Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the month “January, 2023”

A Relatable Perspective


When a particular resource comes across my feed, I always want to share it here, as it definitely will help some, if not many. The link I want to share today comes from a TED “talk.” TED is a non-profit organization hosting expert speakers to give short, influential and inspirational lectures. Admittedly, I do not make a habit of watching them, as most of the topics involved subjects that do not concern me. But this particular “TED talk” hits a personal note for me.

Suleika Jaouad is a young writer, speaker, and advocate, and by young, only in her 30’s, who wrote her column, “Life Interrupted” for the NY Times, as well as a book titled, “Between Two Kingdoms.” The link that I am going to share, comes from a TED talk that she gave several years ago titled, “What Almost Dying Taught Me About Living.”

Ms. Jaouad was diagnosed with leukemia back in 2011 just after graduating college, about the same age as I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, she was given only a 35% chance of survival. Spoiler alert, she had achieved remission and seemingly had gotten back to living, something all too familiar with cancer survivors. And just like many of us fellow survivors, it was not the kind of “return to life” that we had been expecting. And that is what her talk was about.

The talk is just over seventeen minutes long (with commercials), but filled with so much insight and understanding of the mind of a cancer survivor, I know from watching, I still have things to learn even about myself, nearly 34 years out from Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

She speaks of her four year battle, yes 4 YEARS! Instead of pursuing her career in journalism, she spent those years becoming an unofficial medicinist, someone forced to learn what is going on with their body medically, and what needs to be done. She talked of people treating her differently, that any concept she may have had about her future, would never be the same. She talked about total loss from employment, a place to live, and something hard to imagine as an adult, the loss of independence.

And then she struck the first nerve with me, when she spoke of associating with other cancer patients, because that was the world she was a part of now. Something only a cancer survivor or current cancer patient can appreciate, even finding humor or entertainment, even among the difficulties of treatments.

Ms. Jaouad’s lecture was not entirely about her cancer journey, and for what was probably the longest years of her life, she only committed approximately three minutes of the seventeen minutes to her battle. She then turned to survivorship.

Upon entering the survivor stage, getting into remission, the people around us have changed. Just as we may have been treated differently during our treatments, how we get treated after treatments, will also change, and not always for the better. We get anointed with unsolicited titles such as a warrior or described as courageous, brave, or inspirational, likely better of a person for what we had been through. When I heard her mention that last part, I was like “wow, I dislike that even more than I originally did when I first heard it years ago.” While similarly I think she and I have in common, cancer definitely changed out lives, it is hard to say if it should even be judged as if it was for the better. Who is to say there was anything wrong with us before we had cancer?

Life after that final treatment, after a patient is in remission, is never, and will never be the same. I wish this would have been explained to me over thirty years ago. Clearly, patients still are not being prepared for that today. Because that is at the heart of Ms. Jaouad’s lecture.

Ms. Jaouad states that labelling us with the title of warrior, or portraying survivors as some sort of Hollywood story of success, one of which we should be grateful for, actually does more harm to us, rather than encourage us. And I would agree, even all of these years later, I am uncomfortable being told I am an inspiration, surviving decades like I have. Because the truth is, too many do not, and it is hard to justify who is lucky to and who does not. And this by no means that neither Ms. Jaouad or I are not grateful, we definitely are, but this is the foundation of what is known as Survivor’s guilt.

Relationships permanently change even if they remain in tact, by the thinnest of threads. But there is one relationship that seems to withstand the cancer experience, and that is the bond that cancer patients and survivors make with each other. I often use the expression when talking to other patients or when dealing with other situations, “I understand” as opposed to “I know”, because even if I am talking to another person with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, their experiences are still different from mine. There is no way for me to know how that person is feeling inside. But I can understand.

Then there is the physical toll on the body. It takes a long time for the body to recover from the immediate side effects of the treatments. And then, if you have followed my blog for even just a few months, that toll continues to grow even decades later. The body NEVER recovers. Again, not that it would have changed my mind to go for cure or not, but it would have been nice to be able to try and prepare mentally. And according to Ms. Jaouad’s story, decades later, patients are still not being prepared for this reality, the inability to maintain a full time work schedule, frequent absences, and risks with other employees who come to work sick, exposing the compromised survivor’s immune system, more susceptible to illness.

Emotionally, patients STILL to this day, are not encouraged to get emotional help to deal with their fears of relapsing, grief, and yes, PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), yes, the same disorder that most people think only those who go to war can develop. Cancer survivors, survivors of any traumatic event, car crash, earth quake, Covid, can develop PTSD. Yet, we do not prepare the cancer patient and survivor.

Ms. Jaouad then finishes her lecture about wanting to make her survivorship matter. I cannot speak for her limitations, but it is likely, like me, she cannot donate blood or organs. I know I will never discover anything important. I want to make my survivorship matter. And that is why I write “Paul’s Heart”. That is why I am still active counseling cancer patients. That is why I participate in forums all over social media in regard to health care and survivorship. That is why when I give speeches on survivorship, I write a new speech for each one, because in between speeches, I have learned something new about myself, and my survivorship. My hope, my wish, is that I reach just at least one person, and it makes a difference. To my last breath, this is how I live my life.

My relationships, which there are many, but very few that are not cancer related, are important to me. I meet and keep in touch with as many fellow survivors as I can, not just because I care about them, but because I know that if the time came, that I needed some unquestioned understanding, it would come from them. I am not knocking my family or close friends. That is just the way it is.

Please watch the video link. I promise you, you will get much more, listening to her own words. Even better, I now have another book I need to read, “Between Two Kingdoms.”

Ms. Jaouad married Grammy winner and former Late Night Band Leader Jon Batiste a few years ago. Sadly, Ms. Jaouad relapsed in late 2021, going through yet another transplant and more treatments. I have begun to see more stories about her and the life she has gone through, and continues to. But if there is one thing that is obvious from watching her video, she knows what it takes physically, and mentally to get through it again.

Going Home


It was a surreal feeling. I was being discharged from the hospital, back in April of 2008, after having a life saving emergency double bypass for a “widow maker” blockage of my heart. I was 42 years old. This was when my life, and my health, would change forever.

I was too young for this to happen. Everyone was saying it in the operating room. I heard them before I fell asleep from the anesthesia. When I awoke, I was attached to several machines, one of which was doing my breathing for me. As time would pass, and I would be expected to begin moving around, I discovered that in less than 48 hours, I had lost all of my strength from being confined to the hospital bed. I had countless people making a fuss over me, from techs taking blood, nurses monitoring vital signs, and of course, plenty of visits from residents, and therapists, physical and mental. My life would never be the same.

A hospital chaplain had even come into my room the day I was discharged, not to preach to me or spread Gospel, but just to prepare me mentally for the possible emotional waves I could (and did) face, to understand they were real, more importantly, normal.

It may sound cliche, that as I was rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair, climbing into my car, as a rare passenger, not the driver, but I did feel as if I had a new start. Physically, at least as far as my body and looks, they were still the same, but everything else about me felt different. Though not consciously doing it, I could tell that things were appearing to me differently, giving me a new sense of appreciation. I was noticing details on the ride home that I had never seen before, or had not remembered in a long time. I guess this would be where the reminder “remember to smell the roses” would apply.

I could walk. Clearly I was weak physically. My mind was clear. I knew that I was about to die, and the steps it took for the doctors to save my life. And I wanted to do all I could, to recover fully, and quickly.

I had not seen my golden retriever Pollo in almost a week. We had never been away from each other. On an average day, upon my arrival home from work, he would get up on his hind legs, front legs on my shoulders as if to give me a hug hello when I came in the door. I had no idea what to expect when I walked in the door for the first time at that moment, but I was definitely concerned that I could not survive a full-on “where the hell were you” excited ambush from him. What I got instead, surprised me, but then solidified the best friend I knew that I had in him. As the front door opened, he stood in the kitchen doorway, perhaps with that “look, (where were you?)” which quickly turned to “glad you are home,” as he calmly walked up to me, circled around me, and then just stood against my left leg. He “knew” something had happened and was not right.

From there, I positioned myself on our couch, and my (then)wife turned on the television, so she could catch her daily soap opera. I have seen these two shows in particular over time, when I could not avoid it, and this was one of those occasions. I never pay attention because the story lines are all the same, for some reason, until now.

In this particular episode, one of the characters, a woman, was having open heart surgery. Very quickly, it became too much for me emotionally. I lost it, completely breaking down. My wife came rushing into the family room, “what is it?” I could not even get the words out, just pointing to the screen, but even she was not able to understand what I was trying to get out. I had never felt this way. But seeing on television, albeit in lesser detail, what had literally just been done to me, was too soon. I had my first flashback from the surgery of many. Welcome to the world of PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder. As I found out, PTSD did not just affect soldiers of war.

My first few weeks at home, I had a visiting nurse, documented my vital signs and weight, and as instructed, went for daily walks. Unfortunately, as I went for those walks, which happened to be along a main road which led to where I worked, and would now be out sick for a lengthy period of time to recover from my surgery, several of my co-workers spotted me. They decided to notify management that they had seen me, that I looked “great,” and were frustrated that I was not back at work yet, clearly “milking my absence” according to them.

Now it should be clear, the orders to return to work, were 3 to 6 months post surgery, and that was between me and my doctor, and the health services/HR department at work. This was day 3. While cardiac wise, an average patient might return to a less physically demanding job in three to four weeks, I had a very physically demanding job. And with one major issue that complicated my healing process, a history of radiation therapy to the chest area, and a freshly cracked open breast bone for the surgery, that breast bone would take additional time to heal. I knew that because my doctors told me that. Evidently some of my co-workers felt they needed to know this information as well. But even then, they were judging me on my shell, what the only thing they could see about this situation, since my heart and breast bone were internal, I looked great on the outside, now get back to work.

It actually got worse with my employment as time went on. Although I was protected by both the Americans With Disabilities Act and the Family Medical Leave Act, that did not stop me being sent a termination of employment notice less than the minimum three months ordered by my doctor, unless I returned to work, as the protection of the FMLA had expired. Though I knew my legal rights, and was prepared to fight them as hard as I could, that would not help me in the short while, if I were to lose my income. Knowing that I could count on a handful of workers to watch out for me, and help me as needed, I needed to convince my doctor, to go against his own recommendations, and release me back to work, knowing full well, I risked either reinjuring my rib cage, or worse, impacting my heart and recent bypass. I still needed to complete my cardiac rehab, but without my job, that rehab would never happen as I would have lost my health benefits.

In the end, nobody won by my early return to work. A bitter management failed to dump the perceived dead weight and an adversarial advocate for his co-workers, and as for me, my health continued to decline, perhaps even quicker. Had I to do the whole recovery over again, I am not sure I would have wanted my doctor to let me go back to work sooner than I was ready.

Which brings me to a story many of us have been following since it occurred more than ten days ago, Buffalo Bills’ Damar Hamlin. Collapsing on the field of a regular season football game with playoff implications, going into cardiac arrest, which normally would lead to death, on national Monday Night Football, on January 2nd, Hamlin, was transferred from an Ohio hospital to a Buffalo hospital a little over a week later, and after completing some more tests, was sent home for the rest of his recovery.

Anyone watching the final season game of the Bills last weekend, saw the opening kickoff returned for a touchdown by the Bills, clearly building from the emotional lift given by communications directly from Hamlin himself to his fellow players. Any fan who has seen a serious football injury, and to be given inspiration by that player, or just as in the movie “Rudy,” inspiration is definitely a powerful thing. The Bills won that game, and now the playoffs begin.

Of course, all of the chatter has been, will Hamlin be able to return to football? Should he return to football? What about the playoffs? If there is anything you read in my situation, you can make no mistake, if Hamlin had his way, he would be suiting up for the Bills playoff game against the rival Miami Dolphins. But also, just as in my situation, there is likely a lot going on through his head, though I am sure he wants to return, even with the cliche “lightning does not strike twice,” will not ease that shadow hanging over Hamlin if he decides to return. As a football fan, I have seen plenty of players reinjure themselves or have their play impacted worrying about a reinjury.

Make no mistake, what happened on that football field January 2nd to today, is nothing short of miraculous. I know I was not allowed to watch hockey games in the hospital because of what it did to my heart rate, so I was really surprised, though not really, he was allowed to watch the game this past weekend. But I am sure he will be watching this Sunday, even more so, wishing he was able to play. I think no one would begrudge the Bills getting more emotional inspiration from Hamlin during the playoffs.

Most football injuries are serious, but this is the first time, the NFL almost had a fatality during an actual game. If Hamlin wants to come back, it should definitely be on his own terms, and definitely when he is ready.

Did He Really Ask That?


The news this morning for anyone following the health situation of Buffalo Bills safety Damar Hamlin, who collapsed on the field following a tackle, suffering cardiac arrest, having to be actually revived on the field, is GREAT! After being treated in the intensive care unit, sedated while in critical condition, this 24 year-old “kid”, is awake, and communicating. In fact, as of yesterday, he spoke with his teammates via Facetime, after the breathing tube had been removed, a truly astonishing moment, something both fans of sports and non-fans had been hoping to see for this young man.

Two days ago however, while Hamlin was still intubated (connected to a breathing machine), Hamlin was still able to communicate, via writing, and it is what he “asked” that left some scratching their heads as to his priorities, others thinking “that’s who he is,” and others wondering if there was anything wrong. You see, the last thing Hamlin remembers is playing a football game. No one has mentioned if he remembers the play that almost killed him. But he does remember he was playing a game. Though I am sure it is gently being explained to him, where he is, and why, I am certain, there was a lot of mass confusion for him when his eyes opened.

“Did we win the game?” That is reportedly one of the first things Hamlin was able to communicate with assistance. While all of us watching, are worried if he would even recover, Hamlin was worried about the game result. But again, there are factors here to understand. Sure, the game mattered to Hamlin, and he likely had no idea how serious the situation was. But his brain has likely not processed everything either as to what has happened.

The truth is, we have likely seen a situation ourselves like this before, though hopefully not as severe.

Both of my daughters required tubes placed in their ears as infants/toddlers for relief of chronic ear infections. My older daughter woke up with no issues from the anesthesia. But my younger daughter came to with a confusion that left her confused and hysterical, not waking up where she last knew she was (the recovery room as opposed to the hospital bay where she fell asleep). Her reaction could not have been any more terrifying to her.

I have my own experience as well, and a bit more detailed. In general, I handle anesthesia fairly well. But when I had my emergency double bypass for my LAD blockage, caused by the damage from my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma treatments decades earlier, that was a different story, and somewhat similar to Hamlin’s situation.

I was just coming out of anesthesia that was for a simpler procedure, a catheterization, that was just going to place some stents where the blockage was. The surgeon was explaining it could not be done after all, that instead, I was set up for emergency bypass the next morning at 6:30am. Though my head was foggy, I remember most of the conversation. In fact, I remember much of the activity the rest of the evening as all kinds of tests were being done on me to prepare for the early morning surgery. I remember the large, burly orderly sent to “clean me up,” and take me downstairs. He was the size of Michael Clark Duncan in The Green Mile, definitely not getting any struggle from me.

My last memory of that morning, was laying on a table, completely naked with a blanket covering me. My arms were being secured in a position to allow the surgeon to perform the bypass. I saw so many people walking around, preparing all kinds of materials and equipment I assumed was for me. Then the last thing I remember, and it was a comment made, “he’s so young, too young for this,” referring to me being 42 years of age at the time, but nearly 20 years after my treatments. And then I was out.

I awoke temporarily, evidently panicking, unaware of what all had been done to me, which I recall barely, and was put back out again. The medical staff could not risk anything with my newly repaired heart. After a time, I came to again, this time, a nurse was standing in front of me. I could not see around her. I also could not move. I could not talk. But I could hear her.

“My name is Jackie. I am your nurse. You are doing great Mr. Edelman. I want you to remain calm, and I will tell you everything you need to know. Your surgery is over. Everything went well. You have a tube down your throat which is helping you breath, so you are not able to talk. That tube will come out sometime soon. You will hear a lot of machines, they are all monitoring you. For now, you can communicate with me by blinking your eyes, once for “yes” and twice for “no” as I will only ask you “yes or no” questions. Do you understand me?

I blinked one time. I made it. I survived the surgery. I have no idea what happened, as nothing was explained to me prior. Actually there was no time. I nodded back off to sleep. Obviously, I had been given more pain medication, as it is likely my heartrate was getting to high again.

When I woke again, Jackie had been standing by my bed, performing her care tasks for me. I reached her with my right hand, giving a slight tug on her nursing uniform. She smiled and told me again, everything was okay. I was doing great, as expected. This time, however, I was able to motion, back and forth with that same right hand, finger pointing, as if something was of concern to me. Very much reminiscent of Hamlin. Like him, I had something on my mind prior to my cardiac event.

If you go back to my story “CABG, Not Just A Green Leafy Vegetable,” I had a “priority” of a wedding I was to DJ for. I never had the chance to notify the bride what was going on, and that she would need to find another DJ, just days before her wedding.

I began to make a motion with my right pointer finger, it should be noted I am left handed. I started drawing on my bed with that finger, Jackie realizing I was trying to communicate with her. She soon realized I was trying to write numbers. And then, she recognized I was giving her a phone number. My “then” wife, was nowhere to be found, at least by my bedside, Jackie wrote down the numbers she believes I wrote, and asked “is this a phone number?” I blinked “yes.” “Would you like me to call the number?” Again, I blinked “yes.”

And so, Jackie dialed the number into her phone. Someone on the other end of the line answered. Jackie asked the other person on the end, “do you know a ‘Paul Edelman’?” The person clearly answered as I could see the shock on Jackie’s face, and then she repeated what was said to her, “he is your DJ for your wedding this Saturday? (just two days away)”. I gave the “ok” sign with my hand to tell her it was okay for her to tell the person on the phone, I was not sure if it was the bride or the groom she was talking to, what had happened to me.

As Jackie was doing this, I tugged again at her, and again began to “draw” with my pointer finger. Jackie asked the other person to hold as she tried to interpret what I was writing. I actually wrote another phone number, this one for a competitor DJ who I felt might be able to bail me/us out. Jackie asked if I wanted them to call the number, and I blinked “yes.”

Once the tube had been removed, and I had been moved out of the ICU, I reached out to the newlyweds, apologized profusely for the inconvenience, which they were totally understanding about. They were shocked I had the wherewithall, to reach out to them, evening having the phone number of a competitor in my memory, given what I was going through.

So for me, it came as no surprise, that the first thing that Damar Hamlin was concerned about, and when able to convey, was “did we win the game?” This was definitely a huge sign that he was hopefully on the road to a full recovery. Though there are no details about what he actually remembers, from the tackle, to the collapse on the field, to finally coming to in the ICU, he clearly is able to recall what he was doing, playing a football game. And depending on what had been explained to him since his awakening, he is focused on getting back onto the field. Which for the fans, his teammates, the teammates of the team he was playing against, and the NFL, the game was the furthest thing from everyone’s mind, except for Hamlin.

We do not know yet, what Hamlin’s recovery will be, nor, any lingering effects from the event. As a cardiac patient and survivor myself, the days ahead are crucial to be careful, and to pay attention to every detail. Some are beginning to ask if he can ever play again, much like Chris Pronger of the NHL continued to play for years after he took a puck in the chest, dropping him, much like the way Hamlin went down. Who knows Hamlin’s future? But what we do know, that the preparations by the team medical staff made a life and death difference that day, resuscitating Hamlin on the field. His chances of survival and recovery are so much more better because of the Bill’s trainer.

Many of us have been on the other ending when it comes to the failure of the heart, especially with someone so young. And we wish there definitely could have been a different ending, and would do anything to bring back that loved one. That pain we feel is all the more reason, we need to find comfort and joy, that Hamlin’s story appears to be going in the right direction. 42 years was “too young” for what I went through? 24 year-old Hamlin was too young for a cardiac event like this. But it happened.

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