Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “The Heart”

20 May 2025

If My Dad Were Here


This picture still wrecks me, from eleven years ago, the final photo of my Dad and I. He passed away eleven years ago from lung cancer. Eleven years ago was such a complicated time for me, filled with conflict, preventing the most crucial opportunities to this day, I have been unable to attain, closure and grief. As I consider writing a valuable tool in dealing with emotions and thoughts, I wrote “My Dad Was Just Like Me,” which ended up being performed, see the link below:

Each year as this date passes, I relive that time period that culminated on this date, a date that had another significance that until that moment, I barely gave any thought, the anniversary of my first marriage. Forever more, this date would have a more lasting impact and memory. This year’s anniversary of my Dad’s passing has hit me differently though. Sure, another year has gone by that I wish he could see how his granddaughters have grown. Another year, both my daughters now in their twenties, having the relationship with their father that I know my father and I wish we could have had with me.

This anniversary there is a more stark reminder. I want to preface this, by saying what I am going to mention sounds serious, and it is, but with proper perspective which I believe that I have, is not only not scary, but oddly enough, under total control. A nodule on my lung, identified back in 2008 on a chest x-ray prior to my heart bypass, over the last sixteen years, has grown, now being labelled as “most consistent with an indolent lung adenocarcinoma,” lung cancer. When anyone hears me discuss this, their immediate reactions are all pretty much alike, shock, jaws hitting the floor. But oddly, with all the time I have spent immersed in this world of cancer survivorship, I am able to keep perspective, a grander view of the big picture.

I used the word “labelled” on purpose. It is not officially a diagnosis. I am now seeing one of the top doctors in the country, yes, the writing is on the wall, the diagnosis is on my doorstep. If you will, “if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck…”. The truth is this nodule, one of many that have developed over the years, has grown from barely identifiable back in 2008, to 13mm today. And it got the attention of a pulmonologist who wanted to be a bit more aggressive about it. And you would think with the history of my Dad’s lung cancer, certainly I would take this situation as serously as I could.

Out of all the nodules, I have two more which have begun to be recognizable and grow in size, with the remainder still just “spots.” But from the beginning, this one nodule, a make-up described as “ground glass”, was not believe to pose any imminent threat. To most, the thought would be, “well if it’s cancer, and not too bad yet, get it out of there.” Unfortunately, with my health history and my treatment for Hodgkin’s lymphoma, there are many extra risks with any kind of surgery I undergo. So the school of thought has always been, “watch and wait.” Watch the nodule for growth (how much and how fast, which meant annual CT scans) or changes in shape or make-up. And over 16 years, just as the description says, “indolent” this nodule has grown slowly, until recently anyway.

Again, remembering my Father, whose lung cancer was from smoking, not radiation therapy, but still concerning regardless of the cause, the initial pulmonologist wanted to do a biopsy to confirm the diagnosis. But as I said, this would be risky, a needle biopsy I risked a collapsed lung which could lead to complications. The alternative, what he called a “wedge” surgery, removing the nodule and the surrounding area of the lung, could be even more complicated.

Here is where I put the brakes on, as the doctor seemed to not listen to my immediate concern. My Father was Stage 1, best case scenario with a great prognosis. The did a partial lobectomy (removing part of the lung lobe). Just as a precaution, the oncologist recommended preventative chemotherapy, which from my experience and knowledge, I felt this would be safe and help my Dad maintain remission. But upon completion, the doctor then announced that he wanted my Father to undergo preventative radiation treatments. And that is when the shit hit the fan. My Dad went from Stage 1, to remission, to terminal, within months. To this day, I have no idea what happened, what could have been missed. But now triggered, I find myself in a similar position, a simple cancer, doctors wanting to remove it, and then likely treatments after that.

I would like to think that I have had great doctors, great health advocates. They not only have taken care of all of my complicated health issues, but they also been great listeners, and they care about their patients. As has happened previously, one of my main doctors recognizing my anxiety referred me to a different pulmonologist, one of the top doctors in this area of specialty. I met with her, and together we came to the agreement, now is not the time to do anything invasive or traumatic. She made it clear, she does have a red line, which does buy me more time, before I am faced once again with my mortality, now with my lungs. At the rate of growth, I expect that time to be approximately three years, at which point, an accurate diagnosis, or rather confirmation will be made. And I will go from there.

I have so much more that I want to experience, but it is the last thing that I experienced with my Father, which took him away from me, now guides me. I want to have the time with my daughters as adults, that he and I were able to have. And I know that he would be proud of how all of us got through what we have over the years.

Dad, I miss you so much. I wish you were here.

Posted in Cancer, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart | Leave a comment
16 Apr 2025

A Question Of “When”


Of all dates that I recognize, or “anniversarize,” this is likely my most difficult and traumatic, even more so than my original diagnosis of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma back in 1988. At the age of 22, being told I had cancer, has only left me with a surreal feeling, having survived cancer more than thirty-five years, should be filled with many anniversaries and milestones. Not once did I ever allow myself to think of anything other than reaching, and remaining in remission, for the rest of my life.

That all changed in April of 2008, when by chance, I got annoyed with a pain/chest tightness I experienced multiple times a day, for at least four months, and finally reached out to my family doctor. On a hunch, she ordered a “nuclear stress test,” not looking for anything in particular, definitely not what would eventually be discovered. Part way into that test, the testing was stopped as “something” became apparently concerning. Thirty-six hours later, at the age of 42, I was on an operating table having emergency bypass surgery. I was expected to have a triple bypass, but in the end, only had two completed. As my original angiogram above shows, I had what was diagnosed as blockage of the left anterior descending artery (LAD), less nerdy known as a “widow maker.” While I may likely have to explain the physiology of the LAD, you get the idea without explaination, what a “widow maker” references.

That phone call that I made, prevented what could have easily ended up being a fatal heart attack. My doctor making the arrangement for the test instead of me, likely saved weeks or months in delays to be scheduled as most have experienced trying to get something health related scheduled. But it was the comment by my newest doctor, a cardiologist, that jarred me the most I have ever experienced and to this day, triggers my PTSD, even more so that my experiences with cancer. “It wasn’t a question ‘if’ you were going to die, but ‘when’.” At 42 years old, I was slapped in the face with my mortality.

Unlike when I went through my treatments for Hodgkin’s, I did that for me, surviving this episode with my heart, I needed to get through this for someone other than me, two someones.

When I left the house that morning of the test, I said “I love you” and goodbye to my daughters as they were off to daycare and kindergarten. I would see them at the end of the day after school. That never happened. I did not get that chance, because everything was put into hyper motion to get me set for emergency heart surgery the next morning. I was devastated thinking I would never get to see my daughters ever again. I was actually facing my mortality, though for the second time, with the risks involved, that mortality was more imminent this time. At that time, my daughters already had friends who had lost their father, and to cardiac disease. The cause of my heart problem was not the typical cause, but rather late developing side effects from my cancer treatments. That changed nothing in regard to the fact, my daughters could very well lose their Dad. And it broke me that I could not hold them one last time before the surgery and tell them that I loved them. And that seemed to drive me all the more, that I needed to get through this surgery.

The story is a bit more complicated than I can put in one blog post, or what I really want to make this post about. But as you can see, the story has ended happily, not without other twists and turns with my health and other issues. But my daughters still have their Dad, and I still have them, seventeen years later, both now in college, and I have gotten to witness that.

My daughters were too young at the time to understand what was happening back in that time. And conversations were kept to age appropriate information, even when they had been brought into the hospital four days following my surgery, I still hooked up to machines, with tubes coming out of me, it was a necessary reunion to let them know “Daddy was going to be fine.” And for me, I had something inside me that pulled me through this crisis that I did not know that I had. My daughters and my love for them is what got me through this.

Every day, I make sure that my daughters know what they mean to me and they remind me what I mean to them, a bond between this girl dad and his daughters, never to be broken. My daughters believe that I can get through anything, that I am their protector, there for them at any moment of need, and do all I can to prepare them for the world. And as they reads this, I hope they know that from the days they were placed in my arms, they gave me purpose, a reason for living, unconditional, stronger than I could ever know existed.

I do not take for granted all of the extra time that I have gotten with them, the bedtimes, birthday parties, special school dances, and of course graduations, and these are all memories that they are able to have. And as they begin their adulthood, I have more time to be their example of how they deserve to be treated, what love, safety, and respect look like, and how important that needs to be to them.

As hard as this day is for me, I need to write this post annually, just as a reminder, my life did not end with that surgery, it continued. And it is my hope that I get to celebrate more of these years. It is not easy, as I do have other health issues related to my Hodgkin’s survival, but for now, they are all managed and dealt with as needed. And my daughters are now old enough, and there with me every step of the way. And that gives me a whole other level of strength and fight, not just for me, but for them.

Posted in Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart | Leave a comment
03 Mar 2025

In Between Milestones – 35 Years, Still A Big Deal


When celebrating anniversaries, we make a big deal out of major anniversaries, such as 1st, 5th, 25th, and of course, 50th. In the world of cancer survivorship, many of my fellow survivors and I do the same thing with our anniversaries, though several of us recognize our anniversaries differently. Some will recognize the day that they are told they are in remission, and others, including myself, celebrate the day that I was done with my treatments. The photo above, was taken one year after I was done with my treatment, which means the photo was taken thirty-four years ago. That is right, today I am 35 years in remission!

I think I might actually even look younger today than I did back then.

In November of 1988, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, back then it was called Hodgkin’s Disease. My cancer was staged at 3B, almost as bad as one can have it. I underwent some of the most toxic treatments of chemotherapy and radiation therapy to be able to hear the words “you are in remission.” And though I would get to hear “remission” half-way through my treatments, my doctor wanted me to finish the course, the entire plan of treatments, taking my last dose of medicine on March 3, 1990. That was 35 years ago!

Up to, and including the time I was diagnosed, all I ever knew about cancer, was that people died from it. There was no internet for me in 1988, so all I had to hear about cancer, came from the television news or newspapers, that people died of cancer. You never heard of people surviving cancer. And it was not good enough as a patient to hear about something called a “5-year survival rate,” in spite of this survival rate for Hodgkin’s being well into the mid-80 percentage, at the age of 23 years old, I wanted to live much longer than five years. I believed that I could, especially if the cancer was gone, but I had never heard of anyone surviving long term. At the time, my grandmother was in remission for breast cancer two years, my only reference to anyone surviving cancer. Again, no access to the internet, I had no idea of the inspiration that was out there, people living after cancer, 30, 40, 50 years and more.

But that time would come soon enough, buying my first computer, getting an AOL account, and finding a “listserve” of other Hodgkin’s survivors, some still in treatment, some finished with treatment, and here they were, some who had survived decades. I saw that long term survivorship from cancer could be mine.

There were other things that I learned as time went on, something that even science and medicine were not aware of or prepared for, if we were going to live longer than those five years, that meant that there would be a possibility that we could develop late side effects from the treatments, though what side effects were not known. This was not studied. But this community of survivors I discovered, were sharing this knowledge among each other, and where help with these effects, and doctors who have knowledge of late side effects, could be found. This would come in handy myself, because over 17 years after I finished treatments, the first late effect from my treatments was discovered, in the form of a “widow maker” blockage with my heart, caused by the high dose of radiation that I received. This would be the beginning of many issues that would be discovered over the next 18 years for me. But I want to stress two things, first, not everyone who goes through treatments develops these side effects, and second, as bad as some of these issues got, the proper intervention has given me so many more years, and I have been blessed with so many opportunities and memories.

The fascinating thing is, over 35 years, I have been witness to progress, actually getting to see it, how Hodgkin’s get diagnosed, no more destructive and invasive staging procedures. The toxic and extreme treatments that I and many others were exposed to back in the 1960’s, the 1970’s, 1980’s, and 1990’s, with medicine’s knowledge, those very treatments had a good possibility of killing us, are no longer being used. I can tell you that treatments today are just as effective, and though still not pleasant, are more tolerable and safer. I have gotten to witness this progress.

The best part of my 35 years of survivorship, has been having the opportunity of being Dad to the best daughters a Dad could ever hope for. They were not around for my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, but from the first appearance of a late side effect, they have been my motivation and inspiration to not give up. There has been so much that I have gotten to experience with my daughters, now both in college, I really did not ever think I would see this day, yet here I am.

I cannot recognize today however, without recognizing others in my Hodgkin’s family over these thirty-five years. First, all of my new Hodgkin’s friends currently going through treatment yet. I hope that whether you hear of me through “Paul’s Heart”, or have read my book, “Paul’s Heart – Life As A Dad And A 35-Year Cancer Survivor,” follow me on TikTok, YouTube, Facebook, or Instagram, I hope you being able to follow someone who has been a survivor for four decades to be inspiring to you, that you too will have a long and fruitful life ahead of you.

Then there are all of the survivors that have come into my life over all of these years. I have known many of you nearly my entire survivorship. And even more inspiring to me, is that so many of you have survived even longer than I have, forty and fifty years or more! I do not take any day that I have for granted, but seeing how far you have come, gives me hope that I can see that longevity also.

If there is one thing that remains so cruel, sadly, there are some that are not here with me to recognize this day. Some, their bodies just no longer able to take the trauma of decades of late side effects, and even one, barely getting to enjoy a few months out of treatments. I miss you all to this day. I remember you all and the joy you shared with me while we were able to survive together. I wish there was a rhyme or reason, why we do not have a 100% cure rate when we are so close right now! Though progress has been made in safer and more effective treatments, it is not good enough.

The counter on this page now is set for March 3, 2030, which will mark 40 years as a cancer survivor. That is a milestone I want to reach, and likely, with my daughters, hopefully not the only other milestones I get to witness.

Posted in Adoption, Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart and tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Post Navigation

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →