Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Recreation”

It’s Just A Snow Storm


I am sitting here watching some news, and for my friends and family up north, it looks like you are in for Armageddon according to the weather fearmongers.

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Although I now live in a climate where I should never expect to see snow, nor want to, I do recall happier times enjoying snow, when a snow storm was just a snow storm.  There was never a need to name a snow storm.  But as weather fearmongers realized that they could make their job much more important and a part of news history on the level of wars, scandals, and tragedies, capitalizing on Summer storms a.k.a “hurricanes” which are named storms, Winter weather storms could instill the same fear and panic of the threat of a severe tropical storm.

I do not want to minimize the potential for issues with large amounts of snow.  But much more is made of winter storms than needs to be, but hey, it is good for the economy, right?

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At the first threat of a snowflake, everyone flocks to the grocery stores, and empty the shelves for fear of being without food for weeks.  The sensible person knows, that following the end of a snowstorm, it will only be one or two days at the most (in most areas of the country) that you might be “trapped” in your home.  And chances are, on a normal no “bad weather” week, at most a person might go grocery shopping once or twice for the week, having more than enough food to get by.

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I am not going to get into the clusterfluck that happens with the transportation industry when a major snow storm hits.  Let us just say, if you had a flight, and it gets cancelled, you can pretty much expect that your flight either back or to somewhere will occur probably two or three days later, unless you are willing to sit at a customer service desk overnight, waiting for the terminal to open, or hope you might get a seat as a standby, courtesy of passengers who were unable to get back to the airport from the hotels they were shuttled to following their flight cancellations.

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And schools…?  I have mixed feeling about this.  One was as a child, the other as a parent.  Of course, as children, we loved hearing the news of school being closed.  It meant delaying a test that we could have studied better for.  It meant perhaps an extra long weekend.  It meant a lot of fun.

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But as a parent, I know it is nerve-racking to be worried about what might happen on a school bus driving in bad conditions.  And it was not necessarily about how the bus driver performed in the frozen conditions, my children have always had very safe bus drivers.  But as my father, who drove school bus in his retired years told me, there is enormous pressure knowing that you are responsible for 60-80 of other people’s children, and all it takes is poor driving by another driver to turn something so wonderful and fun, into a nightmare, a tragedy.  And it makes no difference whether a parent is driving their own children, if the student themselves are old enough to drive.  But what also needs to be considered in these days with more drivers on the roads than ever, even walking home from school, in blinding snow, is not necessarily safe for a child if the driver cannot see the walking student.

This is a huge contradiction for how I experiences snow and school.  I attended high school in Allentown, Pennsylvania.  In our school district, we had no school buses.  You either walked, had your parents drive you, you drove, or took a city bus.  There was never any need for snow days.  The funny thing is, the Catholic high school did use school buses (they were not part of the school district), and they had lots of snow days.  In fact, the joke to those of us in the public schools, were that the Catholic kids had their school cancelled at the first sighting of a snow flake.

And in 1983, approximately 3 weeks from this time of year, the northeastern United States would be hit with a “historic” blizzard.

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This snow storm actually resulted in an actual snow day for us, my senior year in high school.  It would be a short lived snow day, because it took us all day pretty much to shovel out our sidewalks, cars, driveways.  But the next day we would be expected to in school.  And we were.  For me, I had a four mile walk each way, uphill and downhill, across a huge bridge through enormous amounts of snow that had not yet been shoveled.  Yes, I know, it sounds like a story that we would hear from our grandparents.  But at least in my story, I was wearing shoes.

As an adult, I was still able to enjoy snow.

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It was easy to still enjoy snow.  I had an awesome golden retriever that loved deep snow especially.  While he often had difficulty for some reason smelling for his treats, but had no issue being able to “smell” snow soon to arrive.  He would constantly go to the patio door to be let out to do his business, take a good whiff of air, stick his nose up to the sky, and he would be “gone.”  He would eventually do his thing, and I would call him back into the house which he came reluctantly.  But within seconds, he would be back at the door, whimpering to go back outside.  He knew snow would be coming, and once it finally arrived, he would develop what I call “snow deafness” – in other words, he would hear nothing, especially my commands.  But who could blame him?  He did not care about how “bad” a storm was going to be.

I learned to ski as an adult, and had only one wish for my daughters, that they too would learn to ski.  But heart surgery in 2008 would mean my prior ski season was the last time that I would have had stepping into my skis.  The weird side effect from the surgery was that my cold temperature tolerance had dropped quite a bit.  I had also been concerned  for my fragile breast bone, and then there was also the higher altitudes with my lungs, and over all physical conditioning.  But I got all the satisfaction I needed watching my daughters enjoy tubing and skiing.

In 49 years, I have seen my share of snow storms.  And yes, some have resulted in enormous measurements,  and some have shut down cities, counties, and even states.  But a Winter storm typically does not cause the catastrophic losses that warnings should be given with such weather events as tornadoes and hurricanes.  I say that, with two recent exceptions, two late Fall/early Winter storms, actually tropical storms, Irene and Sandy.  These were two storms that had major impacts as far as destruction, beyond shoveling out.  Irene’s destruction in my area was severe flooding, and Sandy, was rain with high winds resulting in power losses due to an extraordinary amount of down power lines, which meant homes with basements like mine, had no power to operate sump pumps, and furnaces would not operate, resulting in pipes freezing.

Make no mistake, snow is beautiful.

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These are pictures from a blizzard in 2010.  The sound of the snow, more like deafening silence creates a serene environment.  And it is beautiful.  At times, you could not see past your front yard.  But as you can see from the picture on the right, it created quite a challenge for Pollo to do his business.  The snow amounts were so high, I would actually not only shovel our sidewalks and driveway, but a pathway and “patch” for him.  Which would end up covered in no time.

It was after this blizzard that my body finally got it through to me, that I could no longer deal with the physical stress of shoveling snow.  Shoveling snow is not good for anyone from a cardiac standpoint.  In fact, many heart attacks happen during snow shoveling.  And though with my cardiac history, I clearly should not have been shoveling snow, but I did.  Until then.  I finally broke down and got a snow blower to handle amounts of snow like this.  One of the final things I enjoyed, yes, I enjoyed snow shoveling, was now no longer something I could do.

I no longer miss the snow, the cold temperatures, or the panic generated by the fear mongering weathermen and women.

I do think about everyone back home up north.  Please everyone be safe.  Kids, have fun with what will probably be a snow day tomorrow.  Build your snowmen, your snow forts, and get some sledding in (at least if you can, if it has not been banned yet there – what the hell is up with something that has been a tradition for centuries?).  And when you are ready, we can build sandcastles down here.

Walk And Chew Gum


This morning’s walk was quite an active one, much more than I like the morning walk to be.  For me, it is about starting my day, with a clear head, with a positive direction.

Everything can change during this walk, depending on what has happened in the days before.  As of late, you may as well throw everything I am dealing with in a blender and hit the “puree” button.

Like I said, I want my day to start off slowly, and constructively.  I only got a couple of blocks from the front door, when three or four things that have been on my mind regularly, quickly jumbled around in my head for the top story to be dealt with today.

Just as I lost focus of my morning ritual, there he was, Oakley.

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Though Oakley’s coat was much darker than what a golden retriever normally had, he was definitely a golden.  And yes, being the sucker I am for goldens, I had to stop and pet him.  This is not the first time that I have seen Oakley.  It is only natural that he has a very friendly personality.  I immediately got down on the ground so that my head was at the same level as his big “square head.”

Oakley lets me pet him, much the same way I used to pet Pollo, rubbing his chest under his chin, scratching and rubbing his ears, and of course reminding him just how handsome he is.  As I looked up to carry on a conversation with his owner, taking my attention away from Oakley, I got a reminder that my attention was desired somewhere else.

Just as Pollo used to do to me, Oakley took his left front paw, and placed it on my right arm which had been resting on my knee, similar to shaking “paws.”  I looked at Oakley and he had that huge golden grin.

Slowly my focus regained momentum, to start my day as I was intending to, one detail at a time, clear, and sharp.  I lowered Oakley’s paw back to the ground, stood up, and said goodbye to both Oakley and his owner, so that I could continue on my way.  Oakley was not ready to say goodbye, as he stayed in a seated position.  I crossed the street and looked back.  Oakley’s owner was trying to convince him it was time to move on, and Oakley was having no part of it.

Funny, Pollo had a stubbornness about him too.  Oakley was not ready to go, he wanted more attention from me.  Or perhaps he was just helping me, getting me to slow down my thoughts.  Enjoy the day.

Thank you Oakley.

Just Another Reason…


We cannot argue, we would all much be better off if we ate right, exercised right, slept right, and so on.  And we all at one time or another have made excuses at to why we do not.  We blame ourselves, or we blame other sources.  The television commercials that somehow allow us to smell the mouth-watering aromas of fast food, ignoring the blatant warnings of addiction and death prior to the first cigarette, not having enough time to get out and at least take a walk because we do not want miss tonight’s award show, are all just excuses.

I am the world’s biggest hypocrite when it comes to eating healthy, getting enough exercise, and definitely getting enough rest.  I also make lots of excuses.  And that is really what they are, simply excuses.  And I hide behind a very big excuse, which should actually be a reason all the more to do something to lead me to a healthier life.

Waaaay back before I was even diagnosed with cancer, I knew that I needed to take good care of my body.  Now, notice how I wrote that, “I needed to take care”.  I did not write “I should have taken care.”  If I recall, my weight was fairly healthy at around 140 pounds, and I was in fairly good shape, constantly active playing recreational sports.  I did not eat the best, a combination of economics and taste (I wrote a post last year about being finicky like Morris the Cat).  But I knew, my family on both sides had histories of obesity, diabetes, and cardiac disease.

But then I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  One of the strangest side effects I had, was a weight gain of nearly 60 pounds, courtesy of the high doses of prednisone I took to counter some of the effects of the other chemotherapy drugs.  So, it was only natural, that I get right back on the “horse” and drop that weight.  I lost all of the weight through dedication to the gym, daily, and a very strict diet – okay, the best I could do with not liking vegetables.  The weight came off in less than half the time it took to gain.

Unfortunately, what I did not know, is that my thyroid had been reduced to basically nothing, and was barely functioning, which meant my metabolism was not working properly – this due to the radiation therapy I recieved.  You guessed it, the weight started creeping back up, and in not time, my weight had returned to the weight I promised myself I would never let happen again.  My doctor ordered me to take a synthetic drug to make my thyroid work, and ironically at the same time, told me not to expect any major weight loss (which really sounds weird since if the thyroid worked properly, which is why I was told my weight creeped up, my weight should get under control).

So over the next many years, I just went through the motions, exercising when I chose, and well, whatever… when it came to my diet.

In 2008, another bomb got dropped on me, when another more serious issue developed again because of my treatments earlier in my life.  I had to have emergency heart surgery, again due to the radiation damage.  So as I was recovering from this surgery, I was being asked to keep two things in mind, diet and exercise.  I will get to those in just a second.  My first concern was rehabilitation.  I just had my chest cracked open, which means that the surgeon went through chest muscles.  I had a laparotomy during my diagnostic stages for my Hodgkin’s, had my abdomen cut open, and received no rehab to learn to strengthen my abdomen muscles, which clearly led to many issues physically for me.

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Let me tell you, I was shocked when I asked about receiving physical therapy to recover from my open heart surgery.  I knew I would have issues with the breast bone healing (due to the radiation issue), but I never expected to feel as completely fatigued as I did the first time I got to my feet.  And then of course there was the issue of dealing with my heart which was now getting the proper flow of blood which it had not been for so long.

I was told I would not need PT because I was only 42 years old.  I would be fine.  Forget that my insurance was willing to pay for it, the surgeon and cardiologist did not feel it was necessary.  Within a couple of months, I would have my care transferred to a hospital network that required me to have physical therapy, because it had been determined not only for the benefit of the heart surgery, but due to the neglect from the abdominal surgery, and the physical damage that I had received from all of my treatments, recovering from the heart surgery was amplifying many of my physical struggles.  But within no time at all, the effects of not having physical rehab following my heart surgery were obvious.  My shoulders began pulling forward, as if hunching over, because I was afraid to stretch out my tender, repaired pectoral muscles.  Issue with supporting my head, protecting against something called “drooping head syndrome” also began to accelerate from the combination of radiation damage, and the pull from my chest muscles.

I finally did get into physical therapy.  Actually, I had to repeat it three more times.  I will not get into the rehab points in this blog, they are a separate issue.  I wanted to state that I had finally gotten to a point where I was functioning again, though with restrictions ordered by the doctor, but by all means, there would be no excuses anymore for me not taking care of myself.  I needed to improve my diet, reduce my stress, and get some form of regular exercise.

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It has taken some time, but recent events over the last  year or so, I am finally eating smarter, not to be confused with healthier necessarily.  I am still a very picky eater.  But my portion control has been so improved from learning to cut portions in half.  It used to be that I would smother any vegetable in any condiment just to make sure I did not taste or feel the texture.  I have a ways to go with choices, but at least now I will eat vegetables.  I will not order them, yet, but if they are on my plate, I will eat them.  It is a start.

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Exercise has always been tough.  Of course you get the warnings, consult your physician before… yada yada yada.  I have a lot of physical issues that have developed over the decades between my treatments, surgeries, and recoveries.  So I do have a lot of restrictions that I must adhere to, to make sure that I do not cause any more muscular damage, spinal injury, or even cause any cardiac event.  So, at 49 years of age, I will never look like Atlas.  But there is no reason, that I cannot do a simple task, walking 20 minutes every day.  And generally I do this.

I have enough strikes against me health wise – family history, my own medical diagnoses – without making anything worse.  It is in my best interest to keep my stress to low limits, give my body enough rest, exercise, not smoke, and eat properly.  To be honest, I am not sure if I would be as diligent as I am today, if it were not for the support I receive from a professional dietician keeping an eye on me, and the tremendous support I get from those closest to me.

I cannot do this alone, and knowing that, is what is making the difference this time.

 

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