Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Education”

Last Christmas, Or The Next Stage?


It was inevitable really.  This memory came up for me today.

2013 was a difficult year emotionally for many reasons.  My father had been recently diagnosed with cancer.  My health had been struggling for the last year and a half, more so than prior years.  I had also initiated my second divorce.

This would be the last “Santa” photo taken of my daughters, an annual tradition.  My older daughter, the trooper since discovering that I was Santa Claus, still went along with these photos anyway.  But this was also the year that my younger daughter began to have her doubts about the man in red.

And that is when it started, the need to “cling on” as hard as I could.  You could see how much it meant to her to have that one thing that while so impossible to believe was real, still wanting to give all she could, to believe in the impossible, that maybe things that had been going on around her, though seemingly impossible, might be possible.

Although a baptized Christian, I do enjoy the Santa Claus lore.  I like the meaning.  And as I had one daughter who no longer believed, and another wanting to, I felt it was time to change, to adapt what the story of Santa Claus was really about, giving.  And so, I instilled in both of them, that Santa Claus while in the presence sense may not be real, his spirit definitely is, and it is something we all possess.  My daughters learned the importance of the season of giving at that moment.  Santa Claus would live on.

Like many households dealing with divorce, another change would come with observing Christmas.  The goal still to be as enjoyable for the children.  Clearly different than what they had experienced previously when they were younger.  For some, it is part of the day with one parent, part of the day with the other.  Then there are those who actually split the Christmas holiday week between parents.

But hold on.  Then the children turn eighteen, graduate high school, and move away to college, perhaps find a significant other.  Another change.  And in the world of divorce, time already split to a minimum with either parent, the holidays morph into yet another stage, perhaps not even making it home for the holidays, while your child, the one you have spent every holiday with, informs you that they are going to meet the family of their heart’s interest.  This is the stage that I am preparing for next.  One daughter near that age, another not far behind.

And peering into my Norman Rockwell crystal ball, eventually, I will be the one making the annual holiday trips to not only see my daughters, but their own families as well.

And who knows, maybe I met get to dust of the red suit once again.

The Power Of The Pet


I have always believed in the power of pets and healing, at least comforting, which is just as important.

This is one of only two photos I am aware of, from my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma days over 30 years ago.  Just prior to beginning my chemotherapy, I adopted a calico kitten and named her “Pebbles.”

There was just something so soothing about the purr, close to your ears, the feline vibrations soft enough to massage the physical stress away.  And though she spent lots of time doing “kitty things,” it was her behavior once I started chemotherapy that I will never forget.

On a regular basis, as I entered the door of my apartment, she always rushed to greet me.  But after my chemotherapy appointment, I “rudely” rushed by her, ignoring her, to get to the bathroom to deal with the nausea that as expected, was about to hit me.

She followed me to the bathroom, like many pets do.  Only, you could see, she was confused that I did not seem to be using the toilet like I normally would.  I was unable to pet her or give her attention.  And there she sat, just staring at me.  When I was done heaving, exhausted, it took every ounce of strength I still had left to get to my bedroom, and crawl into bed, shaking from the physical tension and muscle tightness all over.  Everywhere hurt.

As I lay in bed, Pebbles came up onto the bed, laying on my wife’s pillow (to be clear, 1st wife) until she came home from work, keeping watch over me.  This became the ritual for the next eleven treatments, every time.

Pebbles was not the first pet to have an impact in my treatment and recovery.  I had a golden retriever named Pollo.  Unbelievably loyal, Pollo went everywhere I went.  Except one time.  And that was in 2008 when I had to have open heart surgery to save my life from damage caused by treatments years earlier for my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

We were known to roughhouse with each other, battling over who would be “alpha.”  This made me nervous as I made the trip home from the hospital, after six days recovering, my breast bone, still precariously sore and obviously not healed.  I had no idea how to prepare for Pollo, because when I came home from work, he often jumped on me to greet me at the door.  This could not happen when I walked in the door.  But how would I control his excitement.  We had never been apart.

I could feel my heart race as I opened the door, and here he came, he was definitely happy to see me.  And then his pace slowed, soon approaching my side, and standing there, allowing me to have the opportunity to pet him calmly.  As I was assuring him that I was home, and I would be okay, it would be as if he was trying to let me know, he was there to take care of me.  No matter where I was sitting, he would lay at my feet.  If I was laying down, he was laying by my side.  I could always count on him being there for me.

It did not have to be my own dog either.  During one of my many trips to the hospital, I was often visited by fur friends who stopped in just to say “hi.”  You can immediately feel the weight lift off you when you are approached by one of these four-legged caregivers.

Yes, medicine plays a big part in your care.  So does faith, if that is what you believe.  Support from family members, and of course, your actual caregivers from nurses to doctors are important.  But just as important, in care and recovery, are our fur friends.

Really Not A Grinch, But…


I hate broccoli.  Allow me to expand on that.  I hate all vegetables, at least the green ones, also known as “the good ones for you.”

Reality TV… cannot stand it.  Well, except for the vocal competitions, as long as they do not waste my time with those just looking for fifteen minutes of fame.

Do not call lists.  We either have them and are on them until we take ourselves off due to some masochistic issue, or leave us the hell alone.

But there is one thing that really irritates me, like having sand in your swim trunks.  And yes, I know what that feels like.  I was really not smart at five years old.

To quote Jim Carrey’s “Grinch” character… “I looooooaaaathe” these things!  Reindeer antlers for cars.  The odd thing is, I have seen other decorations on cars that do not antagonize me the way these things do, even cars totally wrapped up in Christmas lights.  But these antlers!  AAAARRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

Now, I need to give a little bit of transparency.  I am not a big fan of the holiday season in general.  To me, November and December are the grim reaper of the calendar.  I have had to deal with so many crisis and tragedy during these months over my life.  That said, I do celebrate the holidays, and to levels that might surprise you.  And as the things that have caused me such grief in these months, two of the most important people in my life, keep me in the moment of recognizing how each year, this holiday is important to me.

Yes, because of my daughters, I embrace the Christmas holiday.  Just as they helped my father embrace the holidays also.

I fully embraced the holiday.  Look at the smiles on their faces.  I had to keep those smiles forever.  I was fully committed to the role.

Every year I dressed up in a Santa suit.  My fur friend Pollo, always knew it was me under the suit, but he needed to be influenced to stay silent.  Christmas Eve, photos and video were taken of me with Pollo, eating the cookies and drinking milk, even putting presents under the tree.  And then, to reinforce the belief in the big guy, I showed the proof beyond the half-eaten cookies and now warm leftover milk, photos.  And much clearer than the photos of Big Foot.  Unfortunately, this was the final year that I did this, because, I was lazy.  And lazy got me caught.  My older daughter, who can find an earring back in three inches of shag carpeting, something unusual about Santa.  “Why is ‘HoHo’ wearing your sneakers Daddy?”  The gig was up.  I got away with the initial explanation of him having dirty boots, he took them off, and my sneakers were by the fireplace so he put them on, not be rude walking barefoot in our house.

And I am not against decorations.  Quite the contrary.

Every year, the day before Thanksgiving, I was outside, working on the thousands of lights that I would put up.  The picture shown is incomplete, because I had lights along the roof, and over 12,000 lights strung in my huge holly tree.  And there were hand crafted wood ornaments I had not put out yet.  My point is, I am not anti decoration.

But there is something about these things, that I cannot let go.  I am not a hunter.  So it is not a primal urge to shoot at something resembling a deer.  I just cannot explain the feeling.  Making it worse, don’t let me see that stupid red nose on the front grill of the car.

You don’t think these things don’t belong on a car.  Let me prove you otherwise.  Besides the fact that I think they are stupid (I know many will not share that sentiment), they are actually dangerous.

WHAT?

That’s right.  Sure, they may look cute driving through streets looking at houses decorated for Christmas, where you are driving five miles an hour.  But they are not meant for higher speeds.  Allow me to explain, because I actually get joy out of this.

These antlers are not meant for high speeds, unlike Santa’s actual reindeer.  And if these antlers have bells attached for authentic reindeer sleigh bells, even worse.  So, while one Christmas season, driving to the Poconos via the Pennsylvania Turnpike, there arose such a clatter, against my driver side window as I drove on cruise control at 70mph.    That clatter got louder and faster, and then all of a sudden, there was silence.  At least from the driver side of the car.  The passenger side was still noisy, but not as loud with my distance from it.

When we got to our destination, it appears our “reindeer wannabe car” had a mishap.  It broke an antler.  Funny.  Hysterical at least to me, because I never liked it in the first place, nor did I like feeling emasculated driving a car adorned with this crap.  But for the other passengers in my car, including my daughters, they wanted to laugh, because they saw that I saw it was funny, and “daddy is always funny.”  But the other parent was not amused, in fact, actually accusing me intentionally of driving a speed that somehow I knew would cause injury to the antlers.  Right.  Because I obtained secret information from the factory warning of antler stress fractures due to high rates of speed of 70 mph or more.  It was a conspiracy.

Just like in Scooby Doo, I had been caught like Mr. Chaumers.  I was glad that antler broke off.  But now I wondered whatever happened to the flying projectile from my car.  Did it fly into the windshield of the car behind me, either cracking the windshield, or worse, causing the driver to panic, perhaps getting into a car accident?

I may have not been thinking it originally, as to why I did not like these things.  But I do know now why I don’t like car antlers.  They are dangerous.  May not seem like it, but they have the potential for harm.

At the least, once Christmas was over, then the f*@cking Easter Bunny ears, nose, and fluffy tail were purchased next.  And those met a similar fate.  But that is a different story and a different season.

 

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