Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Adoption”

Getting Ready For Halloween


Is it any wonder I enjoy Halloween?  As I watch everyone preparing for next Saturday, decorating their homes, some very anxious children too excited to wait to wear their costumes that they must wear them outside to play, I enjoy the memories that pop into my head.

No, not my Halloween as a child, or even pre-parenthood.  I did my share of Halloween hijinks and trick-or-treating, and watched my share of horror movies (they just don’t make them like they used to).

Nothing beats Halloween as a parent.  Sure, I looked forward to decorating the house.  I even had a Halloween tree (a long story that I don’t want to talk about).  But to me, I got so much joy out of the experience of Halloween, through the eyes of my daughters.

Our first trick-or-treat experience was quite interesting, amusing, and from the “official candy taste tester” position of Dad, frustrating and disappointing.  It was our first night out trick-or-treating that I learned something not common with a child, she did not like chocolate.  And she had no problem making that fact known, quite bluntly in fact.

“TRICK OR TREAT!”  The unsuspecting neighbor reached into their tray, and grabbed a few Kit-Kat miniatures, which the taste-tester definitely approved of, and dropped them into my daughter’s plastic pumpkin she was using to collect her Halloween bounty.

And then my daughter reached into her pumpkin, and proceeded to pull all of the pieces that were just dropped in, back out, and handed them back to the neighbor.  “I don’t eat chocolate.”  I, the official taste-tester was shocked, either between this was the first that I became aware of this fact, or that I just lost out on a tasty treat.  I looked up at my neighbor, both of us not knowing how to respond, and then my daughter said “thank you” and turned and walk away.  She did not even ask for anything else.

Another tradition I enjoyed with my daughters, was one that I had experienced as a kid, the local Halloween parade.  Unfortunately, it has been cancelled this year due to Covid, but prior to that, my daughters went to nearly every one.

Coincidental or not, the last time I would get to trick-or-treat with my daughters, produced another shocking event for the official taste-taster.  Our direct neighbor was notorious for giving out “king size” treats.  As the door opened, and “trick or treat” was called out, what did my eyes see?  A king sized Hershey bar!  Next to sharing a beer with the neighbors in the back yard, this was the best thing I could ever welcome into my home.  There was one problem, and the taste tester was not pleased.

It was one thing for one of my daughters not to like chocolate, but with my neighbor, kids were given a choice.  NO!!!  Extra large DumDum lollipops, which my older daughter picked between the two choices, and her younger sister, admiring her older sibling always, followed in suit.  NO!!!

From that point on, I was relegated to answering doors, no longer to be tempted.

So, now is a downtime as they have grown too old for the festivities of Halloween, and I wait.  I wait for the next generation of my trick-or-treaters.  Until then, I just enjoy all of the wonderful memories my daughters have given me during this time of year.

Friend Or Parent?


Chances are likely, that a parent with at least one young child, has walked by, or tried to avoid walking by, a dreaded claw machine.  Children’s eyes light up with how simple it must be to win, because the prizes are all just sitting there, waiting to be plucked from the pile.  As parents, we know the game is usually rigged, those cute and cuddly toys packed tighter than a size 9 foot into a size 6 shoe.

Only one of my daughters was fascinated by the game, then determined.  That is when I made the situation worse.  That is when I earned the nickname from her, “the ‘no’ Daddy.”

Neither of my daughters have been want for anything.  I also made sure that I never crossed the line to spoiling them.  I can honestly say, I never dealt with one temper tantrum, in public or at home.  And here is how I did it.

As I said, if my daughters needed something, they got it.  If they wanted it, and neither their birthdays or Christmas was around, there is a 95% chance that they were told “no,” hence the nickname.  And it really had nothing to do with being strict or preventing tantrums as much as it was about not wanting to disappoint them.

My philosophy was simple.  I would rather surprise them with a “yes,” than disappoint them with a “no.”  And there would come a time eventually, that this would become important.  Between the economic crash of 2008, as well as the crash of my health from late effects from my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma treatments, financially things got tight.

But my daughter was persistent with this claw game machine.  Every time we went grocery shopping, I knew that a request to play the game was coming.  If pushed, I would offer some excuses as to why “no” was my response.  I might not have had a dollar bill on me, or my favorite, I would just say the machine was broken.

On one fateful day, my daughter witnessed someone playing the claw machine.  So, I could not say the machine was broken.  And she avoided having to ask me for a dollar because she just so happened to have a dollar bill that was given to her previously by one of her grandparents.  Despite having the advantage, she still held herself respectfully and approached me for permission to give it a shot.  I was in no position for my patented “no.”

And then it happened.

A scream followed by a very proud expression by my daughter.  She was silent and cerebral in what could have possibly been her one and only attempt at victory.  And she not only came out with one prize, but had positioned the claw perfectly, and had grabbed two at the same time.  The claw smoothly slid over to the chute, and then dropped the two toys in, and with a prize held in each hand, she turned to me with the biggest smile a child could ever have.  “You see Daddy!  The machine’s not broken.  And I not only won one prize!  I WON TWO!”

Her victory did not change her behavior when it came to asking for anything, well, except for a kitten, but that is another story.

Like I said, I am so happy I did not have to deal with tantrums.  I know before I got married, heck, even dating, I knew that tantrums were one thing I wanted to avoid.  Toy stores, shopping, the candy aisles, even amusement parks, neither daughter ever threw a tantrum with me.

It was not just the “fun” times or things either.  From the moment both were placed in my arms, every day was about teaching them, setting an example for them.  Just as with “things,” neither gave me a difficult time when it came to schoolwork.  I took advantage of the earlier grades of being not only being able to help with schoolwork, but understand it.  Homework and studying was always a priority, whether we were at home, or on a vacation.  If there was an assignment that did not get done before we left, it came with us.

Even today, my daughters in high school, during my custodial periods, which vary in length, if there is homework to be done, or a test to be studied, I make sure that they have the time to do so.  At this point in their education, and their subjects, they are well beyond any help I can offer with the exception of some proofreading opportunities.

Our current family arrangement has been in place now for several years.  We live quite a distance from each other.  And as is often the case of a non-custodial parent, and I want to be clear (for my trolls), I have never been called the following, “a Disney parent”, a reference to a parent who’s custodial time is only about having good times, while it is assumed the parent with the primary custody “does all the hard stuff.”

I have dreaded the first time I would have ever heard that reference directed at me.  As a divorced father, I have made sure to stay involved with my daughters lives, as much as teenagers will allow.  Circumstances are much different than they were many years ago when we were a whole family.  But my daughters know that my marital status has not changed who I am, and what they mean to me.

And as they head around the final turn of their childhood, things still have not changed for us, just the issues.  Course selection in school has become important.  Extra curricular activities are now a part of building who they are.  And gasp… boys are being mentioned in the singular tense when it comes to activities.

My daughters have often heard me say, “I am your father before I am your friend.”  I have told them I want to make sure they are as prepared as I can make them for their adult lives.  And once they have taken over their adult lives, then we can add friendship to our relationships.

They know times like today are difficult.  They understand when I have to make hard decisions.  And honestly, they are both blessed with good health, so that theory has never really been tested.  I have no problems handling the small stuff.

In the beginning of the Covid19 crisis, I had some difficult decisions to make, to protect my daughters, and to protect me.  The reality that their childhood is winding down, time I can never get back if I am to have to miss something, hits me hard in the stomach.  But with no idea how to handle the virus, what to expect, and the risks people would take, we did miss time with each other.

As time has gone on, and we learn to go through day after day, with Covid19 all around us, we all have adjusted, including school, which has continued on.  Sadly, for the graduation class of 2020, they lost a lot.  And I am hoping that by 2022, Covid19 will be just a horrible chapter in our history books.

But even as we have learned to take precautions to protect ourselves, whether it be individually or as a business, we still must be smart and follow the recommendations.  I would love to carry on with activities as we have with all of our other times together, but right now, that is just not possible.  And that is the hard part of being a parent now.  It is no longer about tantrums, it is about safety for them, and safety for others.

These are just some of the things that have been a priority for me as a parent.  There will come a time, just as I did with my father, that we will sit down, and share stories and memories, have some laughs.  Right now, I still have more work to do.  College is right around the corner.

The Toughest Part Of My Heart Surgery


A post from a fellow Hodgkin’s Lymphoma survivor triggered an emotional flashback for me recently.  A young parent themselves, one of their main concerns, is for their young children, and this will be the first time that this friend will be apart from their children for any amount of time.  Even more relatable, are two main factors, this fellow survivor is having open heart surgery, and their children are the same ages as my daughters were back in 2008.

My daughters were three and five years old, and had never been apart from me.  I went from just telling them, I had to go stay overnight somewhere for something special, but would see them the next day, to the horror 24 hours later of thinking I would never see them again.

A blockage had been discovered that was believed correctable with a simple stent being placed.  I would be up and going in just a week, an overnight stay in the hospital.  No big deal.  I was still coming out of the anesthesia that day, when the doctor was informing my family, my situation was more grave than thought, and instead I would need to have open heart surgery the next morning.  You can read the story “CABG – Not Just A Green Leafy Vegetable” for that whole situation.

But as I came out of the fog from the anesthesia, and began to understand the severity of what I was facing, there was even a more daunting concern for me.  If anything bad happened to me during this surgery, I never got to see or hold my daughters again, especially before the surgery.

I am a firm believer in not discussing things with children that are not age appropriate, and this was something that was not going to be discussed with them in great detail.  But that did not make my heartbreak any less.  Even if the surgery was successful, I would be in the hospital, expected to be about a week in length.  I had never been apart from them at all, even until the day before for the stent process.  I got to talk to them on the telephone that night before, and that was going to have to be good enough.  In less than eight hours, I would be taken down to the operating room.

Three days following the surgery, out of the ICU and in a private room, I still had some tubes and wires, but not nearly as many as when I first came out of the surgery.  At that point, it was decided to bring my daughters to visit me, a surprise visit, because they were all I could think about.  My older daughter was curious about all the equipment that I was hooked up to.  And the joke, er… concern, was that she would not do to me what she did to her mechanical horse Butterscotch, when we were not looking and she started pulling the horse’s wiring apart.  My younger daughter on the other hand, sat on the foot of my bed.  This was the first either of them had seen me in this type of condition, and clearly she was scared.

The picture above, was taken a couple days after we got home, no worse for the wear.  In fact, my younger daughter had resumed her playfulness with me, forgetting the fragile area of my chest, starting from across the room, running full tilt at me, unsuspecting, planting her head into my chest like a battering ram.  That was when that “heart” pillow came in handy besides my coughs and sneezes.

My daughters would witness another event, just as severe, and probably more scary, because they watched it happen in real time.  After just celebrating my older daughter’s birthday  that day, an ambulance crew was rolling me out of our house on a stretcher, again facing a dire situation, septic shock, due to a specific type of bacterial pneumonia I was unaware that I had.  One of the only memories I have of that early 4am event, was the look on my daughters faces as I was rolled by.

As I talked to my fellow survivor, one of the things I wanted to do, as I do with others in our situation, is to share our experiences, as to offer some sort of comfort to the stressful event soon to take place.  I encouraged her to focus on the surgery.

I had spoken with both of my daughters this evening, to gather their perspective on what happened those two time periods, the second time period they were five and seven years older.  Neither really remembers anything from my heart surgery.  And all either of them really remember of the second episode, was all the policemen and paramedics in the house.  It was never a thought to them that I would not come back home, though it was unusual for me not to be home.

For the second time, I had been apart from my daughters.  And this would happen again several times.  It never got easier.  Just as my fellow survivor feels I am sure, our children mean everything to us.  Fortunately they were at an age, where they really did not need to know or understand how serious everything was.  All that mattered to me, was that they knew I would come home.  And with every time something happened, this was how I handled it.  Each time, they believed I would come home.

Late in their teenage years now, they are learning more about my health history, and the origin, my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and the treatments used to save my life.  They can handle the details as I have given them in small amounts, and not in vivid detail.  As adults, they will learn the seriousness of the things I face, because as they will be my medical proxies, it will be important that they know all the details.

My daughters do not recall anything from my heart surgery, and have very few memories of the second event.  And I am glad for that.  They have witnessed enough with me in the hospital.  They know my situation is serious.

More importantly, they know that they are the reason that I keep fighting when faced with these challenges.  My divorce has caused quite a bit of separation, and while I do miss every moment I wish I could have with them, it pales in comparison to the emotional pain I felt back in 2008 when I thought I would never see them again.

Yet, here I am.  Another year closer to seeing them graduate, hopefully go to college, and perhaps start a family of their own.  Something back in 2008, I never thought I would see.

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