Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Education”

26 Years And Counting


1457032151454

Today has been an emotional day for me, a humbling day, an inspirational day.

On March 3, 1990, I received my final chemotherapy treatment for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

But unlike that day, which was shared only with my oncology nurse, today, as I announced the 26th anniversary of my remission date on my personal Facebook page, I heard from so many who offered me congratulations on my survivorship.

It was not just friends and family that I heard from either.  Because of my involvement across the internet with cancer support, many of those who I have counseled and even more, just other observing survivors offered me congratulations and well wishes.  And as humbling to share this day with so many, it was even more inspiring to hear from other survivors who have beaten Hodgkin’s even longer than I have.  I heard from people thirty years out, forty years out.  And I am even aware of survivors well into their sixth decade.

Surviving cancer is a big deal.  Surviving decades is an even bigger deal.  I realize what my survival means to me, to my daughters, to my family, and to my friends  I know what my survivorship means to other survivors who look at me and say, “I want to live a long time, just as Paul has.”  The truth be told, with my survivorship has come a lot of loss as well.  I have said goodbye to many who have been long term survivors who have succumbed due to issues created by their treatments, just as I deal with.  And I have said goodbye to those who have been unable even make it through remission.

So as it goes, I recognize today.  I do not celebrate it.

As always, I will always advocate for better and safer treatments.  I will always push for protection from discrimination because now that people do survive cancer, they deserve to be treated no differently than those who have not heard the word cancer personally.  I will continue to share information and help to educate patients and doctors because I truly believe that it is survivors who have pioneered the long term protocol we  currently have today.

Yes, today is a big day for me.  I know that.  But there is so much to do yet.

Thank you all for your support, and see you next year (for the anniversary that is).

My Qualifications


I am going to need to offer a bit of a warning to this post.  What you are going to read will be quite shocking, maybe even quite overwhelming.  In upcoming posts, I will be finally getting to the most important post I have ever written.  But before I can do that, I want to disclose to you, just how qualified I am to discuss these things, what drives me.

1440700063544

This is what I allow everyone to see.  I have my reasons.  The first, I do not want pity.  I want to lead a normal and healthy life, just like so many others who have been blessed with perfect health.  I do not want to be helped to do simple things.  The second reason, unless you are a fellow cancer survivor yourself, the things that I am dealing with, the health risks that I face, the uncertainties, can be overwhelming.  Many of those close to me have not been able to accept the late effects that I deal with, and some have simply given up on me because they do not want to hear about the next medical events as they come up.

But as the expression goes, about the book and the cover, I am choosing now to open the book.  As I said, what you are about to read, it is going to be difficult.  While many consider surviving cancer to be a good thing, and I do consider surviving cancer, especially as long as I have, a good thing.  But my survival has come at a price.  And as you will see, and I am sure you would hope, diagnostics, treatments, and risks, still have such a long way to go.  I am planning on publishing the next post on what I hope will serve each and every reader of “Paul’s Heart” to be the advocate that each patient needs to be for themselves, so that survival has a chance to be more tolerable.

And with that, here are my qualifications to speak as an advocate for better diagnostics, treatments, and follow up care for all cancer patients and survivors.

The Heart

It was April of 2008, when I first discovered that for 17 years, my body was developing side effects from diagnostics and treatments given to me for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  I needed to have emergency heart bypass surgery due to radiation damage to the main artery going to my heart.  Following that surgery, it was also discovered that I have valve issues with two of my valves from both radiation and chemotherapy.  However, because of risks from the surgery, any corrections of these valves must wait, until the risks of the condition itself, become worse than the surgery to correct them.  Simply put, a ticking time bomb.  And if that were not enough, many of the survivors that I have known over the years, who have had this surgery, have survived that surgery, only to suddenly succumb to unsuspecting infections.  I am hoping that by my knowing this risk, should the situation arise, I can convince those with my care of the precautions that need to be taken.

The Lungs

Damage from radiation and chemotherapies has resulted in the loss of the lower lobe in my left lung, leaving my lung capacity at a measured 76%.  I also have spots on my left lung that are followed up every other year, to watch for growth in the event that they become cancerous.  These spots are unknown, but known that they are growing.

A combination of cardiac and pulmonary, I deal with shortness of breath, labored breathing, with any severe weather like humidity and cold.  Any walk with even the slightest of incline or steps can leave me struggling for breath.

Carotids

Both of my carotid arteries are narrowed from radiation damage.  Another issue that is monitored until it becomes bad enough to do anything about, the risk of stroke form the surgery itself will only be considered once the risk of stroke from the narrowing of the carotids is greater.

Spine

Chemotherapy has resulted in me developing osteopenia, meaning that my bones are at a higher risk of fracture.  Along with facet joint arthritis, both conditions exist in my lower spine resulting in pain I deal with on a daily basis.  There is also quite a bit of discomfort in my hips.

Muscle Damage

I have been diagnosed with Radiation Fibrosis Syndrome.  I have lost so much muscle mass in my upper torso, it is visible to even non-medical personnel.  Flexibility and mobility have both been lost.  I am at a higher risk of muscle tears.  I am not able to lift my arms above my shoulders.

And because of the muscle loss in the back of my neck, my head pulls forward from the remaining muscles in the front of my neck.  This is referred to quite common-like, “drooping head” syndrome, because the appearance is obvious, the head droops forward.  I have spent years training my neck to keep my head lifted up.  Yes, everything courtesy of radiation damage.

Thyroid Issues

Yet another result from radiation damage, my thyroid has been reduced to a shriveled misshapen organ, basically shut down.  I take a prescription to keep it functioning properly, but that does not prevent the many cysts that develop each year.  So far, the cysts have been benign, but due to the risk of developing thyroid cancer, one of the cysts actually required a biopsy.

Loss of My Spleen

As part of my diagnostics, my spleen was removed.  Making perfect sense as Hodgkin’s being a cancer of the immune system, often times, the spleen is involved, as was my case.  However, at one time, it was believed that we could live without the spleen, turns out medicine was wrong.  And because of that, not only is my ability to survive a cardiac event compromised, I can also not defend myself against common illnesses such as the flu, pneumonia, strep throat, chicken pox, and more.  I cannot even be around anyone receiving “live” vaccines for this reason.

Esophageal

Radiation damage has resulted in several issues with my esophagus.  The most physically obvious, is difficulty swallowing.  This gets somewhat relieved following my annual endoscopy, only to return.  The I have something called a Venker’s diverticulum.  It is a flap in my weakened esophagus that traps particles of food, which decay, and get inhaled into my lungs.  This has resulted in two cases of aspiration pneumonia, with one case reaching septic levels.  And then there is the diagnosis of “Barrett’s Esophagus”, which leads to an increased risk of developing esophageal cancer.  Combined with severe reflux, and these risks are quite high.

Miscellaneous

There are minor, “lol”, if you want to call them minor, at least in comparison to all the big things I deal with, chemotherapy left me sterile.  There is some hair that never grew back from radiation damage.  And I have a frequent issue with unexplained bleeding.

Emotional

I battle “Survivor’s Guilt”.  That’s right, guilt for surviving cancer, for surviving my late effect issues.  Wondering and waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Fortunately, because I am an advocate for my own care, I am not afraid to challenge a doctor to order a certain test, explain to me in detail every aspect of my care.

My issues cannot be reversed, only managed.  And that is how I survive.  So now you know what I deal with each and every day.  Now you know why it is difficult as I say farewell to another long term survivor.  This is why I struggle with news of patients not being properly followed up and also passing away.

So now, I am closing the book again.  And as long as I can help it, you will still only see the cover.  But that does not change what is written in the pages inside.  I must take care every day to prevent exposure.  I must make sure that I do not physically stress  my body to cause any kind of injury with my increased risk.  But that is a burden I place on myself, no one else.

But like the post I wrote about the classes of survivors, this is why I consider myself in the third class.

Up next, the project that I have been working on for several months.  The post is coming up next.

Understanding Pain And Temperature


1453745659192

Unless you have spent any time in the deep south, the following statement is probably going to be met with a major “eye roll” and a comment under the breath, “yeah, right,” but waking up to 43 degrees was not only cold, not only painful, but also reminded me of a condition that I have not had to deal with in over two years since I moved to Florida.

1453745715039 1453745813469

The picture on the left shows the remnants of winter storm Jonas, with an actual amount of 31.9 inches of snow.  I missed this storm living in Florida.  But in the picture on the right, the second most snowfall occurred back in 1983, which I was a senior in high school.  The remaining three storms like this, were following my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and the last two following heart surgery.

Why do I bring this up?

Treatments from over 25 years ago have left me dealing with some late issues with my body that developed over time.  During cold temperatures, I am reminded of one of those issues.

I cannot recall exactly how my lungs felt prior to my heart surgery in 2008, but I do know that following my surgery, my temperature tolerance dropped about 10 degrees.  Up in the north, I learned to deal with this issue by wearing wool over my mouth and nose, and wearing extra clothes to stay warm.  When did I have to start doing this?  Once the temperature went below 60 degrees.  My cooler weather apparel was often met with mockery, and only those who deal with similar issues can know what I was physically feeling.

The first thing that hits me is breathing in the cold air.  The only way to describe the feeling is that my lungs instantly freeze up solid like a brick.  Your lungs need to expand, and my lungs will not.  My current lung capacity has been measured at 76% from progress damage due to radiation therapy.  In fact, the lower lobe of my left lung is completely “dead”.  The only way for me to get relief, since inhalers do not work, is to get into a warm environment as soon as possible.  The “thawing” out of my lungs if you will, can take up to about a half an hour, possibly more.

But in the meantime, two other issues appear once the cold hits my lungs.  I often begin to have an anxiety attack, at the panic of my restrictive lung disease.  And with that, my breathing becomes even more difficult, the anxiety gets worse, and then the pain hits.  Again, the best way to describe the feeling, is my muscles, especially in my back and hips “constrict” like a boa constrictor is squeezing me.  Again, there is no relief other than thawing out.

My late developing issues from treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma are progressive.  There is only one thing I can do, and that is “manage”.  There is no cure, no reversing what has happened to my body.  My moving to Florida I thought would have helped with this particular issue.  But recently, our weather has turned colder down here.  No, I know I will never volunteer for sub-freezing temps again, or major snowfalls, so I will state that my friends and family in the north will deal with much worse when it comes to cold temperatures.  But for me, 43 is cold enough to remind me what my body has gone through, and still has to deal with.

Post Navigation