Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Cancer”

A Rough Day (Again)


I do not hide it.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I will admit to being calm, cool, and collected in times of crisis, and it is extremely rare that an emotion will be seen from me.  Whether I am sad, angry, happy, intrigued, disgusted, trust me, I will let you know.

As a cancer survivor and cardiac patient, I have an appreciation for all things concerned with the world of medicine.  I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television, but experience has taught me so much.  In all honesty, I should probably go back to college, and get a medical degree.  I cannot say with certainty as I was never a medical student, but one thing that cannot be taught is empathy.  But it is both my empathy and my experience right now that cause me to have a heavy heart, broken if you will.

For the second time in several years, I found myself in a situation of not just a caregiver, but also clinician.  For the second time, I was able to diagnose and issue that had been overlooked, or willingly ingnored.  Because of the empathy and care that I gave, I do not believe there was suffering, but the ending was still so hard to take.  I spent so much time, so much care, so much attention.  And I know it made a difference.  I could see it every day with improvement, EVERY DAY.

Then I am told to stop what I am doing, that it is not right.  It could cause problems with outside officials.  But the problem is, I was never told.  Not that it would make a difference to me though I would walk right up to the line of insubordination, I would never cross it.  The judgement from keeping me perform my job to the best of my ability and humanity would then fall on the individual enforcing this unfortunate political move.  But they had been given too much credibility because of where each of us rank in society.  I know this for a fact.

So to keep from being punished, which has never been an issue at home or school as a child, nor as an adult, I had to immediately cease my efforts, which still would not provide a certainty that I would not be punished.

Today, I lost him.  He is in a better place.  Everyone knew this day would come.  All I tried to do, and succeeded, was make it better for him.  And simply because someone above me did not like it, he lost that quality of care the last couple of days of his life.

This sucks.

The Waiting


Christmas Eve = the longest night in the world for me as a child, waiting for Santa Claus to come.

The night before Easter = the second longest night for me as a child, same reason as above, just for the Easter Bunny with my basket of chocolate.

The first day of school… ever.

Getting a drivers license… forever.

The end of school… forever.

Freedom to do what I want to do, whenever I want to do it.  I am still waiting.

Having to wait around the doctor’s office, just to be told that you have cancer.

Waiting to hear the words, “Your cancer is in remission.”

Waiting to reach the one year anniversary of your remission of cancer, and second year, fifth year, tenth year, twentieth year.

Now I am waiting to reach twenty-five years cured of my cancer.

Waiting for the paint to dry and the pot to boil.

Waiting to be approved to be adoptive parents.

Waiting for the sixteen hour non-stop flight to be over.

We can hear the children down the hallway.  What is taking so long to bring them to the conference room to be placed in our arms.

Waiting for daughter’s first steps.

Waiting in a dazed state to go to surgery for my first ever open heart surgery.

I hate sitting at home doing nothing.  I want to go back to work.  I still need time to heal.

Waiting for the new season of Newsroom on HBO.

My DVR has a pause button.  I can make the television wait for me.

Phone calls.  Can you hold please?

I have to wait several months to see a specialist.  They know what is wrong and time is of importance for best chance of survival.  A three month wait.

Waiting in the waiting room.  Then I wait so more in the exam room.

Scans and scopes, scans and scopes, scans and scopes.  Results pending.  More waiting.

I do not mind waiting for my daughters to grow up, graduate, get married, have children.

Bravery


Bravery is defined in Merriam-Webster as courage.

I decided to look this up today.  A co-worker was having a conversation with me, coming to find out everything that I had been going through in just the last several weeks.  And his comment to me was, “You’re really brave.”  And I looked at him like I was almost hoping for a hint of sarcasm or even some foolery.  But for once, he meant it.  And then he repeated it, “You are brave.”

The first time I heard it, I was uneasy.  I was hoping the conversation would end, but when he said it the second time, I knew that I had to deal with it.

In my life, I am hard pressed to find even one instance in my life where I could be defined as brave.  I have never fought in any armed service.  I have never broke up an attempted bank robbery.

But when people find out that I have beaten cancer, had open heart surgery, two cases of pneumonia (one with sepsis and the other double pneumonia), kidney stones, all kinds of late issues from my treatments, I get, “You are brave.”

When I think of “bravery”, I think of men and women who run into a burning building, police officers who put themselves in harm’s way every day, an airline pilot flying a human missile loaded with hundreds of lives, a teacher shielding her students from a lunatic’s bullets.

No, I am not brave at all.  I simply did what I had to do.  I have two beautiful daughters who I know love me so much, it would devastate them to lose me.  I have no choice but endure if my body and mind are capable of doing so.  In the second half of my life, I have met so many people who have faced relapses of their cancer, multiple cancers, those who struggle with their survivorship from the treatments that saved their lives, and sadly, those who lost their battles.

I have always said that I would not go through anymore treatments if my Hodgkin’s Disease came back, that is, until my daughters came along.  One of my dearest friends has faced nearly 50 surgeries all having to do with her surviving her cancer treatments, this along with a battle with a secondary cancer.  With so many close calls, not just near death, or in some cases, flat lines, she continues to trudge on to this day, not only a proud mother, but the happiest grandmother, something that she never thought she would ever see.

I do not know how she would react if I told her that she was brave.  I know on occasions when I have talked with her on the telephone, I have told her that I was speechless for words to how I felt with her continued struggles and survival.  It would be easy for her to give up I think.  She has been through so much.  But the fact is, she has not given up.  It is with her example that I can never make that decision either.

And so, I am watched periodically, whether month to month, quarterly, or annually.  There are things that have been identified and can be dealt with.  I go to my appointments not afraid, but confident in my caregivers that things will be dealt with sooner than later.  That is not bravery, that is trust.  As for the all-of-a-sudden stuff like the pneumonias, the cardiac issue, some kidney activity… a little luck does not hurt either.

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