Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Adoption”

Running Out Of Summer Memories


I have a lot more Summers behind me, than I have ahead of me. Memories that I have of Summers in my youth are only slightly more than the photos I have as pictured above, not many of those either. I recall this little hard plastic shell pool, filled up with garden hose water. Once school age, I graduated to the town swimming pool, eventually learning to swim and jump off the high diving board (and learn the hard way what a “belly flop” was).

(picture from Google pics)

The other frequent activity during the Summer was the weekly trip to Shankweiler’s Drive-in to see a double-feature movie. Since it is likely that noone after Gen-X has any idea what this was like, allow me to describe it. You park your car in front of a giant movie screen. There were likely two movies being shown; a younger age-appropriate movie, then a movie for the older crowds, the first starting once it was dark enough. You hung a two pound speaker on your car window for everyone in the car to hear the sound, or as others did, simply set up lawn chairs or sat on the back of a pick-up or station wagon. In between the movies, there was a rush to the bathrooms, the refreshment stand, and to the playground directly below the screen. You were a real boss if you stayed awake for the entire second movie, and had enough mosquito bites to “connect the dots” with a Sharpie.

Toward the end of my youth, my Summers were spent working. One of the best seasonal jobs for teens was a local amusement park. I spent a lot of visits at Dorney Park as a child, and it was a totally different experience operating the games and rides. But still, I had so many memories. I just do not have a lot of photos.

There would be even less photos in my twenties, as my life was interrupted by a cancer diagnosis, Hodgkin’s Lympoma. There was no social media or internet at the time, so there was no desire or behavior to take pictures. There were two weddings over the next decade and a half, but as they both ended in divorce, those are pictures that won’t get posted. Besides, other than the weddings, my Summers were spent working, especially overtime, no need for pictures of that.

But with parenthood, came a new approach to Summers, and a lot more photos, much to my daughters chagrines. For the last twenty years, although I had worked many hours during the first ten years, my memories are as clear as the photos that I put together in photo album number one (500 photos).

We took trips to the beach, travelled to various places. I even pulled off the ultimate trip, to a “super Con”, where my daughters got to meet some of their favorite Manga characters. It should be noted, I also got to meet some celebrities in attendance as well, such as the original Karate Kid, Ralph Machio, pro Wrestler, Jerry Lawler, and the one and only Incredible Hulk, Lou Ferrigno.

But as much fun as I could pack into the two months of Summer break for my daughters, there was one thing I felt was important to be done, every Summer. It was not fun, well, not really, but necessary. In full transparency, I did not have a lot of support with school, just a reaction when I would flash my report card (again, for millenials and Gen-Z, these were paper copies of the grades that were sent home each marking period). I really had no role model for how to parent my children during the Summer breaks. But as my daughters were both good and hard working students, my fear would be during the Summer, if there were not some sort of learning exercises, even just fifteen minutes per day, that could lead to some habits making it hard to get back into the groove once the Fall rolled around.

Each year during the Summer, every day, usually during the time I would be getting ready for us to go out, I had my daughters complete a few worksheets of exercises from reading to math and other learning opportunities. It wasn’t tedious or boring. Most importantly, it kept them in the habit of “learning.”

Those workbooks stopped being a “thing” around the beginning of middle school. And as my daughters got older, while we enjoyed our Summers with each other, I felt it became more important for me to start sharing things that they would need to learn as they got older, to prepare them for adulthood. Again, not having the typical examples set for me to learn responsibility, I had in my head things that I felt were important for them to learn, such as learning to save money, budget, and prioritize needs and wants. I wanted to make sure that as they came of dating age, that they “took care of themselves” from a hygiene point of view and more importantly, what to expect of anyone interested in having a relationship with them. I wanted them to learn money management, responsibility, and decision making. I took opportunities to have them learn first aid, visit historical museums, and volunteer visiting animals in shelters.

There are no bigger opportunities for decision making than they have as adults now. With the custody order officially closed due to both aging out, they alone are now the ones who make the decisions to visit me here in Florida. They know they constant reference to “Cats In The Cradle” by Harry Chapin, and were are now at the point of their college tenure, balanced with working during breaks, and spending time with the tri-fecta package of mother/father/friends with any available time. I have made it clear, as I have warned them that their “free” time was going to be even less these days, and I know that time would have to be shared in many directions. I asked both only one thing, something that has really become a tradition, and emphasized to them even more important than spending holidays, if at all possible, all efforts made to spend Father’s Day with each other, as we have done every year (with the exception of two years that were beyond my control and will not be discussed in this post). It is just now, instead of spending most of the Summer following the weekend of Father’s Day with me, I have taken as much pressure off of them, and asked only a few days of that holiday weekend. Any other time of the year, we will make arrangements as we can, based on schedules, and likely even split between both my daughters as their schedules will not always align.

But there is one final thing that I did need to discuss with my “now adult” daughters, while I had them in front of me, not to be discussed over the phone or by text messaging. My daughters are aware of my health history, part of which they have read about in my book, “Paul’s Heart – Life As A Dad And A 35-Year Cancer Survivor” and my history with cancer, but it has been the second half of their life, that they have personally witnessed the many episodes of ill health I have faced due to the treatments from my cancer. For years, they have been told by many close to them, that I was “fine,” in clear contrast to what they were being told by me. In recent years, and even in spite of Covid19 policies, through Facetime, my daughters were able to be with me during my 3rd heart surgery, to replace my aortic valve. My daughters know my health is far from “fine,” and those who try to convince my daughters otherwise in an attempt to portray me to their advantage are only hurting their relationships with my daughters.

My daughters know I have legal documents in place as to my “living directives,” what will happen to me, should I be unable to decide my medical care for myself, but my wishes stated in writing and certified. But there was one thing I needed to discuss with them. A recent visit and CT scan, has led to a new level of an old concern that I have been aware of for sixteen years. There is a new term being used in the results of that scan, besides the characteristics continuing to have changed, “adenocarcinoma” (cancer) is now being mentioned in my report on my one lung. Though the circumstances behind their grandfather dying from lung cancer (a smoker), and a nodule on my lung (likely from radiation treatments 35 years ago), I wanted to have the discussion with them in person so that they could see, that currently, adenocarcinoma is just a word being used, and the type, unlike my father’s cancer, is a slow enough developing cancer, that it is quite possible nothing may be done with it, that my mortality would have an end due to a different issue before this cancer would have any impact. But my daughters would hear everything from me, not what “others” wanted to tell them.

Sure, hearing the word “cancer” is scary whether you are the patient, family, or friend. I knew of this news for a couple of months, trying to figure how I would discuss this with my daughters, knowing that hearing “lung cancer” would detour their thoughts to their grandfather. My situation is completely different, and right now, manageable.

No, not the way I had planned our last Summer together of the final phase of their childhoods, but I definitely feel a lot better knowing the heads that they have on their shoulders are more thoughtful, empathetic, and definitely have learned that the things they are doing today, are going to lead to opportunities tomorrow.

All too often, non-custodial parents, usually fathers, are referred to as “Disney Dads,” a really bad stereotype, implying that since the parent is allowed only minimal time with their child, it is always spent doing “fun” things like going to amusement parks, or the beach, not doing any of the hard stuff. Not only did I find this term offensive when I first heard it, I fought any attempt and opportunity to level that claim at me. The truth is, to this day, regardless of how much time I get to spend with my daughters, and in the future with my daughters, I have not changed. I am still about memories and lessons as I know they are not far away from the next phases of their lives, serious relationships and personal responisibilities. They will hit the ground running once they graduate college and hopefully secure good jobs, remember the things that I taught them, and then live their own “cats in the cradle” lives. My second photo album of 500 photos has already begun being filled, and will hopefully include more faces in the future.

Happy Father’s Day


I consider Father’s Day to be the most important day to me, bigger than all of the others. To me, there is no more important responsibility or title that I can have in my life, than being a “Dad.” And I have been blessed twice. It is not something that I take for granted. A father/child relationship is best described as an hourglass, with sand running through much too quickly, until the sand has all run out. The path to fatherhood begins differently for everyone but there is not greater feeling than when a child is placed in your arms for the first time.

And while the first half of my daughters lives were pretty much “Norman Rockwell paintings” doing normal things that families do from school activities to extracurricular, my divorce put a stronger emphasis on Father’s Day for me, making sure that this one day, above all other days including Christmas and birthdays, was my day to celebrate with my daughters.

There has been no greater honor than to be one of my daughters two main role models. As adults now, there are no more crayons, reading books, or watching Barbie videos. Now the real pressure of fatherhood is on, to make sure they know about insurances, major expenses, career decisions, time management, and of course relationships. I always thought that I would be the one to have the trouble with this progression, and to a degree I do, but it was my younger daughter who had a “Cat’s In The Cradle” moment, when she expressed her fears that, now in college, and in her future, she would not see me as often, which is likely. But just as I got by during my divorce, not being with them every day, technology via Facetime and Skype, I could see them and talk to them any time I wanted or needed to.

Those who know me, know that my daughters are my world. With all of the health issues that I deal with in my survivorship, my daughters are my driving force, to keep fighting. They both have friends who have lost their fathers for one reason or another, and I do not want them to ever have to feel that pain. And while I know that I am mortal and have no control over fate, my love and strength for my daughters is what gets me through every day.

But as much as I celebrate today, I and many others also recognize loss, fathers not able to see their children, or worse, children not able or even willing to see their fathers. As an adult child of divorce, I have experienced this pain. And it is my hope that some day, just as in my case, amends can be made and bring the fathers and their children back together.

I miss my father. It has been ten years now that he has been gone. He got to watch his granddaughters grow in their early years, but how do I wish he could see who they have become. I wish I could tell him, that I had his strength when it came to always fight for my rights as the father of my daughters. I never gave up.

To those who are able to celebrate this day, Happy Father’s Day. And for those who have just memories, may those memories provide you comfort on this day.

The Mind Of A Cancer Survivor


This post has been sitting in my head for quite some time now. It became impossible to sit on any longer, though I needed to hold out one more day. Yesterday was my oldest daughter’s 21st birthday, and I wanted yesterday to be her day. Because yesterday was all about her milestone, not mine.

Yes, with my oldest daughter turning twenty-one years old, that is another milestone of mine, as a cancer survivor, that I have reached, that I really never thought I would see the day. But as happy as I was for my daughter, there have been so many thoughts running through my head, that I cannot control, just how lucky I truly am, to have reached another milestone, of many already reached.

The meme pictured above came across my feed today, and the timing and the wording could not be more perfectly said. Over the years, I have made reference to “survivor guilt,” which many mistake me for feeling guilty that I survived cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is the guilt of why others have not been as fortunate as me. Please understand, and I am going to shout it, “I AM SO GRATEFUL THAT I AM STILL HERE AND THERE IS SO MUCH MORE THAT I WANT TO DO AND EXPERIENCE!” But my guilt and sorrow is for those who never got out of remission, developed other complications or other cancers and passed away, and other survivors whose bodies simply could take no more.

As the second part of the meme states, “Holy Shit!” every day is a reminder what could be gone tomorrow. And as my daughter celebrated her 21st birthday, actually her second birthday outside of the US, she was celebrating with friends and I could not be more happy for her. I celebrated her birthday going through old photos of her, her younger sister, and myself.

You see, neither of my daughters were around when I battled my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It would be more than a decade before I would even get my chance at parenthood. But being in long term remission, I really did not consider parenthood a milestone. I was done with cancer. I was “over it” as many people wanted me to move on with my life after cancer.

But four years after my oldest daughter was adopted, and two years after my younger daughter was adopted, my world of cancer survivorship, eighteen years after that I thought I was done with cancer because the doctors even told me so, my cancer past came crashing to the present. I was dying. I was not aware of that, but following the emergency double bypass I had to have for “widow maker” damage to my heart, with a blockage of 90% of the LAD (left anterior descending artery), my cardiologist put it bluntly after the surgery, “it was not a question if, but when” I was going to die.

There it was, the first event that nearly took my life from my daughters. I will recognize that day next month, sixteen years ago. So my heart got fixed, that should be the end of the story, right? Unfortunately not. You see, what my oncologist (cancer doctor) was unaware of back in 1995 (my five year milestone Hodgkin’s-free), that the radiation therapy and chemotherapies that I underwent, had the potential to cause progressive and lethal situations. It turns out the scientists knew about it. They just never passed it on to the doctors.

But nearly four years later, I was carried out of my house on an ambulance stretcher at 3am, again, dying. I had developed sepsis, a fatal infection. I was unaware of what was happening, felt fine even as I went to bed that night. I had developed something called “aspiration pneumonia”, which without getting too technical, was caused by me unknowingly inhaling gastrointestinal “stuff” into my lungs while I was asleep (another complication due to radiation). Sepsis had developed, and without the correct and fast treatment, I would have died. Again, this is where the story should have ended, but it did not.

I had another round of aspiration pneumonia nine months later. All the while, remember me mentioning about the “progressive” side effects from my treatments? They were still doing their things. But here is the kicker. Because of the risks of doing anything to correct any other issue being more risky than doing nothing, the situations needed to be as dire as the other events I had gone through. I had to hear the words “severe” for any issue to get corrected. I often refer to my body as a human ticking time bomb. The good thing is, I have been watched by many doctors, participating in a “survivorship clinic” setting. This is where doctors exist that “get it” when it comes to following up the needs of cancer survivors that too many other doctors still do not get. So all these different doctors that “watch” me decide when it is time to do something, in other words, yep, death or some other serious issue is impending.

Case in point, 2019, I needed to have the RCA (right coronary artery) stented, because back when my bypass was done, that cardiologist felt the RCA would get better on its own. It did not. Then in 2020, my left carotid artery had finally reached “severe” status, scorched by radiation damage as well, and the risk of a stroke was now a reality if not corrected. Next, in 2021, my aortic valve had reached a “severe” status from the calcifications from radiation damage needing to be replaced.

Is there more? You betcha! But you get the idea now how the second part of that meme plays out. And the truth of the matter is, any of the events that I mentioned, or any of the many that I did not mention, any of those could have led to me missing what I consider some of the most important milestones of my life, in my daughters lives. And for sixteen years, that is what both of my daughters have known. It has become a “given” by my daughters, that any health challenge I face, I will get through it, because that is all that they know.

But I know something that they do not. Time is not my friend. You see, all of the things that I have had corrected, because the progressive issues from my treatments are still at work, will need to be redone again some day, and possibly some other new issues develop, because they have had time to do so. The question is, will my body handle second attempts or the new things that develop. For some of my survivors who faced similar situations, their bodies could take no more. And for some, they were not even aware of anything when their survivorship came to an end. With my daughters still so young, they have not been introduced to that stage of my survivorship yet. But that time is soon coming.

Look, I know this post is probably one of the heaviest posts anyone has read from me in a long time. As my daughter was celebrating twenty-one years, I could not help but, because my brain betrayed me that way, reflect on the many things that almost kept me from seeing their school graduations, birthday milestones, and so much more.

I will leave you with this. I really am a positive minded person. It is a disservice to me as a friend to tell me to “just get over it,” or “just be positive” because my body and my cancer survivorship dictates otherwise. But I do go to bed each night, expecting to wake up the next morning, and do the things I have planned tomorrow. And there are many more tomorrows that I want, college graduations, weddings, grandchildren, so that means I will continue to let the doctors do what they need to help me reach those further milestones. But ultimately, I have no say in tomorrows. I have learned that from other fallen survivors.

Yes, I am grateful for surviving Hodgkin’s Lymphoma thirty-five years. I am grateful having survived all of the medical side effects that I have faced. But I also realize, that at any moment, as I am constantly reminded, I could also miss the next milestone. This is what cancer survivorship is to me. I am making the most of my years as I can.

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