Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Cancer”

Why The Delay? Did I Miss Something?


All through my life, I have never been known as a complainer when it comes to my health.  The inside joke with my doctor and staff, is that if I am spotted in their office, there clearly has to be something wrong.  I do not ask for an office visit unless I can no longer tolerate what is ailing me, or it has gotten so bad, that over the counter methods no longer have any effect.

Even during my days undergoing cancer treatment, between February 1989 and March of 1990, I made no phone calls to my oncologist about any side effects that I did not feel I could not tolerate or deal with.  My goal following my treatments was to be free once again, to be in control of my health.  I wanted to return to the days when my doctor only saw me in times beyond my ability to care for myself.  Perhaps that thinking might have had the opportunity to cost me my life as I endured four months of chest pain before finding out I could die any moment.  If ever there was any example of needing to be prudent in my care, this should have been my light bulb moment.

So what takes me so long to respond yet today?  Why do I allow my tolerance to pain and discomfort to dictate my judgement?  As I sit in front of one of the doctors who specialize in the care of long term cancer survivors at one of the top cancer hospitals in the country, I confound him as he struggles to understand, why I tolerate levels of pain and discomfort.  Late side effects from my treatments cannot be reversed, but they can be slowed down, managed.  But in order for that to happen, I have to let all of my doctors know the simplest of concepts, when I do not feel well.  It should be that easy.

In the last year and a half, I have had to deal with three major issues related to my cancer history.  I had developed a swallowing issue that prevented me initially from swallowing foods occasionally, toward the end, not even able to swallow water before reaching out to my doctors.  Twice within the last nine months, I have ended up in the emergency room, once by ambulance, with fevers over 103.5.  In March, the diagnosis was sepsis and pneumonia, and this month, it was a case of bilateral pneumonia, formerly called “double pneumonia” or “walking pneumonia”.  To get to this point, my body had to have given some sort of warning signs which I either ignored or never recognized.

It was a nurse during my recent hospital stay who helped me to recognize what I cannot see or sense.  At one point in my life, I had been heard saying that I deserved everything that has happened to me since I made the decision to save my life from cancer.  It was a choice that I made, to either let the cancer take me, or put up with the costs of the treatments and surgeries that saved my life.  No one else made that decision, except for me.  But it was not so much a price that I paid every day for my cure, but it was a tolerance that I was unknowingly building.

I have had over two weeks to try and figure outwhat could have possible led to my latest medical crisis.  There had to be some sort of warning that I failed to recognize.  There were actual spots on both of my lungs.  I deal with chronic pain every day.  How do I differentiate what is old and which is new pain?

Someone who constantly calls their doctor about every little pain, sniffle, cough, or ache, is referred to as a hypochondriac.  And this is one of the main reasons that I speak for only myself, and perhaps other cancer survivors, why we do not react sooner.  So that we are taken seriously because quite clearly, when it gets to the point of sepsis or double pneumonia, there will be no mistaking it.  There will be no accusation of hypochondria and the resulting dismissal.  And because of this, we become tolerant.

Though there are currently studies on late effects on cancer survivors, there is still so much more to be learned.  but for those of us who know what we have been through, we owe it to ourselves and our families to not underestimate anything that does not feel right with our body.  Of course, it is one thing to talk the talk, another thing to walk…

Another Year Older


“So this is Christmas, and what have we done?  Another year over, a new one just begun.”       John Lennon

I have made it another year.  This is another one that will go down probably as one that I would rather forget, though really, who wants to remember birthdays after 30?  But for leap year babies, it will be some time before you feel that “over 30″ angst.

I am one of several in my life whose birthdays are within the two weeks of Christmas.  I believe that I am the one closest.  I cannot speak for my stepbrother, an old dear friend from high school, or a close friend and former co-worker who actually shares the date of his birthday with mine.  As a child, I would say it was a safe bet that my birthday and Christmas loot got shared between the two holidays.  I caught it early on, but I am no known to complain about gifts.

My early years saw quite tradtional birthday celebrations.  My meal of choice was tuna fish casserole and ice cream cake.  This went on for years until 1976, meal done, my aunt went to the side porch to light the candles for the cake, brought the cake into the kitchen and everyone began to sing Happy Birthday.  Just then, My Uncle Jim came into the house yelling “FIRE!!!” and all of the smart asses at the table agreed… on the cake.  Jimmy protested some more and grabbed a couple pitchers of water and contained the flames to the side porch.  Can’t forget the smell on that birthday.

The best birthday gift came when Wendy flew me out to Seattle to see the Seahawks play the Raiders…. AND THEY WON!!!!

I do not recall the milestone of #21 I just know it involved a lot of drinks, and a possible trip to the hospital to get the stomach pumps.  I was told I got 21 drinks down, though I do not recall it.  One thing I lost was Roxanne Assorgi.  Where did you go?

There were some dark birthdays with recent health issues and their timing, so birthdays I would rather forget.  One occured about five years ago, I missed our “family” treat to dinner, but Wendy insisted on us going actually on my birthday when I felt better.  Only I wouldn’t.  We ate at the Outback and I ordered my usual porterhouse,  Barely getting from the restauarant, I began to lose my lunch

My daughters do make me enjoy my birthdays which unlimited excitement at 5:30am.  The gifts are special as they are things that they picked out or made, thinkgs that make me happy.

So I cut it close last week, when Wendy had me put in the ER with another case of pneumonia, this time double pneumonia.  Just nine months less from the last time.  Nine days before my birthday, a nurse made the comment “we hope to have you home by then.”  I never thought it would be so serious.  So, I am home at least, stomach is a mess from the antibiotics and lungs can’t handle the cold.  Yeah, another birthday I’d rather forget.

Make Your Inner Voice Your Outer Voice


One thing that I know I definitely got from my mother was my ability to speak out.  Mix in the experience of being bullied the majority of my scholastic years.  Then factor in the years of experience and exposure in the second half of my life in the medical world.

I will not deny that I am more outspoken than most people I know.  That can be a good trait or a bad one.  It can rally people together around me or those that need it, or it can isolate me and cause abandonment issues, actual ends of friendships.  While I am often congratulated for the stances that I make, when all is said and done, when the dust is settled, I often find myself standing alone.  I may not win every challenge I take on, but I actually do hope that it will make things easier for the next person who unfortunately may have to go through a similar situation, especially those who feel they have no voice or cannot express their voice.

There are many complaints about the cost of health care in the United States.   Causes are blamed by many, from lack of insurance, prevention, and lack of quality health care.

I have a very high tolerance for pain and illness that allow me to give off the presentation, that upon sight, I look like an average middle aged man, healthy, no concerns.  Because of this, I often hear and sometimes participate in uncensored conversations that include how much should be spent on a particular patient battling a certain malady.  It is inconceivable to me, that a country as great as ours, as proud as ours, as technologically advanced as ours, and as morally righteous as ours, that some people feel how much, if any care a person should receive or be denied.

One of my biggest issues since battling cancer more than two decades ago, is the fact that I survived and so many have not, do not, and will not.  This is no different of a situation than survivors of natural disasters, accidents, or violent events.  Why me?  Why did I get another chance at life while a child battling the same cancer as me did not?  Some would argue that I should just shut up and be grateful for my second chance at life, especially since some do not get that chance.

In the case of someone who is sick, judgement comes swiftly as conversations about the ill turn to how the person came to be sick.  After all, it is crucial to the spectator to know if patient is just a victim of circumstance or brought the illness on by their own decisions or poor habits.  So some have no problem having zero empathy for an alcoholic needing a liver transplant, a cigarette smoker needing respiratory treatments, or worse.

There are literally millions, well over twelve million in fact, survivors of cancer.  And of those millions, a majority of us, myself included, now face ramifications (doctors call them side effects) for the decision we made, to save our lives.  These side effects range from minor to major, but from a financial standpoint, add up sometimes to quadruple what it originally cost to cure us.

As I mentioned, because I look healthy, people are comfortable with complaining about people receiving exceptional testing and treatments, calling them wasteful spending.  While I would agree about the costs being extreme, there was no way that I knew 24 years ago, what I would be dealing with today, the fears I would face, the uncertainties I would be dealt with.  Again, as a 46 year-old male, I should expect to be turned down by the insurance company  for repeated stress tests for my heart in spite of my having had open heart surgery.  Forget what doctors know, the insurance companies do not want to keep paying for it.  So as I appeal my case, my symptoms get worse, leading to more extreme testing and treatments.  And with the objections of those ignorant around me I hear, “how much will more should be spent?  when is enough enough?”

I do not know what my decision would have been in 1988 had I known that so many things would happen with me in 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, and 2012.  And there will undoubtedly be more in years to come.  But I can prove that I had no idea, nor did my treatment team, know what would be in store for me in my future.  But as they now learn about cancer survivors, my fellow cancer survivors such as myself, also learn.  We do our best to inform ourselves and educate ourselves.  It is not my wish to end up back in the hospital a week after I have been released, especially for the same thing I was admitted for in the first place.  You tell me which is more expensive, treat me right the first time or have me come back and treat me some more?

So when the doctor comes into your room, and tells you that your condition has not changed in the three days since you first arrived in the hospital ER, you must speak up for yourself.  No one around me was going to do it for me in spite of the fact of what I came in for, and was no better than when I came in.  And so I challenged the doctor, with the ability that I developed over the years to learn about my care, my body.  I came in with the same issue nine months earlier.  Why were not the same tests done as before?  Why were the same medications that cured me before used this time instead of the cheaper alternative?  Why was the cause not deterimined so that it could be prevented from reoccuring?  And there were plenty more questions that followed.

When all was said and done, nurses and other support staff congratulated me on the way I stood up for myself and for my well-being, whether they were in my room with me or simply heard about my experience.  Friends, relatives, and all the medical professionals involved in taking care of me all realized what could have happened had I been sent home prematurely.

But not everyone has that ability, that voice.  It is my hope that if you are one of those, that you have someone willing to speak up for you.  If you are one of the unfortunate thinkers who believe that too much money is spent on individuals, that is a shame as there is no way that you can possibly know all of the details involved in a particular case to make your decision or opinion.  Wait, you do not have that right to make that decision for me, even if you knew everything about my case.

Today, I am sitting at home recovering.  Unfortunately, I do believe another event will occur.  And hopefully my loved ones have learned invaluable lessons in how to speak up for my care.  My life, and the fatherhood of my daughters depend on it.  And it does not have to be a health issue that will be my next battle.  And those that know me, know that is true.  And they are still here by my side because they know that I would stand by them the same way if needed.

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