Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Adoption”

One Proud Moment Of Many


My daughter returned to her Summer job yesterday, for her third season. I am using a picture from her youth, as I try to respect her wishes as an adult and being allowed to use pictures of her older. The seasonal position has been perfect for her while she visits with me during the Summer months. And though she saw many of the same co-workers she has seen each year, there was something new she was faced with, for the first time. One of those regular co-workers she has known since she has started, was being treated for cancer. My daughter was only aware of this fact, because her co-worker felt the need to explain to my daughter, her cancer condition is why she was wearing a mask, protecting herself from any potential infection from Covid as her body being more susceptible from treatments.

She really did not need to explain anything to my daughter about why she was wearing a mask. Me being immuno-compromised, and having lost my sister to Covid, my daughter is very well aware that some of us will likely wear masks in certain situations for the rest of our lives. My daughter is not embarrassed by me wearing a mask, nor is she triggered by anyone else wearing one. But the co-worker offering a reason, cancer, brought out in my daughter, a quality that is 100%, who I raised.

My daughter was not born until sixteen years after my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Though throughout her childhood, she is aware that I dealt with cancer. She just is not aware of how difficult it was for me, and all of the experiences that came with it. All she knew, and proclaimed whenever she had the chance, her “Dad was a cancer survivor.” It was a simple as that. But even as I dealt with all the major late side effects from my treatments, all my daughters know, and likely expect, I have gotten through every one of those events.

This was a different situation for her. To my knowledge, she has never had to deal with a classmate with cancer, maybe perhaps a parent of one of her classmates. This co-worker, an adult, is someone she has known for two seasons now. Clearly, my daughter is concerned for her, someone she knows personally, likely the first time (besides her grandfather which she does not remember him dealing with cancer), it is happening right now. Her co-worker is in the middle of treatments. For my daughter, there is an awkwardness, afraid of what to say.

I was trained as a cancer counselor decades ago. But the comfort I wanted to give to my daughter had nothing to do counseling, but rather assurance, as a former co-worker myself, and what it could mean to her co-worker, to know that my daughter cared.

I explained one of my biggest frustrations, working while I was going through my treatments, and actually many of my later health crisis, was petty and jealous behaviors exhibited by many of my co-workers. What? How could anyone be jealous of someone having cancer? No, it is not the actual disease that fellow workers are jealous of, but rather the perceived favors and privileges they assume are given to the employee, and that is simply just not fair. I recall defending myself constantly that no such favoritism was occurring, to no avail. Those co-workers just “knew” something had to be going on.

The fact was, the only work I missed, was a half hour in the morning at the beginning of the work day, to get my radiation treatment for thirty days, and the last two hours of two Fridays per month, to get my chemotherapy, and I was right into work after. I completed my work tasks without missing a beat. So, I am not sure where people thought I was getting special treatment from management. But their behavior took a toll on me, because I thought of many of these people as my friends. I thought they cared. Clearly they did not.

And that is the conversation I had with my daughter tonight, about this particular part of my cancer experience, and what it could mean to her co-worker, to be treated with respect, and more importantly, empathy and understanding. My daughter definitely knows dealing with cancer is difficult, and now she knows there may be times when her co-worker is not feeling well, or might need help with something. I have stressed to my daughter, that she does not need to have conversations with her fellow worker about the cancer, unless she is approached. However, if she sees her co-worker struggling or having a bad day, I told her at that point, she should offer assistance with the task or assignment. But never, NEVER, belittle, disrespect, or mock her co-worker and her situation. I explained to my daughter, it would likely mean the world to her co-worker, that she was working with someone who really cared.

It is the final gesture, that is not only expected of either of my daughters, but makes me proud nonetheless, because her actions are just natural to her. It is who she is, who she was raised to be. My daughter wanted me to get a mask for her to wear for herself, as she and her co-worker, work in a confined area. And though my daughter is fully boosted, as recent as last week, she understands the value and importance of protecting her co-worker from not only Covid, but any potential delay in her treatment course. Neither her co-worker or her supervisor have asked my daughter to do this. It is just something my daughter feels is the right thing to do, and ultimately, it does her no harm, and it might just help to keep her fellow employee safe.

The final comment I made to my daughter, with my older daughter sitting at the kitchen table, this, is one of those moments I have always talked about, building character and reputation. This will not only go on remembered by her co-worker, her supervisor, but will continue to fortify the heart and goodwill of someone truly special. And I am not just saying that because I am her Dad.

The Perfect Gift… For Me Anyway


I do not remember the topic of “gifts for Dad” being discussed on the news so much as I have in the last 24 hours. Reporters interviewing passersby getting responses such as the cliche “ties” or “coffee mugs.” I have always made it real easy for my daughters when it comes to gifts for me, regardless if my birthday, Christmas, or Father’s Day. All I really want is time with them. Time is the most precious and personal gift anyone can give. And for anyone who is not able to celebrate Father’s Day with their Dad, like me, we always wish that we had more time with him.

During my daughters younger years, there were plenty of purchased Father’s Day gifts. But the gifts that I always treasured, and still have to this day, are the school projects that they made themselves, perfectly timed to be done before school ended for the year.

But halfway through their childhood, that is when “time” became the most important gift they could give me. I had filed for divorce, and that meant that material things no longer mattered to me. As per the custody order, yes, that had to be specified, I would get to see them on Father’s Day weekend. Time. I did not need anything material, though that still did not stop thoughtful gifts from coming in over the years. Like I said, I have all their “gifts” they made me in school, but it is a 500 photo album that I received last year, and filled to capacity, that still brings me joy, being able to look back over the past nineteen years.

And now, as they both have their 2023-2024 collegiate year planned out, which does mean that I will have less opportunities to spend with them, albeit this is only temporary while they are in college, it makes “time” with them even more special and important. This morning, they are both on an early flight down to spend the week with me, as has been the custom for the last many years. It will be a fast week, and fast paced, as there is a lot to do, both fun, and the typical “work”, now making sure they are as prepared for adult things that need to be dealt with.

The greatest joy I get, or gift I receive, is watching my daughters laugh, share, and work with each other, loving each other. This is truly a gift, and all that I could possibly ask for on Father’s Day.

Remembering Dad This Weekend


Many will spend this weekend, having an opportunity to spend Father’s Day with their Dads and Grandfathers. Some will not for any number of reasons, whether it be a matter of circumstance such as location (living too far away), domestic situations such as custody orders, and those whose Fathers are no longer with us.

This is Billy Joe Armstrong, of the rock band Green Day, one of my favorite bands. A popular hit, “Wake Me Up When September Ends” was a song that Armstrong wrote for his Father who had passed away from esophageal cancer when Armstrong was just ten years old. He carried the grief of his Father over twenty years when he finally penned the lyrics and recorded one of the major hits of the “American Idiot” album. I only recently learned of this explanation, and have a new profound respect for the singer and the song.

If there is one thing that I could have considered one of my biggest fears, that was leaving my daughters behind in my death with them at such a young age. My daughters had already been witness to so many other kids their age, who suffered the imaginable loss of a Father or Mother, too young to understand why, just that they were never coming back. There are three families that come to mind immediately for me, specifically who lost their Fathers due to either an illness or fatal event.

I was petrified back in April of 2008 when I underwent emergency heart surgery for a condition known as a “widow maker,” for the obvious reason, that if you suffered a heart attack due to this condition, you were fairly likely to die. Caused by my treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma eighteen years earlier, this situation caught me completely off guard. Not only that, but as my cardiologist explained at my first follow up from the surgery, “it was not a question if you were going to die, but when.” Considering that I had been dealing with noticeable symptoms for months prior to the surgery, no one needs to explain just how dire this was.

But with this only being the first of many health crisis I would face that were considered life and death, and remembering the family friends of my daughters and their losses, I never wanted them to hear those words, “your Father passed away.”

Losing a parent does not get any easier, as an adult child either.

When my Father passed away from complications of lung cancer, we could not have been any closer with each other. The loss of my childhood from my Father and divorce, long forgotten, our relationship grew as adult Father and son, and more importantly, getting to watch him with his granddaughters. Prior to his diagnosis, we really had grown much closer together. He had become not only my Dad again, but also one of my most trusted confidantes. My Dad passed away nine years ago, and much like Armstrong, I still miss my Dad all these years later.

As I said, there are other circumstances that can make Father’s Day difficult. Divorce, separation, or any other form of domestic conflict. Some Fathers are actually kept from their children, legally and illegally. In a form of child abuse, there are cases where children are actually encouraged to shun or dislike their fathers in what is called “parental alienation,” often times for nothing more than petty vengeance of the other parent. And then there is what I can only call the despicable, the Fathers who want nothing to do with their children. I will never understand a parent that can just walk away and forget.

Then there is the unthinkable, a Father having to get through Father’s Day, with the loss of a child. Whether it be because of an illness such as cancer, a tragic accident, or as today, an all too frequent occurrence, gun violence, it is unimaginable what it takes a Father to get through this day.

Father’s Day is a day to celebrate, to be grateful for one half of your parental unit, whether alive or passed on. And if you are a parent, it is a day to hopefully celebrate with their child or children, who naturally love their Dad. If there is one thing I convey to my daughters, I do not care about Christmas or any other holiday with them, as much as I care about this one time of year, my day, Father’s Day.

And if you are one of the many parents who do find it hard to celebrate Father’s Day, for any reason, please know that I am keeping you in my thoughts, that either your grief or situation improve, so that either memories can restore joy, or being present again in each other’s lives is made possible as it naturally was meant to be.

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