Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

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Does Size Really Matter? – Deciding On A Health Facility


Memorial Sloan Kettering.  The Mayo Clinic.  MD Anderson.  University Of Pennsylvania.  The list goes on and on for the top hospitals when it comes to cancer treatments.  There is a different list of facilities when it comes to heart surgeries, pulmonary issues, and so on.  Many of our nations “best” hospitals are “teaching” hospitals, meaning that they are more likely to have the current diagnostic tools and treatments available.

I have taken quite a few moments to decide what hospitals to be taken too, of course ulitmately, I am at the hands of my wife to honor my wishes.  The closest hospital to us just also happens to be the last hospital in the world I would ever want to be taken to.  It has the worst reputation for cleanliness and sterility, in other words, you have a fairly good chance of going home with MRSA.  The longer you stay in that hospital, the better the chances of contracting MRSA.  So it is not necessarily a good thing if a hospital keeps you longer to recover from whatever took you there.  The reason that my wife insists on taking me there?  It is the only way that my daughters would be able to come and visit with me as transportation time alone would be an additional hour and a half.  On a school night forget it with having homework.  So, in that regard, I appreciate being local.  It is a smaller hospital, which recently had been bought out by a larger network, still not on the national level, but the buyout has been expected to improve the quality of the local facility.  I am just not sure that it has.

When I dealt with my Hodgkin’s Disease, I was not really aware of all of the “big” network and teaching hospitals available to me.  I did believe that if I were to go to any of them, besides the great distance, I was not sure that they could give me emotionally what I was going to need, that I would be treated just as a number.  Personally, I needed more than that.  The doctor that I chose worked out of a small network, but more importantly, as all cancer patients probably had the oppportunity for this, I knew a patient personally that he cured, my grandmother.  Granted, she was treated for breast cancer, but he saved her life, he could save mine.  The big risk I took by doing this, he was an older doctor, so there was a chance that I would be treated with older modes of treatment and not the most current available.  But I believed that if I had the confidence in him, I would have confidence in the medicine, and that would get me through.

At various points in my life, I would end up in the hospital and always felt comfortable with the hospital that I grew up near.  It has become quite the network and one of the best in the country.  So when I had some uncontrollable bleeding from an area that no man ever wants to see blood coming from, it was only natural that I went to that hospital.  When it was determined that it was not cancer or cardiac related (yes, blood in the urine can be attributed to a valve issue with the heart), but rather a kidney stone, how quickly that stone situation got resolved depended on where the roaming kidney stone unit was and what day.  Yes, hospitals in my area do not have their own “lithotripsy” machine.  The first time that it would be back at this hospital would be in approximately two weeks, however, it was going to be back in town the coming Tuesday at a hospital that I swore I would never set foot in ever again.  My grandmother had passed away in that hospital, and while it was not their fault as to the cause of death, I did have a problem with their methods of convincing people the importance of extending their terminal lives at the expense of their dignity.  As far as I was concerned, this hospital tortured my grandmother during her dying days.

But for anyone who has ever had a kidney stone, or gall stone for that matter, no one will deny the pain level to drive a six foot 300 pound giant of a human being into a fetal position in pure pain, than a 4mm stone.  I needed to have this resolved before the stone set to travel from my kidney.  I was going to have to have the lithotripsy (shock-waving the kidney stone into obliteration), at this hospital.

Now let me tell you about how small this hospital is.  I was the first scheduled appointment that Tuesday morning.  Now remember, this is a fully functioning hospital.  It also evidently has hours of operation.  So the security guard unlocks the door at 5:30am precisely, and I am already third in line.  I cannot see what is happening, but I do see a lot of head-shaking.  Just like that, I am called to the receptionist and begin my admission, or the process that the hospital will be using in place of that procedure.  You see, when I offered them my driver’s license and insurance card, they told me that their computers were not operating.  They did not state if it was expected to be a long drawn out process or not.  I stated that I had a 5:30 procedure scheduled so it was urgent that I be registered and they offered to make a photo copy of my indentification.  Fifteen seconds later the woman behind the desk came back and said that their copying machine was not functioning either.

Did I mention that I did not want to be in this hospital in the first place?  And so, without any identification, which I had to store in a locker while I was in for the lithotripsy, I was escorted into a room, where I would be anesthetized, with no identification, no hospital bracelet, nothing.  And so, the procedure went on, because I could not risk returning to the state of pain that the pea-sized stone had been causing me.  And to add insult to injury, they actually allowed me to sign myself out of the hospital later that morning, totally unattended.

I realize that the last example was an extreme case.  But it did happen.  And I went against my gut feeling in being treated at this hospital.  I got lucky compared to how this episode could have turned out.

My heart surgery, that was a totally different story.  I happened to be at that hospital in a connected doctor’s office.  I was already there, but I was already aware that the hospital had a good reputation.  But even that reputation is limited when it comes to long term cancer treatment effects.

When I found out, that I was not done with my cancer history, I had the major decision to make.  And it did not even come down to the biggest hospital or the hospital that made me feel all snuggly and warm.  I needed a network that had history, studied long term side effects.  My prior posts have gone into great detail on just how urgent my decisions can be.

As you can see, it all depends on the situation, do you go with the big network or the little hospital.  Does size really matter?  To some it does, to others, it’s what you do with what you know.

February 1, 2013


Happy Anniversary Wendy.

It is our 11th Wedding Anniversary today.  The average married couple if they remembered their anniversary would probably exchange a gift or two, giving a card, a dinner, and perhaps a little personal time.  It was sort of supposed to go that way today, even though it was going to be spent in Manhattan at Sloan Kettering Memorial for yet another consult.

It did not go as planned as our youngest came down with a seasonal bug, so Wendy stayed behind to care for her, and I made the road trip alone.  After two years, I am fine tuning my travel trying to find the most efficient means of travel yet being fiscally aware.  Today I drove to Hamiliton, NJ and got the train into NYC and back.  This shaved about an hour each way off of my travel time.

I am not sure what the issue that is getting the main attention right now.  Though the latest chest xray says that my latest bout with pneumonia is over, I still feel like crap.  An email from one of my doctors informs me that I still have only half the immunity against pneumonia in spite of my latest bout.  That unfortunately will mean more vaccines.  Yuk!!  In fact, as some new thing is taking over, I am wondering is it going to develop into pneumonia.

I arrived home early enough to take Wendy and the girls out to dinner, try and salvage our anniversary.  Unfortunately, each year seems to bring more and more health challenges to me, and each year, I must fight harder and harder to show that I am still a functioning human being.  The next couple of days do not bode well for me keeping things romanticly entangled as I was out campaigning for our local school board the next day, the Super Bowl on Sunday, and then her birthday on the 4th.  The next day I am to have another test, a barrium swallow to confirm the need to do an endoscopy which would be done with a colonoscopy, hey!, just in time for Valentine’s Day complete with overnight accomodations in NYC.  Romantic indeed.

Such as the life of a long term cancer survivor.

Jennifer’s Story


One of the first things that I wanted to do once I was done with my chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s Disease, was to find some way to “give back” to that which saved my life.  I never studied to be an oncologist, so that was out.  The American Cancer Society had been rolling out a relatively new program called Cansurmount.  Cansurmount was a “peer to peer” program that matched cancer patients by type of cancer as well as other factors such as age and gender.  The goal was to help patients deal with their illness by realizing that others had gone through it before themselves.  There was training involved which mostly involved learning to listen, listen real well.  Patients needed two things, one more so than the other.  The thing that cancer patients needed was to be heard by someone who understood what they were going through.  I know I personally dislike the expression “I know what you must be going through.”  No, you do not.  The second thing needed, is empathy, to be told the way that they feel is normal, and to be inspired by me, an actual survivor.

Having completed the training course, I was good to go.  In just a few short days, I had been given my first patient.  Her name was Jennifer, a 14 year-old student with Hodgkin’s Disease just like myself.  As I read through the profile, I thought to myself, “this won’t be bad at all”.  But then I got to the prognosis, which I was not prepared for, “terminal.”  I could not believe it.  Right from the gate, I was given a child who had nearly the same cancer as me, only she was going to die from it.  I had barely come to terms with my Hodgkin’s, and only recently celebrated my remission, but had to reign it in when I met with Jennifer and her family.

I met with Jennifer’s mother first to tell her what Cansurmount was all about, and then, who I was and what I had been through.  She never did ask me, how soon my Hodgkin’s Disease had been discovered to allow me to go into remission, when her daughter, only aged 14, would die from it?  There was not one visit that did not occur when the thought “why her, and not me?” did not go through my head, or wonder if her mother felt that way.  This is called “Survivor Guilt”.  It is something that I have carried with me over 22 years now.

My visits were weekly and lasted anywhere between a half hour to an hour.  Most of the times, it was Jennifer’s mother asking me questions, still looking for any kind of hope that things would turn out differently for her daughter.  Jennifer barely said more than “Hi” to me.  We just sat there, watching whatever television show she had on at the time.  This routine would go on for months.  At times, I would forget, that Jennifer was not going to survive.  She had not been told of her worsening condition.  She was only told of things when she was going through treatments or doctor appointments. 

She would celebrate her 15th and 16th birtdays.  For her condition to be terminal, this was taking a long time.  But there are different types of Hodgkin’s Disease and there are different types of growth.  Jennifer’s was the slower growing type.  For Jennifer’s 16th birthday, she had made a very unusual request.  Though she had not been in school for a very long time, she longed for her vo-tech education.  This was the year she was supposed to learn to drive the fork-lift.  I do not recall her talking about her prom as more treatments were beginning to take their tole on Jennifer.

By Jennifer’s 17th birthday, her condition worsened dramatically.  The family made the decision to bring hospice in and asked for my help to arrange this.  After all this time, all the visits, I was finally making a contribution to Jennifer’s care.  And then it was time to tell Jennifer that she was dying.  Her family broke the news to her, while I just sat there, tears welling up.  Jennifer talked about wanting to graduate from high school as the last thing she wanted to do if she could.  There was a brief moment of silence, and I took that opportunity to tell Jennifer and her family about the hospice program, the representative that would be coming, and what to expect from them.  In all the visits, Jennifer barely spoke to me, at least nothing that would have confirmed that my visits with her were nothing more than taking space in her living room, which now its furniture included a hospital bed.

“You’ll still come and visit with me won’t you?”  At that moment, I could no longer hold back the tears.  I was certain that I had meant nothing to Jennifer and here she was concerned that I would stop visiting her just because hospice would be taking over.  I promised I would stay with her.  A month later, Jennifer got a surprise, it had been arranged for Jennifer to graduate from high school, ceremony and all.  It was a moment that I will never forget, because with her fate just before her, she had given a smile that would last forever.

Soon after, her condition worsened and had to be hospitalized.  And then she let go.  Her pain and suffering were over, but it was on her terms.  She got to do the few things that she wanted to do before she passed.  Jennifer touched so many lives and is someone I have never forgotten.

I was dealing with several other patients at the time of Jennifer’s passing, but took her death so hard, that I needed to ask for some time to deal with my grief.  It would be unfair to my other patients, and I defnitely did not want my actions reflecting on them.

I returned to Cansurmount for several more years, and then the internet came along, and found that I could help so many more people, which is where I am today.  I participate in several blogs and internet support groups, have given survivor speeches, and held many one-on-one conversations with people.  I am hoping to see the day when all cancers are cured, but for now, we cannot forget about those who still must fight and make sure we meet their needs.

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