Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Side Effects”

Have You Had A Stroke And Never Knew It


The timing of treating someone who has suffered a stroke is critical.  Treatment must be started immediately.  But what happens if you do not recognize that the person, or yourself, is having a stroke.

F.A.S.T. has become the easiest method to help recognize a stroke.  F = face drooping, A = arm weakness, S = speech difficulty or slurring, T = time to call 911.  Yes, memorizing FAST can make a difference.  And even a newer expression has come out.

B.E.F.A.S.T.  By adding B = balance, and E = eyes, BE FAST in recognizing the stroke.

But can you have a stroke and not show these symptoms?  Absolutely.

My father had been in the hospital to have a lobectomy (remove part of his lung due to lung cancer).  The surgeon had come up to talk to me following the surgery, as my father lay in recovery, and mentioned that my father was having a longer time coming out of the anesthesia.  This did not seem a concern, since my Dad was in his late 60’s.  He also liked to sleep.  And I am sure there was going to be quite a bit of pain to deal with.  What could be the harm?

He did seem a bit confused at first upon coming to, but we attributed that to the anesthesia and pain medications.  But in the next day or so, we could no longer blame the confusion on medications.

I received a call from my brother that my father was looking for his glasses.  I mentioned they were in a drawer and asked why he needed them.  My brother said that he could not see without them.  He was looking for his cup of coffee and could not see it to pick it up (which happened to be right in front of him on his tray).  While my father did wear glasses, he did not always use them.  He was not completely without clear vision.  He often did things without wearing his glasses.

As I arrived at the hospital, I had just missed an array of physicians who had been looking at my father, including a neurologist.  I do not know why a neurologist was there, I expected the oncologist, the surgeon, maybe the resident, but not a neurologist.  Everything was going well with my dad’s recovery.  Well, except for his eating.

While I normally follow rules, I was concerned because my dad was not eating right.  I stopped by the cafeteria to get him some more tasty foods instead of what he was being served.  I purchased mozzarella sticks which I knew he liked.  Surely he would eat them.

I asked if he had his dentures in his mouth, so that he could eat, and he had said yes.  But as I could see from the sunkenness of his jawline, he did not have them in.  I asked him where his cup with the false teeth were, and he proceeded to argue with me, quite clearly that he had them in his mouth.  He then proceeded to open his mouth, and with his thumb and pointer finger, attempted to pull out his dentures.  Only one problem, they were not in his mouth.  And he kept trying to pull what was not there out.

Quickly I found the cup, opened it for him, and he shrugged his shoulders, and placed the dentures in his mouth.  Now I was getting confused.  He seriously thought he had his false teeth in his mouth.  And not only surprised to see the cup in my hand, but never giving a second thought to the argument he just had with me.

I gave my dad the mozzarella sticks.  He took one, bit into it…

“How did they make these so soft?  They are really good this way.”

“Dad, they are mozzarella sticks, they are soft.”

And then I heard all I needed…

“No.  They are carrot sticks.”

My father had a sense of humor, but not when it came to messing around like that.  He was not a practical joker.

“No Dad.  They are mozzarella sticks.”

“Really, because they taste like carrots.”

I looked to my brother and told him to get the nurse right away.  Something was wrong.

When the nurse came in, I explained to her what had happened.  I stressed this was not normal behavior for my dad.  She called the neurologist back into the room.  I explained what just happened to him, and his response was that he had just seen my father and felt he was fine.  Talked clearly, showed no signs of anything wrong.  And then he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.  He placed it in front of my father.

“Mr. Edelman, I would like you to draw a vertical line through every horizontal line.”

My father thought it was foolish, but proceeded anyway.  He put the pen down, and the neurologist then asked my dad if he was finished.  My father answer yes.  The neurologist asked, “are you sure?” and proceeded to shift the paper to the right, about 3 inches.  At this point, my father realized that he had left the 3 columns on the left uncrossed.  Puzzled himself, my father then put vertical lines through the rest of the horizontal lines.

Then, the neurologist had my father get out of the bed, something he had not done yet, and in just the few steps my father took, you could see the lean towards one direction, the only direction he could so, to the right.

A head scan would reveal my father suffered two major strokes, most likely during surgery or recovery.  He did not show the signs of “FAST”, and just by conversation, the neurologist did not notice anything.  But were it not for the fact of the noticeable change in behavior, something so obvious, we would never have discovered my father had had these strokes.  Sure, two days had passed, but with medication, he would eventually recover from the strokes, to be able to deal with his cancer.

BEFAST when it comes to noticing a stroke, but also, pay attention to behavior.  The test given to my father which revealed the possibility of a stroke is far from scientific, but my father’s inability to see from the left side was all that was necessary to hint at the stroke.  And we went from there.

Save A Life – Share This Post!!!!


These are copies of a laminated card I carry in my wallet, and reflects the warning on my med-alert bracelet.  I am asplenic, in simple words, I have no spleen.  Like many others, and for any reason besides cancer, a person could be left without a spleen.  And if that is the case, that means that you are at an increased risk for infections and illnesses, including developing a fatal condition related to sepsis, which I have dealt with twice.  And were it not for this card, and the quick thinking of my doctors, I may not be here today.

I am a member on many pages related to Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, but as I stated, being asplenic is not just related to cancer.  Trauma such as a car accident, another illness, could result in the loss of your spleen.  And the chances are, that you know at least one person in your life, without a spleen.  And if you do, this information will help to save their life.

I received this information over ten years ago, when I met the doctor who is dealing with all the late side effects from my cancer treatments.  This information is given out by the survivorship clinic at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, so this is information that is very important, and proven.

Please share this post, encourage the printing of this card, or even typing it yourself, but keep it.  If you end up with a fever over 101 degrees, get to the emergency room.  They need to check your lactic levels which will either confirm or deny sepsis.  With sepsis, it is a matter of hours of saving your life.  The more knowledge and tools you have, the better chance you have.

Over the last decade, I have known too many who have died from sepsis.  Patty Duke, former child TV star, died from sepsis.  The attention to sepsis lasted only days, yet every day, so many patients face sepsis, and unknowingly, pass away with the cause not determined, likely to have been sepsis.

Timing is important.  Share this post.  If you know someone without a spleen, give them this information.  They will be glad you did.

“Whose Life Is It Anyway?” Loss Of Control


I love the “Pirates Of The Caribbean” series of movies.  And there is not better picture to describe the way your life gets taken from your control, than when the two main ships were battling against each other, and dealing with the vortex.  This is exactly how it felt 30 years ago, staring down the diagnosis of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, recovering from major surgery to “stage” my cancer, and the road that was going to lead ahead.

Under normal circumstances, we have our own control in the palm of our hands.  Sure, our employers and teachers can take some of that control away from us, because, well, it is an authority thing, and we have to do what they say in order to get paid or to achieve our diploma or degree.  But when we get sick, seriously ill, it is the realization that we lose all control, to our illness if it is serious enough.  Sure, we have a say in how we get treated, but ultimately, it is the doctor calling the shots.  Even the illness and treatments (along with side effects) control how we get through each day, if we have enough stamina to go for a nice afternoon walk, or barely enough to get a drink from the refrigerator.

The “staging laparotomy” for my Hodgkin’s did something to me that nothing had ever been able to make me do before, miss work.  Up until that point, I had never missed one full day of work.  Recovering from this surgery was going to mean I would miss an entire month.

That was not the only loss of control that I had felt.  At home, I was dealing with a new issue, being cared for, and being cared about.  I was not prepared for the “overboard” attention that I was receiving since my diagnosis.  It was overwhelming.  So much so, that instead of returning home from the hospital, I made the decision to “hide” away from everyone, staying at the home of my future in-laws.  I knew there that I would have quiet, able to regain my focus on what was ahead, able to get things back under my control.  Or so I thought.

This is an actual picture of my abdominal scar from the laparotomy.  Looks pretty neat and healed now.  But back in January of 1989, it did not look like this.  You see, one of the procedures during this laparotomy, unknown at the time, would leave me unable to fight infections as my spleen had been removed.  For a person with a normally functioning spleen, though the situation would be possible, it would be less likely, and less dangerous.  Only decades later did medicine realize how important the spleen actually was to the body to fight disease and infections.

In any case, a few days convalescing at my future in-laws, my scar, still fresh, had become infected.  Just when I thought I was getting my life back under control, my body decided otherwise.  But in my need for control, I took myself away from those responsible for my care, more than a half hour away.  The house was empty, as my fiance and her parents were at work.  I clearly could not drive.  I had no choice.  I had to call my aunt.

She was retired and in her early 70’s.  But she was the only one that was going to be able to get me to the doctor’s office, who wanted to see me right away.  I had not choice.  The infection was already bad enough, and could possibly go septic, something that would have the potential to kill me.

Unfortunately, it was not soon I realized, that the infection was not the only danger I was facing.  Now, I want to make perfectly clear, I am not making fun of any elderly drivers or making any commentary on if they should be driving or not.  But I will say without certainty, the infection was not the immediate danger to my health.  Oh, how I wish I could have just driven myself to the doctor’s office.

At some point, most all of us have had an experience driving along side, or in between concrete barriers while highway construction or repairs were being made.  Well, at the time, Rt. 309 was undergoing a major construction project, creating a new interstate.  What it meant was, while the first five mile ride was tolerable, as we approached the construction area, I now was afraid of something worse than cancer, my Aunt’s driving.

As the road shrank from three lanes to one, my Aunt brought her car to a complete stop.  This was to allow ALL other vehicles behind her, to enter the “cattle chute” before she did.  The reason why became obvious as she soon accelerated to 10 miles per hour, the pace she would keep for the remaining 10 miles on the highway, nervous of hitting either side of her car against the concrete barriers.

I eventually did make it to the doctor’s office, without any additional medical needs.  Though clearly I had developed a case of “white knuckles.”  The treatment of my incision did not take long enough to allow my nerves to settle from the journey there, before heading back.  I will spare the gory details of what was done, though even for someone squeamish like me, it was freakishly interesting to watch how he treated the wound.

On the way back to the house, it hit me.  I have no control of my life anymore.  I have a wedding in five months.  Nobody cares except for me and my fiance.  I have bills to be paid.  Nobody cares.  Be here on this day.  You need to do this.  Cancer was now completely controlling my life.  Even as I recovered from this surgery, doing nothing, no work, no driving, nothing, even the infection of my incision controlled me.  The following week I would meet with a radiation oncologist who would discuss with me, the prospects of radiation therapy.  And it would have to begin soon.  I had not control in any of my life anymore.

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