get used to. Remeber the television show Cheers, when the character Norm would walk in and everyone would cheer his name, yeah, I got that everytime I walked into the oncologist office. Only instead of tasty beer, I got the most toxic of chemotherapy cocktails. I would rather run into everyone at a pizza place or bar.

One good thing that came from my experience, was perspective. Before cancer, I would worry about having matching socks. Now, if they’re both socks, I’m having a great day. People think survivors are fearless. We aren’t. We’re just experienced. We know life can change with just one phone call. We laugh harder now. We hug longer and and say “I love you” more often. We don’t save the good dishware for company.

Cancer took a lot from me. But it also gave me more appreciation for boring days, a beer with a friend, sunsets, hearing someone snort they laughed so hard. The moments don’t seem so ordinary anymore. They’re the jackpot.

So if you’re here tonight because you’ve survived cancer – or you’ve walked beside someone who has, give yourself a little credit. You made it through some of the hardest days imaginable. The fact that were here laughing together tonight? That’s not denial. That’s victory.

Thank you…and remember… the best revenge against cancer is living a life that refuses to let it have the last laugh.

Thank you for coming and goodnight.”

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment
30 Jun 2026

Cancer – What You Want To Know


I have been feeling restrospective a lot lately. And because it has been so long since I was diagnosed with cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, back in 1988, while I have seen progress in better diagnostics, progress in better and safer treatments, there is still something that has not made much if any progress, and that is, talk about survivorship or life after cancer.

There are three questions that pop into mind once you hear the words, “you have cancer.” The first, “Am I going to die?” And the second, “What am I going to have to go through for treatments?” A compassionate oncologist is going to answer the first question with as much positivity, and with very good reason because of all the progress made in cancer research, many cancers are highly successful with treatment. There are so many treatment options available and thanks to all the cancer survivors who came before them, science has learned what worked, and what needed to be worked on further to increase safety and success. But there is one question that I know I asked my oncologist back in 1988, and I still do not see any kind of answer to that question today. “If I get to remission, how much longer of a life will I have?”, and of course with hindsight over the last two decades, “what price will my body pay for everything that I was exposed to?”

Normally, most of us survivors only hear of the magic “five year” mark. And until we hit that five-year mark, we struggle with powerful paranoia and fear of relapsing or recurrence. Those first five years after treatment ends are the most challenging physically and emotionally. The fear of recurrence or relapse is very real, as every ache, pain, cough, or swollen lymph node immediately triggers the thought, “it’s back.” Follow up appointments which are meant to confirm all is good, can still bring intense anxiety while we wait for the words from the oncologist, “still all good.” And if there are any scans involved, we experience what is called “scanxiety,” a real and separate post.

During those first five years, we are learning to trust our bodies again. No one understands the unpredictability of their body more than a cancer survivor. There is living with the uncertainty, “will it come back?” or “How many years do I have after cancer?”

On top of that, there is the physical recovery, dealing with fatigue, which honestly never goes away fully, stamina, memory or concentration challenges (sometimes referred to as “chemo brain”), nerve problems which can persist long after treatment ends.

And then there is the adjustment emotionally. While everyone else around us celebrates that everything is over “for them” and life can get back to normal “for them,” we survivors often still process what happened for a long time and suffer from anxiety, depression, grief (yes, grief, we have experienced “loss” of what we once knew was our life before cancer), and PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder.

As we return to life, we have to find a new “normal,” as we discover so much has changed about us from how we once were. Our priorities (especially sweating the small stuff), relationships, work, and future plans are all handled differently. We do get back to managing our finances, rebuilding routines, and importantly reconnecting socially. It can be difficult at time as we have to figure out who is able to handle when we still need to talk about our experiences, not everyone is able or willing.

As much as I tried to be an inspiration for being able to get through treatments for cancer early on, after that five years had passed, I became focused on showing newer patients something to look forward to, life after cancer. I got married (twice actually), bought a house, had a nice career, and had two beautiful daughters, and a golden retriever. No, this was not the life I was heading toward in 1988, but it was what I was given after cancer.

But there was one discussion that had been left out, especially after that five years had passed. I was “dismissed” by my oncologist that it was unlikely that my cancer would return after that five years. Great! That’s all we cancer survivors want to hear. This was our gold ticket to move on with our lives. There was one problem, some of us would end up going a separate path from the straight path of life after cancer. It would take decades to get discovered and discussed, and even now does not get the attention that it should. And I am not going to make that part of this post as I talk about it in great detail on this page already, the developing of late side effects from our treatments. There is no rhyme or reason why or who develops them. Those of us who do get diagnosed with these issues are contributing to current information in regard to survivorship. But there still remains one question.

Can you live life after cancer, without having to deal with the memories, or the late side effects? Of course you can. But the question should be, “should you?” Like I said, there are no statistics stating who has gotten to live and how long without ever dealing with their cancer history again. Likewise, your oncologist should be referring you to see your primary care doctor for regular annual follow ups, not for the return of the cancer, but for the potential, not guaranteed, but potential for the development of any late side effects. Again, I have documented often how close I came, because no one was looking.

Of course, if you are like me, having these late side effects, we are documented, now. Because of those like me, and the thousands who came before me, doctors are aware of the issues that plague many survivors. It is just the surveillence and advocacy is not there, until it is too late.

So I did some research as I love to do. Now keep in mind, social media support pages can be overwhelming no matter what they health issue. Why? Because literally, everyone on those pages has an issue. Those who have nothing wrong, don’t need to be on a page like that. And those would be the numbers you are looking for, living after cancer, without the thoughts of cancer anymore. But here is what I discovered.

The fact is, we have no idea how many cancer survivors there are in the world, 30, 40, or 50 years after diagnosis. There are no worldwide or US registry that tracks survivors in that way. But one large long term study found that 52% of Hodgkin’s survivors were still alive after 30 years (it does not specify if with or without late side effects). At 40 years, the number drops down to 42%, but the study hints at issues from late side effects playing a role in the lower number. And well, 50 years, there is nothing to refer to. But I can tell you, I know plenty of 40 and 50 year survivors, and have even seen some 60 year survivors.

It’s frutstrating. Why don’t we talk about survivorship longevity, probably the most important issue once treatment ends? Or rather, why don’t we want to talk about it?

We keep all kinds of statistice on diagnosis and deaths, but never how many survivors there are or the milestones they reach. There is no excuse for losing track of patients today with technology and AI for when patients move or change health care providers. And then there is the biggest reason for wanting to know this statistic, the development of newer, better, and safer treatments.

And then there is this, funding. Survivors are not a priority for research funding. Research continues its focus on curing, not surviving and studying people alive decades after.

Look, you can live a long life after cancer, and also be unfortunate enough to deal with late side effects from the treatments. I know, I am now 37 years from my diagnosis. But because you do not know if you are going to be the lucky one who gets away actully 100% done with the topic of cancer, or someone who will face heart disease, secondary cancers, or endocrine, lung or vascular complications. And only awareness and prevention will give you those extra years. It is not an understatment, I never expected to be here to witness this milestone in my life.

But I did. I have lived long past the period that most cancer statistics discuss. And researchers are increasingly realizing that survivors like me need LIFELONG follow up care. In fact, while the medical community catches up, it is my “older” fellow long term survivors I actually owe my life to, being the ones encouraging me to be proactive, get help when needed, and most importantly, support me emotionally during the times that I struggle, and I still do.

It may have been unintentional when my doctor told me he would not use the word “cure” with me while being confident he would get me into remission. But it is hard to consider myself “cured” dealing with all the late side effects I deal with, while being in remission from the original cause. But boy, do I wish he would have told me that I would need to follow up medically for the rest of my life, that some of these issues could take decades to appear. I wish I had been warned about the emotionaly challenges. And I do wish that the majority of my friends could understand, that I cannot just “move on” or “just get over it.” Because I live with this body and all it betrays me with, every day, and often on my own so I do not burden others.

Make no mistake, cancer survivors are living a long time today. I am only one voice, so I am telling one person at a time. I have written to many networks and organization, and no one seems to want to talk about survivorship, just like science, the stories are only there for who gets diagnosed and who dies.

This is my story. I am a 37 year cancer survivor. And I feel I have a lot more years to go. Who else wants to tell their story?

Posted in Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Politics, Side Effects, The Heart | Leave a comment

Post Navigation

← Older Entries