Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Education”

How To Save A Life


Okay, forget Grey’s Anatomy.  Let me tell you how a life is really saved… mine.  Well at least one of the times.

First, how did I get to this particular moment?  To treat my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma (the original life saving event), I was treated with both chemotherapy, and radiation therapy.  It is the radiation therapy that  caused life saving event number two.  Unlike what patients today would be exposed to, I had been exposed to 4000 grays of ionized radiation.  To put that in perspective, that is more than 4 times the lifetime maximum exposure limit.  Mention this to any radiation tech or nuclear power plant worker today and they would cringe.  The fact is, it did save my life.  Unfortunately, it was unknown back in 1989, what doing that much radiation to me would lead to long term.  Even when I was going through my treatments, I barely knew any long term survivors who actually were exposed to worse levels than I was exposed to.

So, anyway, the radiation has had a cumulative effect on me, still does to this day.  But nine years ago, I was diagnosed with a “widow maker”, a blockage of the LAD (the main artery going to the heart).  Radiation had so badly scarred that artery, it was blocked nearly 90%.  So, for the rest of the story, you can go to the page on “Paul’s Heart” called “CABG – Not Just A Green Leafy Vegetable.”  The purpose of this post, is to summarize the extraordinary efforts that were used to save this life.

I was wheeled into the operating room, around 6:30am.  That is the last place that I remember until waking up in the Intensive Care Unit, alone, just my nurse trying to keep me calm.  I had just had a procedure the day before, and though I knew I was going to have a bypass, I was in no way prepared for what condition I was going to be in.  Seeing that I was extremely emotional upon waking up, and going into a full blown panic attack not seeing anyone familiar, I was re-sedated.

Fast forward, as I am known to do, I obtained the records of this experience.  I had to.  The doctor had no one to explain what was done, so that it could be explained to me.  The operative report is three pages long, but clearly, does adequately the skills that were used to save my life.

Once in the operating room, the only thing I had been wearing, the gown, had been removed.  I was covered only by a blanket.  At that point, everything was connected to me, tubes connected or inserted, all to prepare for the surgery.  Prophylactic antibiotics were administered, not just because this was a risky procedure, but because I had not spleen, which puts me at a higher risk for infections.

Then they opened me up.  Because they could not harvest a sufficient vein from my leg, they actually used my mammary artery.  Once they were done prepping this graft, I was put on a bypass machine.  For the first time in 42 years, I was no longer going to be breathing on my own, nor having my own heartbeat.  A machine was going to be doing that for me.  And here is where it got surreal for me reading this report.  “The patient was placed on bypass, cooled, and emptied.”  Emptied?  Yes, my heart was emptied blood, and in its place would be an antegrade solution.  This was all done to keep my body cold, keep my heart safe, so that when I was put back together, the heart would be back to its preoperative condition.

There is a whole bunch of stuff that was done, and when it was, my heart “was allowed to fill with blood”, and after 45 minutes on the heart/lung machine, my heart was jumpstarted.

Of course, there were other things that had to be completed before finally closing me up.  And there was a lot to be done.  But the surgery had been successful.

Why do I bring this story up?  Because I am someone who can appreciate just how expensive medicine can be.  I am extra critical of the insurance industry and their greed.  I am definitely opposed to the efforts of our current government to deal with health care.  If the government had enacted the American Health Care Act, and I had to have this done, I would be dead.  I already have the pre-existing condition of cancer which would put me in the high risk pool, a pool that I would never be able to afford for the care that I need.

And without insurance, I do not have the faith in medicine to put any kind of effort to save my life, knowing that they will never get paid for their work because I would have no insurance.

You want to save a life?  Many lives?  Our government needs to go back to the drawing board.  Perhaps it is time to go with the single payer health insurance.  But the current direction that our government is going to result in people dying.  I have many more pre-existing conditions all created by my original cancer diagnosis.  I would hate to think that my 27 years of survivorship will have been for nothing, having been put at risk for the benefit of politics, lobbying, and corporate greed.

Behind The Mask


I am going to share some information with you.  During the recent and large brush fires that we experienced here in southwest Florida, I heard several people speak about wearing “masks” to help deal with the smoke.  Of course, the masks that people refer to are nothing more than those used by doctors, surgical masks.

And we have seen these masks used in several different settings by common people in every day situations.  The masks are worn to prevent inhaling allergens or dust, perhaps with the belief that it will protect the person from inhaling a contagion such as the flu or cold.  People can be seen walking the streets, on airplanes, even in doctor waiting rooms, wearing these masks.

You are not as protected wearing these types of masks as you think you are.  In fact, if anything, to a certain degree you protect other people from you.

If you are going to wear a mask, you want to make sure it will serve the purpose you are wearing it.  But honestly, a plain surgical mask is nothing more than a sneeze/cough catcher, and possibly preventing a direct hit of the wearer’s bad breath.  The material is too thin, and it also does not “seal”, and that is the important word, seal around your mouth and nose.  The only way to prevent inhaling smoke, dust, allergens, or contagions, is wearing something called a respirator.

Respirators come in various styles.  What I have pictured is a common respirator.  I know this because at one time in my life, I worked in an environment that required “respirator training.”  In other words, learning and making sure you use the respirator properly.  A respirator when properly worn, will seal and prevent any outside hazards from being inhaled.  The mask has material built inside, to crimp around the contour of your jaw and nose, making a seal.  If you are wearing it properly, as you breath, you will feel the respirator almost “suck” to your face.  That means that there is a seal.  And if it does not, then you are basically wearing it as if it were a surgical mask, offering little if no protection at all.

Of course, in a professional setting, the training involved a lot more than just putting it on and seeing if it stuck to your face.  I actually wore a hood over top of my head, while wearing the respirator, while a mild scent was sprayed inside the hood.  If I could smell the material, then I did not have a seal.

When you are trying to prevent something from entering your lungs, you need to wear the correct mask, and a surgical mask is not it.  A surgical mask will not protect you from smoke inhalation, grass allergies, dust storms, or someone with a case of the flu.  The rule is quite simple, and you do not to be a professional, if you can smell it, you definitely are not protected from it.

 

When You Give A Girl A New Country


Today, I am welcoming a guest author today.  Though we have never met, we have a personal connection, which, when I saw her blog title, I knew that I wanted to share her thoughts with those in my personal circle.  You see… Haley is adopted from China.  I actually got to meet her parents when Haley’s family and I each adopted our second child (respectively) from China.  Haley’s younger sister, and my youngest daughter has a bond that will last forever.  Haley’s family and my family are connected forever.

There are already so many children who have been adopted from China, who have now reached adulthood.  As our children grow, because the majority of us in the adoption world are blended families culturally having those issues to deal with, there are also the needs, interests, and issues that the child will have to deal with themselves.  Well… who better than to reveal what goes on in the mind of someone who has been adopted, heading into adulthood, than someone who is there right now.

So, please allow me to introduce you to Haley, a senior in high school.

“When You Give A Girl A New Country”

In my family, we celebrate an extra holiday every year.

We call it my “Gotcha Day” because on September 12th, 1999, I met my parents for the first time. That day is the day we became a family.

I’m writing this article to answer some frequently asked questions about adoption that I have gotten over the years, currently get, and will continue to get throughout my life. I answer these questions on behalf of myself and many other adopted kids around the world; I’m sure they’ve received the same questions and can relate to my answers.

Growing up, being adopted has proven to be interesting. Some people try to avoid talking or asking about my adoption; many treat it like a sensitive topic. People view the notion of adoption as a tragedy—they treat talking about adoption like talking about a death. People tread very lightly when asking me about my adoption, and they always seem to be very uncomfortable and nervous.

The former has always confused me, because why should anyone feel uncomfortable to ask me about my loving family? Why is the very blessing that brought me to where I am today treated like a tragedy?

Probably the most frequent question I get asked is if I would want to meet my birth parents eventually. Being that the adoption was international and thus closed, we have very little information on either of my birth parents, so the idea of ever actually meeting them is very far out of reach. But even if I could, I don’t know why I’d want to. Meeting them wouldn’t be some magical moment like it would be in the movies. I wouldn’t feel any kind of special connection to them immediately or anything. Who’s to say I would even like them?

I think this is only a thing adopted kids truly understand, but having blood to blood relation doesn’t actually have anything to do with being a family. I have encountered the term “real” parents multiple times in my life, and I want to make it clear that my parents that I live with now are my real parents. They clothed me, fed me, cared for me, and raised me. They are the people that are responsible for the person that I am today, and they are the people that gave me the entire world. I don’t know about me, but it is them that deserve the title of “real” parents. They parented me, thus they are my real parents.

Another frequently asked question I receive is if I am upset or angry at my birth parents for giving me up.

Honestly, I’m not upset or angry at all, but instead, I am indescribably grateful for the decision that my birth parent(s) made to give me up for adoption. They chose the best option out of what I see was three: the first being adoption, the second being to kill me (wich is a common practice done to unwanted children in Asia), and the last being to keep me and try to raise me. Although I do not know the circumstances of my birth parent(s) situation, I can infer that because they indeed did give me up that they were not in the best position to keep me. If they tried to keep me, my life would’ve been a struggle.

I cannot express my gratitude towards my birth parent(s)’ knowledge of what my life would’ve been for me and instead of selfishly keeping me, deciding to give me up and give me opportunities they would’ve never been able to provide.

One of the most commonly asked questions that I’ve received throughout my life is if I believe my parents do not love me, or could not love me, as much as they would if I was their biological child. And this brings me back to a point that I made earlier: blood relationship does not define family.

My family has shown me more love and care than I could ever repay them for. They’ve given me the world and provided me with everything I could’ve wished for in the world. Without them, I would be nothing. They have loved and supported me as if I was their own, because honestly, I am their own.

Although I was not born of the two of them, they are still my parents and they will always be my parents. Biological relation is irrelevant in family. Family is about showing love, care, and support throughout a child’s entire life, and that’s what my family has given me.

 – Haley

 

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