Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Recreation”

There Is Life After Hodgkin’s Lymphoma


As Lymphoma Awareness month rolls on, I want to write a lighter piece about Lymphoma, about life after Lymphoma. While I wrote last, that we are never really over “cancer” even when we hear the word “remission,” there is still a life to be lived.

One of my favorite places to visit both as a child and as an adult especially with my daughters, was a place called “Boulder Field” located in Pennsylvania. I spent hours upon hours climbing all over the rocks, never taking the same path, or hiking the same combination of boulders. Each trip was different. It is kind of symbolic for all the different things that would be ahead of me in my life after Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. The ironic thing, prior to my cancer, I do not believe that I was doing much of anything with my life worthy of fulfillment or purpose. I had been content with living a “party” lifestyle that my first wife and I were enjoying. No commitment. No plan. Just show up. That was our “normal.”

But there is a phenomenon known as a “new normal” that cancer survivors experience. Resistance is futile, because it is just something that happens. It would have been easy to pick up right where I left off before the rude interruption from cancer. But with all of the toxicity and damage I had gone through with my treatments, I had to be more careful. A new “normal.” I had follow appointments and testing to undertake as part of this new “normal.” For the first time in my life, at the age of 24, I began to think of other things I wanted to do with my life. And part of that was not to let cancer dictate my new “normal.” This new “normal” was going to be what I made it to be.

A couple of years after my treatments ended, I led our church’s youth group. Actually, this was the first of two that I had been in charge of over ten years. I had done something that other predecessors had not done, and that was open the group to all ages of children, not just the teenagers. Sure, their activities were grouped just as the different levels of school; pre-school and elementary, middle school, and high school. But at least once a year, the entire program came together on a Sunday dedicated to the youth of the church, and all participated and led that Sunday’s services, no adults. The program had all kinds of activities for outreach, and the older kids, the teenagers got to experience road trips such as ski trips and white water rafting. It was an honor to watch these kids grow. In fact, over twenty years later, I am still in contact with several of them, now parents themselves.

I would get an employment opportunity that would change my life forever, working for a major pharmaceutical company in medical research. After years of trying to improve my otherwise mediocre employment situation, and in spite of having no college degree in medical research, after just one interview, I was hired. The job not only provided a much better salary, but something up until that point, since my cancer diagnosis unobtainable, health and life insurance, without being discriminated against. I would actually handle one of the drugs used in my chemotherapy cocktail. But the biggest reward was to be a part of some very important discoveries against several major diseases.

I began to travel. One wish I had was to see my favorite football team, the Seattle Seahawks, play their arch rivals, the Raiders. That trip out west, would change the way I travel forever. For me, the trip became about opportunities. On this trip, I would actually get to meet two fellow Hodgkin’s survivors in person who up until that point, I had only known through emails. Both were a bit younger than me, and diagnosed a few years after my treatments had ended. But I got to see several places I had never seen before, Seattle, Anaheim, Bakersfield, and Lake Tahoe before returning home. From that point on, nearly any trip I made after that, would almost always involve an opportunity to meet other survivors.

But one of the biggest events, which actually happened twice, happened because of the one long term and permanent effect from my treatments, the inability to have biological children. On two separate trips across the world to China, twice I became a Dad. Every day with my daughters has been a blessing, and many times a new experience, likely an experience that never would have crossed my mind such as swimming with dolphins and stingrays, exploring caves, and so much more. Nothing could be cherished more, than being their Dad, each and every blessed day. Both now in their late teens, they are soon ready to go out into the world, and make their own memories, and for that, I am truly blessed as that spectator.

I will only mention this part briefly, well, because it speaks for itself. For over a decade, I have been writing about my experiences as a cancer survivor, whether it be on “Paul’s Heart,” published in various medical newsletters, anthologies, and am currently working on four books of my own. This has led to opportunities to speak in public at various functions as a living, breathing long time survivor of cancer. A frustrating thing for me really, that more of a big deal is not made about us. But perhaps the coolest experience of my writing career, was to have something I wrote performed live:

An unexpected direction in my life occurred back in 2009, when I decided to enter politics, at our local school board level. I was unhappy with the way the current school board had been behaving and many of their decisions, which I felt would have an impact on my daughters educations. And so, I enjoyed the experience of two campaign runs. It was a wonderful and exhausting experience, there were so many memories made. Several long term friendships came from my running for school board, friendships from running mates. I wanted to, and felt that it happened, to make a difference for my daughters educations, which of course would benefit other’s children as well.

The Covid19 pandemic gave me an opportunity to return to something I enjoyed doing, playing guitar and piano again. I won’t ever do it publicly, but I am having a lot of fun again, expanding my musical horizons. Combined with my singing, I even wrote my first song and recorded it, a very cool experience.

No, my life did not turn out at all the way that I thought it would. But then again, I never thought I would get cancer either. But as many put it, “I won’t let cancer define who I am.” I am far from finished writing my story. And to do that, I have to keep living my life after Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and in spite of what it has left for me, just as my fellow long term survivors.

The Impact Of Support


One knock on me, that I have had my entire life, at least once I hit my teen years, is that I make myself the last of priorities. Sure, you will hear me give the “airplane lecture… ‘put your mask on first'” frequently, but I rarely if ever do that myself. In school, friends constantly found that they could come and talk to me, and I would listen, just listen. Anything said to me, was kept in confidence, because if someone was confiding me, it was likely because there was some level of emotional hurt that they were dealing with and I did not want it made worse. But I wanted to make sure that they knew they were not alone.

I did not give any advice back to my friends. To be honest, I did not know how. An odd thing about how I was raised, rather the environment I was raised, we did not talk about our emotions. We did not show our emotions. I was taught to care about others before myself, empathy, the ability to care about others and what they may be going through.

This may seem like a good quality to have, but there is a huge difference between having empathy, and being an empath. Understanding a struggle that someone is going through is different from actually feeling that struggle. An empath will likely not set any boundaries, actually putting their own mental health in strain. What makes being an empath real bad, is not knowing when or how to turn “it” off.

As a kid, I was perhaps a lot more sensitive to others and with others. It really comes quite naturally to me to want to help, and to be there for others. It is what I have been taught.

But what happens when the table gets turned? The shoe is placed on the other foot? Readers of “Paul’s Heart” and so many of my closest friends have never seen or heard a “Paul” that has been private, keeping everything to himself. You have to go way back into my teen years, and early 20’s to see that at one time, I was quite private.

And then came the diagnosis of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

I went to my appointments alone, including the one when the doctor told me I had cancer. I went to my treatments alone. I could not lean on my family, because that is not what we did. Even the one I considered closest to me, my fiance, barely acknowledged what I was going through. In the beginning, I actually offered her an opportunity to leave, instead of getting married, as I knew our married life would be much different than she had dreamt. I did not even hear from my father, with whom I was estranged, later to discover, he could not muster the strength to see me perhaps face the same fate as his mother, who died from cancer of the gallbladder.

Back in 1988, there was no internet. Hell, I did not even own a computer. Some, with well intentions, tried to inspire me with “someone they knew” or knew of, that had Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and had beaten it. My uncle had mentioned someone back in the 1970’s, and I had discovered a former football player for the New York Giants, Carl Nelson, had beaten Hodgkin’s. This was going to have to be enough. It wasn’t.

I broke down. Wandering through the hospital, I came across an office that provided emotional support to cancer patients. Once inside the office, I was greeted by John. As he came out to greet me, I could see he was tall (everyone is typically taller than me), but he barely cleared the doorway. I have no idea how long I spent with him that first visit, but I know it was a long time, and for the first time in my life, I reached out for help, and not only did it make it matter, it made a huge difference. Between John, and my oncology nurse, Brenda, I would rely on them for all of the emotional support that I needed to get me through my treatments.

Are you ready for the coolest thing? I got to reconnect with both of them, after 32 years. And not only that, my daughters, who were not even born during the time I battled Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, having only heard of that part of my life, got to travel back in time, and meet two of the most important people I consider the reason I am still here today. Both of my daughters knew I had cancer. But meeting John and Brenda made it very real to them to meet two who saved my life.

I think I can speak for both John and Brenda, this was a joyful reunion. As I have mentioned previously, there are many endings that do not end happily ever after that I am sure both of them have experienced. I am one of their happily ever after stories, though not perfect (two divorces and a slew of health issues).

Relationships are the one support we expect to have when we face our darkest challenge. I am not the only one to experience this either. And times have not changed. But that is not to say, that it cannot happen. One of my biggest inspirations of cancer survivorship actually comes from someone who only has 1/4 the survivorship that I do, and has one of the brightest futures ahead of her.

You can read about Stephanie’s amazing journey which I have written about many times on “Paul’s Heart” over her brief survivorship. One of the biggest factors of her survivorship, is the amazing support that she had in her battle. Stephanie will not shy away from speaking how difficult it was physically and emotionally, but she was surrounded by family and friends in large numbers. But it was someone who had come into her life, following her diagnosis, that would be her strongest supporter. Now married several years, and a super-handsome and super-happy young son, Stephanie, along with her family and friends, has an amazing support network in her survivorship.

Unlike my days, where all we had was electricity, today there are countless resources for support. You can still find face-to-face support in the form of trained counselors and other therapists, or via the internet. I myself was trained as a certified peer-to-peer counselor by the American Cancer Society soon after I was done being treated. Who better to relate to the cancer experience than someone who has actually gone through cancer?

Though I did not have access to the personal support like so many patients and survivors do today, in my survivorship, I have personally met so many, not just online, but in person who have had to face some of the unique health issues attributed to our treatments, something that not even medicine is on the same page.

It is not always easy to rely on others, especially strangers. You might have a spouse or significant other who might feel threatened or unappreciated with you having outside support, “why aren’t I good enough?” It has nothing to do with someone personal being good enough for that particular need. I wish there was a way to convey that it is the personal correlation of the experience that can only be appreciated by someone else who has gone through it.

But another complication with close relationships, resentment. It can be a relatively new relationship, or a marriage of forty years. While Stephanie has admitted how strong the relationship is with her husband, like everyone else, they have had some challenges, but, they are strong enough, and open enough to face everything together. This is not always the case for others. There could be resentment, or an attitude of “I didn’t sign up for this,” or even fatigue of being the caregiver. I have seen relationships endure in spite of these struggles and I have seen the occasional horrific dissolution of marriages, nasty enough, that the caregiver filing for the end of the marriage actually resorts to using the very health issues against their spouse, that they felt they could no longer support.

Peer support does not come without its pitfalls either, though for the most part, it is without the daily domestic issues faced by couples. As I mentioned earlier, I have met so many other survivors and patients. This means that I have said goodbye to so many as well over the years, either from the Hodgkin’s itself, or issues related to the late effects. Every person that I have met, whether online or in person, we have that personal connection. We know that we “get it” when it comes to understanding the things that we face. And our lives are always touched in such a positive way for whatever amount of time we got to know them. Many times, it is those memories that push us, to push each other when we need the emotional kick in the pants, or just someone to listen.

Much to the chagrin of many in my life, I have made the decision to make my life public. I have been this way since my diagnosis. I want others to know that cancer can be taken on. I want others to know that there is help for whatever part of the cancer journey is being faced. I want people to know, that others experience similar situations, that while your brother, mother, next door neighbor, co-worker may not understand, there are those that do. The help does not have to be the internet, it can be in person. Most importantly, and I cannot stress it enough, the most important thing you can do, when faced with a trial such as cancer, is lean on others. Sure, there will be times that you feel alone, maybe because that is how you may be being treated. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Find some, lean on someone. It makes a difference.

Play Me A Song…


Music has always been a functional part of my life, at least from the age of five years old. Whether I play it, sing it, “spin it” (as a disc jockey), or just listen to it, there will always be a song that has made a permanent impact on my life and memory for me.

Chicago’s “Wishing You Were Here” featuring the Beach Boys, was probably the first contemporary song I ever heard, back in the early 1970’s. I was a child at our local amusement park, Dorney Park, and the song was blaring from a speaker located atop a pole near the Thunderhawk wooden roller coaster, that I was about to ride, also a first in my childhood.

As an untethered passenger in my mother’s red Ford Galaxy, Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” played on the “AM radio” in the dashboard of the car. I would scream, “turn it up Mom!” every time it was on.

Somehow, April Wine’s most popular song, “Just Between You And Me” was our senior class prom theme song, in spite of the song being a few years old at that point.

The introduction to Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” had just come on to my car radio, as I pulled into the parking lot of my oncologist, to begin my chemotherapy treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This song would instantly trigger the visual of Madonna’s music video for the song, causing a reaction in my mind and heart, with the conflict that I was having with my “higher power” during this difficult time in my life.

You get my point. This list goes on and on. My hour-long drive to work and home, I actually enjoyed, because it meant that I would get to listen to music. At work, probably 90% of the time, you would find me with some form of headphones/ear buds on, listening to whatever current media player I had.

Recovery from the various health crisis I have faced, as well as convalescing in the hospitals, you would always hear music, as I combined the tunes with the concept of “positive imaging” (thank you author Norman Vincent Peale), a method of imagining a time in the future, healed of what I was facing. And of course, plenty of performances singing, DJing, and other various forms of entertainment I did, rounded out the musical involvement.

The past two and half years of the Covid pandemic, I have gotten to spend quite a bit more time, in my personal and private concert hall, not the travelling road show that is my car. I would concentrate on improving myself on the guitar and keyboard. It was not unexpected, to be walking by the house, and hear me belting out vocals to many songs in my wheelhouse.

But recently, I noticed a new purpose for at least one facet of my world of music. It was an accidental discovery for sure, a blessing and a curse actually. One thing I take pride in, however I perform, is giving the best effort I can, as perfectly as I can. It turns out music is going to be making a bigger difference in my life than I could have expected.

Approximately twelve years ago, I noticed something odd. I went to check my voicemail, I had forgotten my passcode, a number I had used for years. As someone with nerd and OCD tendencies, there was no way for this to have happened, but it did. This “block” lasted about five minutes. Further incidents included “blind” events while driving. By this, I mean pulling my car into traffic, where I “saw” none, and there were. The final straw, was an incident at the kitchen table, when a cup of water was spilled, causing me to irrationally get upset.

I had enough wits about me to realize, something was not right. And I recall an incident with my first father-in-law, suffering unexplainable cognitive issues, to eventually be determined to be caused by unmonitored medicines. This cost him four years of his life being kept in assisted living with my mother-in-law unable to handle this issue.

Something had changed with me. Something had to have changed. But what? My doctor sent me for neurological testing which came up inconclusive. Still, something was not right, and it was getting worse, and I felt it was going to be up to me to figure it out, as long as I had the time. Several prescriptions had been changed following my emergency heart bypass in 2008. There was a change in one drug in the drug itself, as well as a steep increase in the dosage, protocol the doctor said. I looked at the side effects listed for the drug, and nowhere did it list “cognitive issues.” Yet, the drug was all I could think of that could be causing this issue.

A search of the internet, I came across a doctor at the University of California, San Diego, Dr. Beatrice Golomb, who did a study on statins and cognitive effects. Long story short, here was my answer. Evidently, if side effects do not meet a certain percentage in appearance in the studies, it does not get listed on the warnings. That does not mean it does not occur. Dr. Golomb had run studies that confirmed unreported side effects from cognitive impairments to rage as a result of statin usage. I was certain this had to be it.

I notified my doctor I was going to stop taking the drug all completely, even at the risk of my cholesterol rising to dangerous highs again. He would either have to find something different, or go back to the dosage I was already on, which after several months of figuring, I ended up on my original dose, and the cognitive symptoms had disappeared, actually within a few days of stopping the other dose.

It is not uncommon for cancer patients to complain of “chemo brain” or a brain fog, and for some of us long timers, this issue can carry on for a long time, if not permanently. Because health complications from our treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma are progressive in nature, we should be constantly surveilled, though sadly, so many do not even know this history. As doctors watch for cardiac, pulmonary, and other issues as they advance, cognitive is something that often gets overlooked. It just sneaks up on you.

I have always had an issue with my memory since my chemo days, but the change in my prescription caused a separate issue. But years later, yes, I have noticed my memory slide, and with no rhyme or reason how often, or how short the distance between the moment and when I forget. I now have a way personally of being able to tell if and when it gets worse. And it is the thing I credit with getting me through life, music.

I already know that I only retain about 90% of the lyrics that I have ever sung, and no song is likely in its entirety. And though guitar and keyboard both require “muscle memory,” mental memory is still needed to know which notes to play. Though I try to practice every day, I commit one song for each, vocal, guitar, and keyboard, that I rely on to get perfectly each time. And if I cannot, I immediately try to figure if it is a “muscle memory” issue, or a cognitive. As often as I play or sing, it should not be a “muscle memory” issue. It then will become a matter of how often and how bad the errors I make are, and if determined to be a memory issue, how bad it is getting.

A couple of years ago, Lady Gaga performed with Tony Bennett, who is living with Alzheimer’s Disease. Even at his age and his stage of the disease, the one thing his mind has not been able to take away from him, is his ability to recall every song, every note and every word of them, and perform them just as he did when he first wrote them. Sadly, he cannot remember much else.

These days, I try not to keep too much on my plate, because there really are only a few things on my plate that are so important to remember, not to forget. I am hoping this helps at least keep my sliding memory to a minimum. And if it does not, hopefully someone hears me, and reminds me. I will either be singing or playing. It will be hard to miss.

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