Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Food”

Running Out Of Summer Memories


I have a lot more Summers behind me, than I have ahead of me. Memories that I have of Summers in my youth are only slightly more than the photos I have as pictured above, not many of those either. I recall this little hard plastic shell pool, filled up with garden hose water. Once school age, I graduated to the town swimming pool, eventually learning to swim and jump off the high diving board (and learn the hard way what a “belly flop” was).

(picture from Google pics)

The other frequent activity during the Summer was the weekly trip to Shankweiler’s Drive-in to see a double-feature movie. Since it is likely that noone after Gen-X has any idea what this was like, allow me to describe it. You park your car in front of a giant movie screen. There were likely two movies being shown; a younger age-appropriate movie, then a movie for the older crowds, the first starting once it was dark enough. You hung a two pound speaker on your car window for everyone in the car to hear the sound, or as others did, simply set up lawn chairs or sat on the back of a pick-up or station wagon. In between the movies, there was a rush to the bathrooms, the refreshment stand, and to the playground directly below the screen. You were a real boss if you stayed awake for the entire second movie, and had enough mosquito bites to “connect the dots” with a Sharpie.

Toward the end of my youth, my Summers were spent working. One of the best seasonal jobs for teens was a local amusement park. I spent a lot of visits at Dorney Park as a child, and it was a totally different experience operating the games and rides. But still, I had so many memories. I just do not have a lot of photos.

There would be even less photos in my twenties, as my life was interrupted by a cancer diagnosis, Hodgkin’s Lympoma. There was no social media or internet at the time, so there was no desire or behavior to take pictures. There were two weddings over the next decade and a half, but as they both ended in divorce, those are pictures that won’t get posted. Besides, other than the weddings, my Summers were spent working, especially overtime, no need for pictures of that.

But with parenthood, came a new approach to Summers, and a lot more photos, much to my daughters chagrines. For the last twenty years, although I had worked many hours during the first ten years, my memories are as clear as the photos that I put together in photo album number one (500 photos).

We took trips to the beach, travelled to various places. I even pulled off the ultimate trip, to a “super Con”, where my daughters got to meet some of their favorite Manga characters. It should be noted, I also got to meet some celebrities in attendance as well, such as the original Karate Kid, Ralph Machio, pro Wrestler, Jerry Lawler, and the one and only Incredible Hulk, Lou Ferrigno.

But as much fun as I could pack into the two months of Summer break for my daughters, there was one thing I felt was important to be done, every Summer. It was not fun, well, not really, but necessary. In full transparency, I did not have a lot of support with school, just a reaction when I would flash my report card (again, for millenials and Gen-Z, these were paper copies of the grades that were sent home each marking period). I really had no role model for how to parent my children during the Summer breaks. But as my daughters were both good and hard working students, my fear would be during the Summer, if there were not some sort of learning exercises, even just fifteen minutes per day, that could lead to some habits making it hard to get back into the groove once the Fall rolled around.

Each year during the Summer, every day, usually during the time I would be getting ready for us to go out, I had my daughters complete a few worksheets of exercises from reading to math and other learning opportunities. It wasn’t tedious or boring. Most importantly, it kept them in the habit of “learning.”

Those workbooks stopped being a “thing” around the beginning of middle school. And as my daughters got older, while we enjoyed our Summers with each other, I felt it became more important for me to start sharing things that they would need to learn as they got older, to prepare them for adulthood. Again, not having the typical examples set for me to learn responsibility, I had in my head things that I felt were important for them to learn, such as learning to save money, budget, and prioritize needs and wants. I wanted to make sure that as they came of dating age, that they “took care of themselves” from a hygiene point of view and more importantly, what to expect of anyone interested in having a relationship with them. I wanted them to learn money management, responsibility, and decision making. I took opportunities to have them learn first aid, visit historical museums, and volunteer visiting animals in shelters.

There are no bigger opportunities for decision making than they have as adults now. With the custody order officially closed due to both aging out, they alone are now the ones who make the decisions to visit me here in Florida. They know they constant reference to “Cats In The Cradle” by Harry Chapin, and were are now at the point of their college tenure, balanced with working during breaks, and spending time with the tri-fecta package of mother/father/friends with any available time. I have made it clear, as I have warned them that their “free” time was going to be even less these days, and I know that time would have to be shared in many directions. I asked both only one thing, something that has really become a tradition, and emphasized to them even more important than spending holidays, if at all possible, all efforts made to spend Father’s Day with each other, as we have done every year (with the exception of two years that were beyond my control and will not be discussed in this post). It is just now, instead of spending most of the Summer following the weekend of Father’s Day with me, I have taken as much pressure off of them, and asked only a few days of that holiday weekend. Any other time of the year, we will make arrangements as we can, based on schedules, and likely even split between both my daughters as their schedules will not always align.

But there is one final thing that I did need to discuss with my “now adult” daughters, while I had them in front of me, not to be discussed over the phone or by text messaging. My daughters are aware of my health history, part of which they have read about in my book, “Paul’s Heart – Life As A Dad And A 35-Year Cancer Survivor” and my history with cancer, but it has been the second half of their life, that they have personally witnessed the many episodes of ill health I have faced due to the treatments from my cancer. For years, they have been told by many close to them, that I was “fine,” in clear contrast to what they were being told by me. In recent years, and even in spite of Covid19 policies, through Facetime, my daughters were able to be with me during my 3rd heart surgery, to replace my aortic valve. My daughters know my health is far from “fine,” and those who try to convince my daughters otherwise in an attempt to portray me to their advantage are only hurting their relationships with my daughters.

My daughters know I have legal documents in place as to my “living directives,” what will happen to me, should I be unable to decide my medical care for myself, but my wishes stated in writing and certified. But there was one thing I needed to discuss with them. A recent visit and CT scan, has led to a new level of an old concern that I have been aware of for sixteen years. There is a new term being used in the results of that scan, besides the characteristics continuing to have changed, “adenocarcinoma” (cancer) is now being mentioned in my report on my one lung. Though the circumstances behind their grandfather dying from lung cancer (a smoker), and a nodule on my lung (likely from radiation treatments 35 years ago), I wanted to have the discussion with them in person so that they could see, that currently, adenocarcinoma is just a word being used, and the type, unlike my father’s cancer, is a slow enough developing cancer, that it is quite possible nothing may be done with it, that my mortality would have an end due to a different issue before this cancer would have any impact. But my daughters would hear everything from me, not what “others” wanted to tell them.

Sure, hearing the word “cancer” is scary whether you are the patient, family, or friend. I knew of this news for a couple of months, trying to figure how I would discuss this with my daughters, knowing that hearing “lung cancer” would detour their thoughts to their grandfather. My situation is completely different, and right now, manageable.

No, not the way I had planned our last Summer together of the final phase of their childhoods, but I definitely feel a lot better knowing the heads that they have on their shoulders are more thoughtful, empathetic, and definitely have learned that the things they are doing today, are going to lead to opportunities tomorrow.

All too often, non-custodial parents, usually fathers, are referred to as “Disney Dads,” a really bad stereotype, implying that since the parent is allowed only minimal time with their child, it is always spent doing “fun” things like going to amusement parks, or the beach, not doing any of the hard stuff. Not only did I find this term offensive when I first heard it, I fought any attempt and opportunity to level that claim at me. The truth is, to this day, regardless of how much time I get to spend with my daughters, and in the future with my daughters, I have not changed. I am still about memories and lessons as I know they are not far away from the next phases of their lives, serious relationships and personal responisibilities. They will hit the ground running once they graduate college and hopefully secure good jobs, remember the things that I taught them, and then live their own “cats in the cradle” lives. My second photo album of 500 photos has already begun being filled, and will hopefully include more faces in the future.

Pigs Root Forward, Chickens Scratch Backward


Every year my mother will call me on New Year’s Day and ask, “so are you going to have your pork and sauerkraut for New Year’s Day?” My answer is always the same as it has been as long as I can remember, “no.” Well, at least the sauerkraut part anyway. I have no idea what the smelly crap is let alone barely able to spell it. There is no way that is getting into my belly. As a kid, I simply ate the pork, and lots of mashed potatoes that were also made, and some applesauce. But sauerkraut? Not a chance.

I am sure that I am not alone in remembering what it was like to have family traditions growing up, the days long gone, likely after the passing of grandparents who were the backbones of such traditions. We did not ask “why”, we just did. My family heritage consists mainly of Native American and “Pennsylvania Dutch.” Pennsylvania Dutch, also known as Pennsylvania German settled in the US from Germany back in the 1600’s. As I am aware of some French background as well, I believe that my maternal grandmother’s background is from the French region of Alsace-Lorraine. 

The P.D. had their own language and amazing recipes, sadly, which neither has been passed down to future generations. I remember some of the language, which was usually only spoken when my elders did not want me to understand what they were saying. Though, when the voice was raised, the eyebrows crossed, and a finger was pointed at me, it did not matter what language was being used. I knew that it was not good.

But my grandmother made so many good foods, well other than those that were “pickled”. A Pennsylvania Dutch diet is not a healthy one, a lot of fatty fried foods, but the food was always “plain,” not seasoned really. Perhaps that is what always appealed to me. The thing I learned about many Pennsylvania Dutch, is food does not go to waste. And I am not talking just the leftovers (mashed potatoes were routinely made into potato pancakes at another meal). But the body parts of the animals were eaten. I could not watch some of the things my elders would eat, such as tongue, livers, etc.

There was one particular delicacy that would not only turn my stomach, but the smell when prepared would linger in the house for days, was something called “chow chow.” To those that enjoy vegetables, this concoction is PACKED with all kinds of vegetables. It is when vinegar that gets added, and this “relish” is prepared, produces a nausea in me worse than a newborn’s diaper filled with diarrhea. Seriously, many of us had to leave the house when my grandmother made this stuff because the smell was so bad. Yet, many enjoy this side dish. I am just not one of those.

Sauerkraut is also one of things I avoid. But all through my childhood, pork and sauerkraut was the meal of the day for New Year’s Day. So, why was/is this meal so important? I never questioned it. But my mother last year decided to ask me if I knew why, which of course I didn’t.

“You don’t eat bird on New Year’s Day because chickens “scratch” backwards. Pigs “root” forward. It is a new year. We go forward, not backward. Also, as the chickens fly away, all good luck flies away with the feathers.” So, to be clear, sauerkraut is shredded cabbage, of course pickled. Another thing believed, was that you wished as much fortune as the strands of cabbage in the sauerkraut.

As I said, I do not eat sauerkraut. I cannot stand the smell of it. But one odd thing for those who do sauerkraut, how do you eat that stuff after a night of consuming mass amounts of alcohol the night before to celebrate the new year, hung over the next day? I witnessed someone doing that. It was both entertaining and gross, if you know what I mean.

In any case, I want to wish everyone reading “Paul’s Heart,” a very happy, healthy, and prosperous new year. I have some hopeful plans for my book, including speaking engagements, book signings, and some sort of video media perhaps like a Youtube channel, whichever enables me to reach more people in support of cancer survivorship, those struggling with parental alienation, patient advocacy, and adoption issues.

Happy New Year! And be safe. See you in 2024.

Catharsis


I write for many reasons. It helps me to keep things organized in my life. Things that I write about help me to remember. I hope that many of the things that I share, inspire, provide hope, cause laughter, or provide comfort and familiarity. Writing is also cathartic.

The release that I get, from putting my thoughts down in a blog, in a diary, or as I have just finally completed, a book, is not only therapeutic, but more times than not, provided me relief when I needed it most. As I tell many, if you do not have a therapist, writing down your thoughts is just as good because it gives you the chance to process your thoughts again.

I am in a strange place right now in my mind, several things at the forefront, coming up in the next week or so. My younger daughter is about to start her freshman year of college, joining her sister now in her sophomore year, a time I never thought I would live to see. I am approaching bi-annual medical follow-ups for all of my health issues, with always the “what if’s” in the back of my mind. And having finished writing my first book, called “Paul’s Heart – Life As A Dad And A 35-Year Cancer Survivor,” as I edit the book, I am coming to a bigger realization, and more than just catharsis.

A therapist I saw back in the days that I was treated for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma often accused me of not recognizing the gravity or seriousness of what I was going through. I knew she was right, but I would still try to convince her that I was taking it seriously. But the truth was, for me to recognize how serious everything was, I would have to recognize and accept my mortality, which was in jeopardy. I felt my mind was in the right way of thinking, that I would get through my cancer. There was also the fact, that I knew that others had it way worse than I did. Some might not even survive. I was not planning on that fate. So no, I would not let myself take this episode in my life so seriously, because I expected to be fine.

Even as I wrote the book, chapter by chapter, as I recalled every detail, I still do not feel I saw how serious everything was that I went through. Sure, I knew all the dangers and crisis that I went through, and just as my therapist reminded me daily back then, it still did not hit me.

Now, with the book complete, I have read the whole thing in its entirety, although for the first time as an opportunity to do a final edit, several times. It has taken four decades, and being able to read through the entire manuscript, all the time periods and details, I can acknowledge just how difficult and dangerous many of the periods of my life really were.

For someone to pass by me on the street, without knowing me, would have no idea of the journey that I had taken over the last thirty-five years, the toxicity that I was exposed to with my treatments, and the health emergencies that I survived. But when you get the chance to read my book, soon I am hoping, I really did go through everything in the book. I may have made it look easy, I may have made myself “think” it was easy, but for the first time, I will say, it was far from easy.

My fight against cancer was hard, and not just my hard head fighting against me and the efforts to treat me. The unknown of what survivorship would bring, from discrimination to one health crisis after another, late developing side effects from my treatments, nearly as fatal as my fight against cancer, starting each day with uncertainty. The pressures of life and stress along with expectations and interference of others served as unnecessary and unwanted distractions. The fear of being the source of loss for the most important people in my life, knowing that my days of uncertainty and survivorship are not guaranteed.

I have no regrets about the decisions I made back in 1988 nor that I make today. Everything I do or write, are with the intentions of seeing another tomorrow, and are part of that plan.

I will continue to write here on “Paul’s Heart,” as I still have nearly 300 stories that I began to write and put to the side, and have many more to go. I will take a little time and then begin my second book. I am actually planning three more.

This is how I deal. Yes, some close to me cringe how open I am with my posts. But as I will never discover anything earth shattering or come up with a cure for something, if my words can make a difference to at least one, then this was all worth it.

Post Navigation