Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Side Effects”

A Lesson For Oncologists From Jessica


As a 25 year survivor of cancer, I have grown accustomed to the fact, that the majority of medicine still has no idea how to treat those of us who are dealing with late developing side effects from treatments for cancer.  After all, the benchmark is “five years”, so medicine and science, never really studied what could happen to the average cancer patient if they lived longer than those five years.  Well, there are over 12 million of us, and if we are lucky, maybe 1% of us get the care we need, from exceptional cancer facilities who finally saw the need to take care of those of us, who have lived long enough to develop issues that no one had any idea that could happen.

The studying of long term cancer side effects is relatively new, but what is not new, is that follow up care is more closely followed for newer survivors, and for the rest of their lives.  But as one new cancer survivor points out, there is still one major area that many oncologists are still failing cancer patients.

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I would like to introduce you to Jessica, a 25 year old mother of two.  She has a fiancé who together own their own ice cream parlor in mid-Pennsylvania.  A little over a year into the ownership, Jessica was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and treated with chemotherapy and radiation.  She finished her treatments a couple of months ago, and this past week, she received great news that all cancer patients want to hear, her first post treatment scan was clear.  Her Hodgkin’s was gone.  While that news was great, something was troubling Jessica, and she wrote an “open letter” to her oncologist.  But to be honest, this letter could very well speak for nearly all cancer patients.

Jessica has given me permission to post her story on “Paul’s Heart” in hopes that more people are inspired to bring such an important discussion to oncologists.  It is not good enough to treat us.  You have to prepare us for the life that is ahead as a cancer survivor.

The link to Jessica’s blog is :  http://jesskmcd.tumblr.com/post/127243498326/an-open-letter-to-my-oncologistthat-he-will

Here is Jessica’s letter:

“An Open Letter To My Oncologist…That He Will Never See”

Dear Oncologist,
Thank you for saving my life. Seriously I mean it. 👌🏻 but I do need you too know…in many ways I feel like you have failed me.
1. Remember those pain meds your perscribed…100 at a time…for months…the ones that make you feel all warm and fuzzy and happy even though your dying? I don’t get those anymore. Now I am left to deal with my real thoughts and feelings without that warm & fuzzy filter. You never should have just handed those out…no warnings or anything. Thankfully as a mother I knew better than to get to far in. Don’t worry I didn’t get addicted, thanks for asking.
2. You never told me about PTSD. You never told me how irrationally angry I would get at the world. You never warned me that the post treatment fight with yourself can be scarier than the one against cancer. You should have told me, because I have learned through others like me that this is common. If you didn’t know this was a “side effect” of cancer treatment than you should quit your job, because every single cancer patient goes through this in one way or another.
3. Speaking of post treatment treatment, thank you for suddenly making me wait weeks for test results, not returning phone calls, and general lack of compassion. I may not be DYING anymore, but I don’t know that. I don’t trust that. I still feel like I am dying. Every day I see friends I have come to know and love who also battled along side me who relapse. Every hiccup, every little pain, I assume my cancer is back. Again…PTSD. I understand you have a lot of patients to take care of…who are dying. But I am still a patient. I have more than just physical needs. Maybe your department should hire a nurse or doctor for “post treatment care”. I understand that’s probably not in your budget. I just feel as though I have relied on you and your nurses for months, trusting you to keep me alive and then the second treatment ends…it all ends. No one cares anymore. It’s a hard realization to deal with. We go from everyone praying for us, getting special treatment & attention to “the girl that had cancer”. I understand the end of the pity parties, but as my oncologist I still NEED you to have some compassion for me.
4. Two mins of your time isn’t enough. I don’t like having to feel like I am holding you up when you try to shake my hand and leave, and I jump up and say wait! I have questions! I feel like an inconvenience. It’s not a nice feeling. I have learned through treatment your not warm and fuzzy. Luckily your nurses are because I needed that. But I think with a 24 yr old mother who has cancer, you need to be slightly more understanding. Then again I don’t even know if you know I have children.

Thanks for being awesome.

-That one cancer survivor

The Right Thing To Do


A recent news story on a Philadelphia television station that was shared on Facebook, showed a wonderful story about an elderly couple, married for decades, being reunited, staying together in the same nursing home in their twilight years.  To the average person, you may not think this is that big of a deal, that it should be fairly easy to accomplish if both people need to be in a nursing home.  Now, I am not talking about an assisted living community, or retirement home.  To get two spouses together in the same nursing homes in their twilight years, is in fact, quite a difficult thing to accomplish.  While it is the right thing to do, policies and procedures usually do not allow any room for exceptions, and even if it means splitting up two people who have been together for decades… as in 40 and 50 years, and to die alone, so be it.

I got to experience this first hand when my father was in the final stages of lung cancer.  He and my stepmother had been together for over 40 years.  But his declining health, along with her own health care needs from being left with permanent injuries from an auto accident, looked to finally be bringing their time together, to an end.

My brother and I had discovered the pending situation following initial lung surgery that my father had.  At some point during the surgery and recovery, he suffered a stroke.  Long story short, the hospital had informed us, that he would not be able to go home without someone to care for him until his recovery, since his wife was unable to care for him.  So there we were, needing to find someone long term to care for my stepmother, but also having to find some facility to take care of my father.  It took a lot of effort working with county workers, who were already involved with my stepmother’s care, but care at home was arranged for my father so that they could remain with each other.

But when the cancer spread, and became more aggressive, his next trip back to the hospital would be his last.  Cancer cells spreading to his brain made it impossible for him to be on his own anymore.

Immediately my brother and I tried to figure out what to do.  No matter what, we wanted our parents (his mother and my father) to be together again.  But there were two main factors working against us.  Number one was the fact that each had their own level of care, and it was impossible trying to find a facility that would handle both assisted needs, and skilled care.  The best we had found was a complex that had several buildings on its campus, one building for assisted care, and another for skilled.  They would be able to spend time with each other during the day at least.  But I was not going to give up.  This was not good enough.

So we contacted the county for assistance again, and this time we found a facility that would handle both levels of care.  But now there was a different hitch.  My father a long time ago had done what he thought was the right thing, and purchased additional health insurance to supplement their medicare.  And it would be that supplemental insurance that would prevent his admission to the nursing home that would accept both of their needs.

With my father heading toward hospice level care, and my stepmother already admitted to the home, my brother and I made the decision to cancel my father’s supplemental insurance which was keeping him from being admitted, and had the potential to keep him from ever seeing his wife again.

Twenty four hours later, we got the news, the home would accept my father.  Both he and my stepmother would be together again.

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His admission did not go off without a hitch however.  Upon my arrival before my dad, the administrator had given me a good news/bad news scenario.  The home had gone so far as to arrange for the two of them to be in the same room with each other, which actually went beyond what we could have hoped.  But my stepmother had made a decision, she did not want to be in the same room.  My dad had a habit of watching television all night long, and loud, and my stepmother in the time that my father had been hospitalized had become accustomed to silence while sleeping.  We laughed about the situation, because unfortunately he was expecting to be in her room.  He blew her reluctance off, saying she was just mad and would get over it in a day.

The next day, the “old goat” as my stepmother referred to my father, had pushed the empty bed in his room that was meant for my stepmother, against his bed, making his own “king” sized bed.  When questioned by the staff what he was doing, “my wife is going to be sleeping with me tonight.”  We all laughed uncomfortably because we were pretty sure that… well… he meant “sleep”.  After all, I know I have heard of some stories of “romantic rendezvous” in nursing homes.

They never did go into the same room with each other.  But they did have meals, play games, and listened to music with each other, just as they did for over 40 years.

the day he passed

This is the final photo of my father and stepmother.  Because of the efforts of my brother and I, county workers, and so many more, we were able to accomplish the “right thing”.  He would pass shortly after this photo was taken, but as if a Hollywood movie script, in the end, they were together, as he had been her caregiver for so long, it was her turn to be there for him.

If there was anything good to have come from this situation…

 

When You Don’t Get Another Chance


regrets

I learned about this expression a long time ago.  It was a very painful lesson, one that my father took with him to his grave.

Though I do not recall the year that it happened, I do remember that the event happened just days before Christmas, many years ago.  My father and my stepmother were having a discussion about insurance issues, that progressed into an argument.  They still had some last minute Christmas shopping to do.  They left their house just moments apart, my father first.  He got into his car, started the engine, then looked across the street to where my stepmother was now beginning to cross during the dusk hour of the evening.  And then it happened.  My stepmother never saw the car that hit her, and the injuries were critical and extreme.

On the plus side she would eventually recover enough to be released from the rehab facility, but clearly nowhere near a 100% recovery, if even 50%.  She also would have no memory of the accident itself.  And no memory of the accident, also meant that she had no idea of the discussion that the two of them were having that evening, before the accident.

For my father, that meant he would never have any opportunity to apologize for the conversation that evening, and bore 100% responsibility for the accident itself, feeling that if he had not left the house in such an angered rush, he would have been walking across the street with her, and being able to prevent her from being in the path of the oncoming car.  Yes, my father took that evening with him to his grave.

The fact of the matter is, there is always going to be that chance that we never get the opportunity to make things right, once it is taken away from us.

Anyone who has followed “Paul’s Heart”, knows that my daughters mean the world to me.  They are everything.  Every night (prior to my divorce filing), I held them.  I gave them a goodnight kiss.  And I told them that I loved them.

On April 16, 2008, I had a conversation with my daughters that I was going to be going away overnight.  Being they were only five and three years of age, I could only give them minimal information.  I told them that I was going to be going to the doctor, and it was going to get real late, so I would be staying overnight.  I gave them their kiss, and told them I loved them.  This would be the first time that we would be apart, ever.

As it was planned, I was going to have a minimally invasive cardiac procedure, and I expected no differently than to return home later the next day.  Unfortunately, that is not what happened.

I was informed by the doctors that the damage was not only unexpected, but not caused by common ailments.  The main artery going to my heart had become so scarred from radiation damage eighteen years earlier, I had a condition referred to unprofessionally as, a “widow maker.”  I was going to need emergency heart bypass surgery in less than 24 hours.  I would not be going home.  I would not get to see my daughters again until at the very least, unless the surgery would be successful.

The next several hours went by so quickly between the anesthesia wearing off from the procedure done earlier, followed by all the pre-surgery testing I had to go through, because doctors were dealing with a situation, that they did not have a lot of experience dealing with, a long term cancer survivor.

When the night finally slowed down, and I waited for the orderly to come for me, to take me to surgery, 6:00 arrived, and I arranged with my daughter’s mother to speak to them on the phone.  I could not hold them.  I could not see them.  They could not see that I was scared that I might not see them again.  All I could do is tell them that I loved them.  If everything went well, it would be at least another two days before I was even able to talk to them on the phone.

This is a time period that to this day causes me such sadness.

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A week later, I was sent home, with my two very happy and caring little girls.  They knew that I had a very bad “boo boo” on my chest, and they took very good care of me.  Today, they understand that my health is not like everyone else.  And that is why I am doing all that I can to deal with the divorce issues with their mother so that the four of us can go on in the direction that we have chosen.  I do not want to ever have the situation again, that I did not get that one last chance with my daughters.

I have had two very extreme lessons in my life, about second chances, actually a lot more, but only used two for this post.  But you get the idea.  It is okay to have an argument.  But it is better to resolve it when you have the chance.  A lifetime of guilt is a horrible cross to bear.

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