Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Family and Friends”

There Will Never Be Another


If you have ever owned a pet before, then I am sure that you will echo this statement, “the best ever,” in describing your fur family member.  And there is no doubt in my proclamation for my friend that is shown above.  A great family friend to both of my daughters, and just so lovable to anyone who wanted to pet him.  He was described by many as “they happy golden” because of his constant smile and wagging tail.

Like many, I am a sucker when it comes to animal movies, especially when they involve dogs.  Growing up, we had Old Yeller, Benji, Cujo, okay, maybe that last one was not meant for the kids.  But in the last few years, we were hit with several tearjerkers about the joys and sorrows of sharing your life with a fur friend.

And that is exactly the order that I watched them.  A Dog’s Purpose.  The Art Of Racing In The Rain.  A Dog’s Journey.

A Dog’s Purpose dealt with the hopes that maybe we might be reunited with our fur friend, long before meeting at the Rainbow Bridge (also known as Heaven).  The dog, nicknamed “boss dog,” goes through various reincarnations all with the hopes of being reunited with his original owner.  The catch?  His owner thinks that he will never see his friend again.  What an awesome thought.

I said goodbye to my best friend nearly six years ago.  He lived nearly 15 years, almost unheard of for a golden retriever.  But as I said, his nickname was “the happy golden,” and allowing him to be “just a dog” gave me the best decade and a half of my life second to my daughters being adopted.  I have so many memories with him.  In the end, he let me know it was time.

But in A Dog’s Purpose, how would “boss dog” get his original owner to recognize him, especially if he came back as a different animal, breed, or even gender?  I have found myself wondering that exact thing.  Just as in the movie, there was just something about the dog, in his fourth or fifth reincarnation, I honestly forget, something that would make his original human family, realize it was actually him.  Could Pollo do that to me as well?  What were some of the things that he did, that no matter who he would come back as, would be the sign, that it was definitely him?

A Dog’s Journey was a continuation of the story, but now “boss dog’s” purpose was a bit different.  Sorry, no spoiler alert, but the ending could not have been more perfect.  Yes, I do hope I do not have to wait until that day at the Rainbow Bridge to be reunited with him.

Then came The Art Of Racing in The Rain.  While the other two movies gave me hopes that some day I would see my fur friend again, The Art gave me a whole appreciation for the relationship that I had with him while he was alive.  Again, I will not give anything away about the movie, perhaps the best “dog” movie I have seen.  But the dog, narrating the movie with Kevin Costner’s gruff voice was perfect, gave the dog a human quality about him throughout the movie.  The pooch had feelings, concern, empathy, all the feelings that we have as humans.  And just as we have these emotions for each other as humans, to see it portrayed through a dog made me look back at my own life with Pollo.

I could narrate Pollo’s life story from puppy to the end.  From his first swim to the infamous “humpy bear”, a stuffed toy that was the only thing he would hump, thankfully.  But just as my daughters, Pollo witnessed many of the difficult times in my life.  And if Pollo would narrate his story, along with all the trips we took, walks we enjoyed, and bringing in two small humans into his life, he would also be able to express what he was thinking and feeling when it came to emergencies with me.

In 2008, I had to have emergency open heart surgery for a quickly approaching fatal condition.  Pollo and I had never been apart from each other, but I spent nearly a week recovering from the surgery.  One of my biggest fears, was that I would walk through my front door, and get the normal excited jump and pounce greeting from my 105 pound golden.  Instead, while his tail was wagging, and he had his patented smile, he stayed on all fours and just approached my side, leaning up against me.  For the next several days, he would spend his time either laying next me while I sat on the couch, or his favorite position, sitting in front of me, with his head resting on my knee, staring at me.  Looking back, I wonder what he could have been thinking.  According to the movie, he certainly could have been.

In 2012, I was rolled out of my home, in the early hours of the morning, on an ambulance stretcher, again, with another fatal possible situation.  There was another couple days away from Pollo in the hospital, and as he was now approximately thirteen, unable to jump himself, but the tail and his smile was there when I came in through the door.  What could have been going through that night I was taken out of the house?  Or when I came back.  There should be an answer according to the movie.

But in the Fall of 2013, Pollo let me know it was time.  It was something that I had asked him to do.  I was too selfish to let him go.  And as long as his tail wagged, and he had his smile, I was not letting him go.  It was definitely one of the harder moments of my life.  And though my daughters constantly let me know that I need to have another dog, some day, I have told them that I am not sure how.  If I were, I would need to make sure it was not going to be subject to be compared to Pollo.  It was going to be its own being.  But if I believe in A Dog’s Purpose, would it be its own?  What if it could be Pollo coming back to me?  How would I know?  How would I even have the chance, if I do not take that chance?

Until that time comes, if it comes, I have so many memories, photos, stories of my friend.  And as long as Hollywood keeps coming out with movies about dogs and giving them the human qualities like my fur friend had, who knows?

I still miss you my friend.

Chemo – Day One, Part 2


The following is a continuation of my series, recognizing my 30th year as a Hodgkin’s Lymphoma Survivor.  This post subject matter includes dealing with nausea, something that we had no help with thirty years ago.  Whereas today, nausea is often no longer an issue because of how it is controlled.

With the IV placed into my arm, quite easily I might add, Brenda, my chemotherapy nurse would now turn her attention to the tray to my right.  There were many syringes on this tray, some filled with saline to help “flush” the line feeding my veins, four other syringes filled with the half of the treatment cocktail, that would hopefully save my life.

Before I go further, I want to recognize the oncology nurse.  I wrote in an earlier post, about the lack of empathy from my former oncologist, and the excuse being given to me, “how much ‘death’ he has to deal with each patient, along with his other patients.”  Brenda, as do every other oncology nurse, was going to be spending the next several hours with me, knowingly injecting toxic medications into my veins, over a period of months.  During all of my treatments, Brenda and I would have many discussions, some cancer related, some general conversations, and others directed toward emotions.  Looking back, I have so much respect for Brenda and all of the other oncology nurses, because it is they who deal with the every day events of the patients.  They are the ones that put their emotions at risk, exposing themselves to feelings and concerns.  They are the ones who really deal with both the successes and losses of a cancer patient.

I could see the expression on Brenda’s face.  My case was too close to home for her, as she had a son around my age.  While I never had any doubt that she would give me the best care she could, her mentioning her son to me, as well as the teariness in her eyes, I knew she was going to take really good care of me.

To be honest, I do not recall the order of the drugs given to me.  And the only thing I recall is that I knew she had to take care with one of the drugs as far as delivery, slow enough not to blow out the vein.  Though I had my headphones one, I would turn the volume down to allow me to hear what the next instructions would be.

The first drug injected into me, was horrific.  Not from a pain standpoint, but it was a drug that I could taste, and from my veins that made no sense to me.  It was a metallic taste, and it was nauseating.  One side note, we did not get any kind of medicine to help with nausea back in 1989.  I was about to be dealing with the one side effect I had seen played out on TV and movie screens.   Brenda could tell I was uncomfortable with that particular infusion, and assured me that it would not last after it was finished.

At that point, I just came right out and asked, “so how much time will I have before I puke my guts up?”

She told me that I should expect to make it home in time following the end of the treatment.  Though after how that drug made me feel, I was not too sure.  I had a “barf” bag on me, just in case.

I turned my music back up, and put myself mentally into a place, where I could use that imaging technique, to actually picture the chemotherapy, attacking the cancer cells.  Stunning them, knocking them silly, as the next drug to be delivered would be another solid jab to my cancer.  I would not taste this drug, but I was warned by Brenda, that it would like make me pee “red.”  Not to confuse it with blood.

Again, I turned the music louder, this time, wanting to drown out any more directions from Brenda.  Because each time she wanted to talk to me, she took me from the “place” that I needed to be, to tolerate what was happening.  I would get through the remaining two infusions without even realizing it.  Three and half hours after I arrived, I was finished with my first treatment.

I lived only twenty minutes from the oncology office, without any traffic.  So far, I was not feeling any wave of nausea that I had been dreading.  It was going to happen.  I made it home, and climbed three flights of stairs to my apartment, now fumbling for my key to the door.  “It” was coming!  And fast!  I finally got the key into the lock, turned it, opened the door.  I tore off my jacket, dropping it onto the floor, and raced toward the bathroom, just fifteen feet away, down the hall from the door.

And that is where I would be for the next half hour.  It had been just as I had viewed in the movies and on the television.  Once everything had been brought up, my body still felt the need to vomit, but it could not.  That did not stop it from trying, which is called dry heaving.  I was exhausted.  My stomach muscles felt as if I had done 10,000 situps.

As I lifted my head up, reached for a hand towel above to clean myself up, I saw a figure out of the corner of my my left eye.

It was my cat, Pebbles.  She was adopted back before I went through my radiation therapy.  Apartment regulations would not allow a dog, which is what I really wanted.  But, they did allow cats.  Because of my belief in the power of “pet therapy,” and its relation to healing, Pebbles would eventually be described as my chemo cat because of the care she would give me, once I got done in the bathroom.

I honestly believe animals know when we are not feeling well.  And she really did look confused as to the way I was using the toilet.  But as I stood up, washed up, I then made my way to my bedroom, totally worn out.  I climbed into my bed, fully clothed but now shivering, either from being cold, or from feeling so weak from what I just experienced.  Pebbles jumped up on the bed with me, and laid down on top of the pillow next to me, my wife’s pillow, until she would come home from work.  Strange as it may seem, it made me feel safe, that someone was watching over me.

A True Miracle And A Happy Ending


Forget the Carpenters and the Boomtown Rats.  I am going to make your Monday with today’s post.

I did not realize when I decided to do this story, what today was on the calendar.  As it turns out, it was five years ago that I introduced Stephanie, a very young Hodgkin’s Lymphoma survivor and her incredible story, to Paul’s Heart.  I intend to keep this post the uplifting message I want it to be.  So if you want to see just where Stephanie started in her Hodgkin’s journey, click on the following link:

Stephanie’s Words

Stephanie’s Words (pictures included)

This is the first chapter written by and about my fellow survivor from my home state back in Pennsylvania.  I had known about Stephanie through her mother, and had asked her to put into her own words, what she went through, and share her story on “Paul’s Heart.”  That was five years ago today, that story was told.

A month later, I shared an update about Stephanie, as she had reached her 3rd year in remission.  As anyone who has faced cancer can tell you, the calendar can be cruel as we watch day after day go by, with us checking off, another day down, further away from cancer.  Hoping for the time, that our fight against cancer is no longer a thought in the front of our memories.

Stephanie’s Words – Update

Stephanie’s Words – Update (pictures included)

The next chapter would was when Stephanie hit the magic mark, 5 years!  We shared the amount of family support that Stephanie had not only during her battle against Hodgkin’s, but in survivorship also.

https://pedelmanjr.com/?s=A+celebration+for+stephanie

A Celebration For Stephanie (pictures included)

As with many Hodgkin’s patients, especially the younger ones, we are dealing with or at the least in the planning stages of what was our normal progressive plan in life, one of the happiest times in our lives, while dealing with one of the darkest times.  Admittedly, getting married, as big a dream as it may be, takes second place to just wanting to get through this battle against cancer.  And a year and a half ago, Stephanie was not just well past her five year mark, but she got married.  And this was not just a wedding.  Stephanie married the same gentleman who had stayed by her side, her entire journey.

Go back and read these stories after reading this post.  Truly appreciate the miracle I am going to share with you.  And Stephanie can tell you, I have been very excited to share this news.

Probably the biggest concern for a young Hodgkin’s patient/survivor, is having a family.  And with that, I present the happy ending to Stephanie’s Words… a baby boy!!!!!

Cancer is one of the cruelest and most uncertain challenges we can face in life.  But we can never give up hope.  There are happy endings to many stories, and this is just one that I have been blessed to know about personally.  I know Stephanie’s mother and one of her sisters, and Stephanie’s son is not only a miraculous fairy tale, but will be smothered in family love from both the mother and father’s families.

And I know that there are several other “young” Hodgkin’s readers seeing this post.  Miracles can happen.  Stephanie is just one of many.  But now you can see one with your own eyes.

Congratulations to Stephanie and her family.

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