Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Education”

One Year Later


Although the warnings had been coming for a couple of months already, this is the time of year that changed for most of us, a health crisis that most of us had never witnessed before, perhaps not even read about in the history books.  Personally, I would rather just enjoy some meatballs or a nap.

Our country was facing a pandemic like never thought possible, for one reason.  We should have learned our lesson over a hundred years earlier.  But we did not.  Just as a hundred years ago, we faced a virus with no vaccine, no known treatment.  What we did have, was the experience of what we knew not to do as this virus would spread worse than wildfire.  And yet, instead of learning from history, we repeated it.

There was no plan to deal with the virus really.  Science was pitted against politics.  Soon, our country would be at its most divided point ever arguing feelings over facts.

Science is not exact.  It is trial an error.  The vaccine for polio did not happen on the first shot (pun intended).  A pill for insomnia was not discovered overnight.  I could go on.

But instead of recognizing the “trial and error” process of science, it was just easier for many to just say, “see, they don’t know what they are talking about.”  And then, enter the political rhetoric, because, those who took feeling over fact, saw any concern expressed by those side with facts over feeling, shouting concerns of the need to do more, prepare, prevent, protect, instead was an attack on their president.  And the only way to protect that president was to deny reality.  It is what it is.  And now, we have over 525,000 dead Americans, over 2 million world wide, from Covid19.  That is fact.

But a year ago, those of us who live by fact over feelings, made conscious decisions.  We heard the experts, scientists.  Sure, some politicians, and plenty of our neighbors and friends contradicted the scientists, but we knew that we had to have faith in those that knew what to do.  Sure, mistakes were going to be made.  But in the end, we expected to get through this.  Certainly, we did not expect it to reach a year, hoping for maybe one or two seasons.  Yet here were are, and though an end is in sight, we still have a ways to go, and still so many disagree with each other.

When it comes to having to sacrifice, I, and many others may have an advantage, being cancer survivors.  We have already gone through life, having to restrict our activities for our own good.  In fact, it is our own experience with science, that saved our lives.  This is why I trust science.

I made the difficult decisions last year, and continue them today, because they are what has been recommended.  Some of these changes have been good ones, long overdue.  Eating in.  My doctors are certainly pleased with weight loss resulting from not eating out, where I would dine on salt and fat loaded foods.  At home, I cook with no salt, and lean portions of meat.

Honestly, I do not miss “greetings” with hugs and kisses at all.  These things always gave me the willies because these gestures I felt were always meant for people that you felt strongly about.  Not as a general salutation.  Just seems so fake and awkward to me.  Even the handshake, while in general I do not have a problem with, I am okay with saying “goodbye” to it.  I will say over this year, I have seen way too many hands go up to mouth and nose, and then not get washed.

I have missed movies and concerts, but even now, many have learned how to stay relevant with streaming services.  The best thing?  Great concessions, free parking, and no traffic once it is over.  But I miss going to the local music scene as well.  Music is how I relax.  In fact, one of my favorite activities I like to do, and need to do, is karaoke.  I use this to exercise my lungs, damaged from my treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  Beats inhaling and exhaling with a spirometer.  And, given the nature of Covid19, it is important I keep my lungs as good as they can be.

But the hardest thing for me to deal with over the past year, was my children.  Being divorced, we live a great distance from each other, far enough to require flying.  In the beginning, as we dealt with nothing but unknowns, I had decided that it would not be safe for me to travel to see them, because of my obvious vulnerabilities, nor, to have them travel to me.  I would miss each of their birthdays, Father’s Day, and a couple of other visits.  Being older, my daughters understood the risks and agreed, that until more was known about how to deal with the situation, we would just have to settle for video calls like Facetime and Houseparty.

During the Summer, as more became known, and more precautions being taken, it was time to see what could be done about getting to see my daughters again.  After serious considerations, and all things considered with risks and precautions, both with human mitigation and engineering, we felt it would be okay, following the precautions, to fly.  Wearing masks and washing hands is one thing, but the one concern, being inside the aircraft, that went against guidelines for being “indoors” in close proximity more than 15 minutes was the only thing to be addressed.  And it was addressed through engineering with an air exchange system, circulating the air rapidly enough, not to allow transmission.  It made it possible to see my daughters again in person.

So here we are, a year later.  And just like many other outbreaks I have lived through, and lived with over the years with my vulnerabilities, I am learning to live with this.  I know we are finally heading in a direction that will get this under control finally.  I do feel that we will likely have at least one more hiccup as people “touch the trophy before playing the championship game”, celebrating too soon.

When I saw this image, which occurred in Boise, Idaho over the weekend at a “burn the mask” rally, this is what confirms the likelihood of another hiccup.  And what is worse, besides the fact that it makes a mockery of all the first responders who have cared for patients who had Covid19 or died from it, but is completely disrespectful to the millions who have lost their lives.  And this is what these children have been taught by this act.  I get it.  Some people don’t want to wear a mask, but it is not because they don’t believe it has some protective qualities at the minimum.  It is more of a statement against, and that is a foolish stance to take, and why we are still dealing with this a year later.

 

Just How Long Should You Hold A Grudge?


There was a time, a long time ago, I would just not let things go.  As a young boy, I had been pushed around so much, that I grew up making it clear, it would never happen again.  Going from one end of the spectrum to the other, was not the solution either.

When someone does something wrong to you, it is natural to either want to seek revenge, or hold a grudge against that person.  A grudge is a way of not letting the offender off the hook for their transgression.  Many times it gets tangled up with the concept of forgiveness, rather lack of.  Both can have the same impact on your health emotionally, but are definitely different.

When it comes to forgiveness, while the one who committed the offense has the actual responsibility to offer the remorse, it is still the recipient who likely carries the ill feelings long after the event has occurred.  This can lead to many emotional issues such as depression, conflict, anger, just to name a few.  Forgiveness does not mean forgetting what happened, but you stop giving it the weight sitting on your emotional life.

When it comes to someone holding a grudge, the entire issue falls on the individual holding on to, and carrying out the grudge.  Carrying a grudge is the equivalent to carrying out revenge.  Where revenge often leads to a back and forth, with each side getting even, a grudge is one sided, and usually continued until the recipient relents, or dies.

The problem for the recipient, is that they know that they have done nothing wrong.  And therefore actions committed against the recipient just lead to more head scratching.  It is the person with the grudge, who instead just continues to build the anger and frustrations because an end is not coming, or at least soon enough.  This does not hurt the recipient, it hurts the person with the grudge.  Hence, the meme at the top of this post.  And next to my favorite expression, “I would not piss in your mouth if your teeth were on fire,” I love this expression, “Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

And that is the best analogy for the downfalls of holding a grudge.  I am in no way saying that a person should not deal with something that went wrong or was handled wrong.  But there has to be an end at some point.  I could easily hold this position from my childhood decades ago.  There are numerous people I am currently friends with today, that were unimaginable back then.

I must admit, I have an advantage in this thinking.  Once known for having “knee jerk” reactions to conflict, I am now often described as “comatose” even when it comes to a traffic issue such as someone cutting me off in traffic.  Though I developed this thinking early on as a cancer survivor, I soon found myself slipping back into the old ways of not letting things go.  But as I faced other health crisis, one after another, I had finally convinced myself, the change in my thinking I had to do.

If whatever is happening, does not have an impact on my goals, and I really have only one goal in my life at this point, spending as much time with my daughters as I can, I let it go.  It just will not matter as much as the love I have for my daughters.  And it really is that simple for me.  What you do with your life has no bearing on mine.

There was a time, less than a decade ago, I might have felt differently.  Not anymore.

 

31 Years, An Odd But Very Important Milestone


March 3, 1990, I woke up that morning from the most challenging time period of my life (at the time any way).  This day, just following breakfast, I took the last of my oral chemotherapy drugs (having finished the IV part the day before).  I was done with my nine months of chemotherapy (originally scheduled for eight, but low blood counts stalled me a month) for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

That was thirty-one years ago today.  Unlike last year’s anniversary, which I definitely celebrated as a milestone (30 years), actually, thanks to Covid19, was the last thing I celebrated before mitigation efforts were enacted, I am not making a big deal about “just another year” until I hit my next recognized milestone of forty years, which to be honest, my goal is to hit fifty years.

But today is a milestone for a different reason.  It was a time I was told not to expect to see, not just from possibly dying from cancer, but issues related to the side effects from the treatments.

I was told that due to the toxicity of my treatments, it was unlikely that I would be able to have children.  Not something a newly married twenty-two year old wants to hear (or his fiance).  And back in 1990, there was not much said about options to becoming a family.

Science would rule out the possibility for me officially, as I call it, “no chocolate chips in the cookie dough” how I explain it when mixed company is around.  A decade later, science would take another crack at me, after learning how to possibly reverse said infertility issues, but came up blank again.  One final option to consider, was adoption.

Unfortunately, in the United States, we like to discriminate against people, for any reason.  If there is an opportunity to tell someone “no,” and crush a hope, there are just too many willing to do it.  And so, because of my health history, even if ten years earlier, adopting from the United States was a “no,” because I had cancer, a long time ago.

And then things changed, an opportunity coming from the last place I would have ever thought, and from the farthest reaches, China.  The international program recognized that I had a cancer history, and asked only one concern, “will you live an expected, normal life?”  It had already been twelve years at that point, and I was healthy, no sign of my cancer.

In eleven days, I will recognize the seventeenth year, since my oldest daughter was placed in my arms.  I have already recognized the fifteenth year for my younger daughter.

I am not necessarily recognizing the seventeen years as the milestone, but this month is going to recognize a bigger milestone, as my older daughter, will turn eighteen.  I will then be a parent of an adult child!

Again, this was a day I was told never to expect to happen.  And I have been blessed this way twice.

How I hate being told what I can and cannot do, or what I will or will not do.

Just as I had been advised that I may not see parenthood, in April of 2008, my daughters almost lost their father.  One of the late side effects from my treatments had crept on me, up until the point I had been diagnosed with a “widow maker” level heart blockage.  I had emergency open heart surgery to save my life within thirty-six hours.

This was the time period that would change my life forever.  It was discovered that I had damage from my radiation and chemotherapies from back in 1990.  And it was likely there would be more.  The problem was that even in 2008, there were hardly any doctors that knew about these issues and how to handle them.  And then…

I would meet the doctor that would change everything.  He was my needle in a haystack, having been found several hours away at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in Manhattan.  This doctor, and all who work with him, specialize in the late developing side effects from treatments.  At the point I met him, he had already been researching this issue for over three decades.  I found the best doctor for these issues I possibly could have.

Together, he reviewed what he could of my health history, as half of it had been destroyed by fire (according to my former oncologist – fancy way of saying they incinerated my records).  He assembled a plan to research all potential issues, some based on what he confirmed with my remaining records, and then assumptions for conditions he could not confirm from medical records, but rather common protocol back in 1990.

The bad news was, these issues are progressive.  As he explained to me, he cannot reverse what is happening to me, for any of the issues, and there are a lot, that would be discovered.  But he felt, he could help manage them, and even slow down the process by recommending certain therapies and changes in lifestyle.  And then he hit me with this,

“My job, is to help you see you children grow up, graduate from high school, and college (if they chose, and I hope they did want to), possibly get married, and perhaps, give me grandchildren.”

As my children were of the ages of two and four at the time, becoming a grandfather was definitely the last thing that I thought possible.  To go that far, would mean that I would have to have survived my cancer at least another twenty or thirty years.  I just could not get my head around that concept.  But I liked his thinking.

Each milestone I would reach in my survivorship, I convinced myself that my doctor not only knew what he was talking about, but I was definitely going to get to see that time period in my life.  And it will be great when that happens.

I would face even more health hurdles along the way, defying the efforts to help me reach my goal of becoming a grandfather, waiting to see what my new title would become… Pappy?  Poppop?  Grandpop?

Two battles with septic aspiration pneumonia.  Another heart surgery.  And most recently, a surgery to one of my carotid arteries, blocked severely enough to risk a stroke.

It was one thing to be told, I would likely not become a father.  It is totally another to face opportunities that would strip me of the most important loves of my life, my daughters.

Soon, my older daughter will turn 18, and my younger daughter, not far behind.  Together with my doctors, I am going to achieve that goal.  So, it may be an odd number to recognize for an annual anniversary, but my daughter turning 18 in my 31st year as a survivor of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is a pretty big deal.

 

 

 

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