Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “The Heart”

An Odd Comparison Between Cancer And Covid19


Back from “stay-cation.”  Unable to go anywhere because for some reason, we are still dealing with Covid19, with no end in sight, I simply stepped away from my laptop and my smartphone to avoid any kind of headlines, fairly certain things were not going to be changing anytime soon.  Of course, without flipping my laptop open, that meant no writing.

One of the “prompts” that I had in my mind to write once I dusted off my keyboard, actually was an expansion of a topic that I wrote about some time ago, in reference to the belief at one time, that cancer was contagious.  As I often do, I am going to preface this post, that I do not want the post to reflect a political lean, and will do my best to keep it from going there.  Honestly, it may not be possible.  At the end, I think you will understand why.

Speaking only of myself, in 1988, I knew of no one who had survived except for two family members.  I knew of no one outside of my family, including friends and their families who may have had cancer.  Those battling cancer today may not understand this, because of having social media.

When the news broke at work that I was diagnosed with cancer, the immediate impression I felt from everyone, was that of impending death.  Everyone dies of cancer.  And now 50 people actually learned of their first known instance of someone with cancer, quite possibly.

From diagnosis to final treatment, I spent nearly eighteen months mostly isolated.  Sure, I went to work, but co-workers avoided me.  At home, I had no visitors.  For eighteen months.

Through my years of survivorship, I have learned a lot about cancer, and the many psychological effects over the decades, and in the past, even before my time.  It turns out, there was a lot more about cancer to learn besides the fact that not everyone dies from cancer.  One big myth that existed at least  up until my diagnosis, was that cancer was contagious.

That’s right, there was actually a belief that cancer was contagious, and that was without social media to spread that untruth.  But by the same token, social media was not there to correct it either.  It was one thing for those not in my family to be afraid of “catching cancer” from me, which cancer has the potential to be fatal, but this also occurred with some in my family as well, including my newlywed wife (#1).

She never talked about it, but I could sense it.  She was afraid that she could catch cancer from me.  But I could also tell, she was worried about being “poisoned” from my treatments, especially during any times of intimacy.

This is the way people thought back then.  A deadly disease, not contagious, caused people to avoid those who had it for their “safety.”

Now, here it comes.  The year 2020, over 30 years since my cancer, Covid19.  A deadly virus (approaching 180,000 deaths in the US as of this post), highly contagious.

Unlike my time back with cancer, where you were fortunate that cancer was ever spoken in your circles, today, odds are pretty good that nearly everyone knows of at least one person who has been diagnosed with Covid19, or worse, has died from Covid19.  Personally speaking, my statistics with knowledge of personal Covid19 cases is much lower than my world of cancer, but it has led me to go “hmmm” in deep thought.

With my cancer, not contagious, people avoided me.  They could not catch it from me, but they avoided me nonetheless.

With Covid19, highly contagious, we have two different types of thought, prevent or deny.  And this is where it gets confusing to me.  I am a big science and fact guy, because of my health history.  I have been through several other potential contagious health crisis, but none as severe as Covid19.  But we have the warnings and advice.  All we need to do is follow it.  That is the school of thought when it comes to prevent getting Covid19.

But what makes someone go to the extreme of not just denying the existence of Covid19, but to actually fight efforts to prevent or protect?

When we had a disease that was not contagious, but deadly, people acted.

When we have a disease that is contagious, and deadly, we have too many that either just do not care or deny.

I said I was not going to get political, and I have done my best to prevent that position, but it really is the only reasoning I can come up with.  Initially, when the news of Covid19 broke, it appeared an opportunity to criticize the president, which clearly his supporters objected to.  And to be fair, although I do not approve of the president, he did not cause the virus.  But that still should not be a reason for rational and intelligent human beings recognizing the severity and danger of the coming pandemic.

But as the pandemic got worse, and again, being fair, I myself expected more out of any president, in a response to preparations for the pandemic, which six months later we still do not have, the criticism, now deserved, has only entrenched the president’s supporters and their efforts to protect him, even if it means denying their own safety, or their respect for the safety of others.

There are so many shiny objects and conspiracy theories flying around now, making this even more of a dangerous time, because it now risks being able to bring an end to this pandemic.  We know the advice, and that is what it is, advice, what we can do voluntarily, but those who deny, see this advice as a “conformity” or “sacrifice of freedom and liberty.”  I can only imagine how it would have played out decades ago with cancer, when we were told to eat healthier to prevent cancer or quit smoking.

Like I said, not trying to be political about this.  Just from a psychological standpoint, trying to figure out how our thinking about a deadly virus, contagious or not, can have such a different and expected response.  It makes absolutely no sense to me, that dozens of people are willing to cram a music club or party, ignoring the recommendations, just to prove you can, and to prove others wrong.  I personally know of two people who ended up having to eat their words as they contracted the virus themselves.

The advice given will work.  We can function as a society.  The alternative, accepting a death toll as “it is what it is,” is not acceptable to me, anymore than someone dying from cancer.  It is not what it is, especially when it can be prevented.

I wish for everyone reading this, good health, stay healthy, stay smart.

You Were Always There For Me


Well, this story was not supposed to take this long to come out, but as the organization that was supposed to publish it, got delayed because of Covid19, I have decided not to wait any longer.

So, this is a project that I do every year.  It is a short story piece that I write and submit for publishing.  This year I had decided to write about experiences with my late fur friend, but from his point of view.  I hope you enjoy it.

I want to thank fellow long term cancer survivor and author Lara Vaughan Lazenby for her help with this story.

 

You Were Always There For Me

Hi there.  My name is Pollo, pronounced like the cologne, but spelled like Spanish chicken.  I do not know why I was given that name.  But hearing it has always made me happy, and I heard my name a lot.

Paul always seemed to know what I liked, and what was best for me.  In fact, I knew I could always count on Paul.  There was this one time he took me swimming, because I really liked the water.  I was a really good swimmer too!  I think I had fun because all I remember of that day is one moment I was splashing away, and the next, I was running from this other person wearing a white coat, towards Paul.  His eyes were leaking.  I did not understand this.

Fortunately, I would remember everything else as I got older.  Like this one time, Paul went out the front door, but did not come back in, for six lights and darks.  This was unusual, because Paul never went anywhere without me.  We were buddies.  When he finally came home, I was so happy.  And I let him know it too.  My tail wagged so hard and fast, it knocked everything over within reach.

But there was something odd about Paul.  He did not seem like himself.  He actually smelled kind of funny.  I have never experienced that smell before – not from the house, the car, outside – very unusual.

Paul was happy to see me too, though he could have been a bit more excited.  Something was different about him.  When he would feel better, we could get back to normal and play.  In the meantime, I just sat beside him, stared up at him, with my head on his knee.  He had always taken care of me.  It was my turn to take care of him.

Another situation would happen again, only this time, strange men came into our house, woke us up, and then took Paul away on a bed with wheels.  It would be days before I would see him again, and he came home with that same odor.  I did not like that smell.

I could not understand why this kept happening to him.  We liked to play and have fun.  I missed that.  From what I could comprehend, Paul was sick a long time ago, and these events that kept happening to him were because of that.  The important thing… he kept coming back home.

And it was a good thing.  Because I found myself needing attention too.  Being a golden retriever, I loved to eat… everything.  This one time, I found this thing in the ground.  It was so yummy, but soon after, my head started feeling funny.  Then my stomach.  Paul had to take me back to those people with the white coats again.  And just like Paul, I came home.  Every time.  You see, I kept on doing it.  They were so yummy.

We both got older, although I feel like I got older more quickly.  Of course, my backyard habit did not help every time I ate those things.  Paul and I hung around the house a lot more than we used to.  I guess we each had our own reason.  I was happy to just sit next to him, or on him, and have him scratch my ears.  I really loved that.

We kept taking turns going away.  Paul seemed to do it a lot more, but he always came home to me.  He needed me.  He could depend on me.  And I could depend on him.

There came a time when things got really quiet in our house.  It was also more dark inside the house and outside.  Paul turned on lights making it brighter for him, but the funny thing was, it did not get brighter for me.  I could not get up the stairs anymore, so Paul made sure I had a comfy place to sleep downstairs not just occasionally, but all the time!  He always took great care of me.

One morning, Paul came downstairs right on time to let me outside.  He caught me by surprise, but I knew it was him.  I could feel it.  I stood up, stretched.  He opened up the door.  But I did not move.  I could not.  Just then, I felt myself being lifted… but in such a way that I felt as if I was being tightly hugged.  I could not see him, hear him, or smell him.  But I knew it was Paul.  We always took care of each other.  He always knew what to do.  I liked when he hugged me so tight.  But all I wanted to do now, was run again.  Now I can.  Paul made sure of that, just like he promised.

Cancer’s Effect On The Smile


Sure, the last thing you expect to associate with the word cancer, is “smile.”  This post is not about the emotional impact on the smile of a cancer patient or survivor.  Like many of the issues medicine never prepared us survivors for way back when, was the impact that our cancer treatments could have on our teeth.  And seeing how we only have one set of our adult teeth, it is obvious we need to take care of what we have.

But we can only do so much preventative, such as flossing, brushing, and using mouthwashes with preventative care.  We can also take supplemental vitamins and make sure we eat or drink enough Vitamin D and calcium loaded drinks and food.

Radiation and high dose prednisone treatments though have a huge impact on our teeth, and our jaw bones, in strength and healing.  And it is important to know as much as possible about your individual exposure, so that your dentist or oral surgeon can make the choice that is best for you.

For me, because I have no spleen on top of everything else, there is an extra level of precaution I must take, whether for a standard cleaning, filling a cavity, or an extraction.  I typically take an antibiotic a few days before any procedure, just to make sure I do not have any stray bacteria that could cause any problems for me with an infection afterwards.

Once I get passed my initial hesitation of going to the dentist, something my dentist can attest to, is a major task.  For a while, I would have been more calm going to my cardiologist than my dentist.  No pun intended, but my dentist went above and beyond to get to the “root” of the fear.  It took her several months to alleviate my concerns, but she soon earned my trust when it came to pain management during procedures.  Most patients, if not every one, may not be aware that when you are given novacaine prior, if you still have sensation, you are able to ask for more.  I was always under the assumption, that was it.  All those years, I was given just the first dose, of a possible twelve.  She could see in my eyes, I was still having sensation, and stopped what she was doing, and asked, “can you still feel that?”  To which I answered, “yes”.  A motherly lecture followed about telling her if I needed more, and that was followed by another dose, and the procedure went on.

For the most part, that is how my simple appointments go, cleaning, exams, and cavity repairs.  It is when things get more complicated, when I hear the word “crown”, root canal, abscess… that is when things get really complicated, besides expensive.  With or without dental insurance, any of these three options are expensive, and out of my scope, not just because of money, but risk.

Because of the high dose radiation to my upper body for my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and the high dose prednisone I took as part of my chemotherapy, healing and stability are compromised when it comes to dental work.

I am lucky.  For the most part, I have done well taking care of my teeth, especially those in the front.  As for the ones in the back of my mouth, closer to the radiated neck area, it is a different story.  Since my heart surgery in 2008, also courtesy of radiation damage, I have had to lose four teeth, three to abscesses, and one to a broken tooth.  The broken tooth was going to require a crown, which I could not afford, and the abscessed teeth, were going to require root canals and crowns.  I definitely could not afford.

I needed to have them pulled.  Now of course no one wants to lose teeth, so then conversations began about other options, such as bridges and implants.  Still, both expensive options, and potentially quite harmful.  One of the potential risks I faced, was something called “osteonecrosis”, which literally means “death of bone”, and to my jaw, that is not good.  That left me no other choice, than to surrender those four chompers.  The good thing is, all are in the rear of my mouth, so only I am aware of that, and my dentist and hygienist.

Some antibiotics before and after, some gas, some novocaine, and I was good to go.  Sort of.

Again, as I have spoken before of healing issues when it comes to the bones in my body, the jaw is one of those bones.  There is going to be a huge hole in my jaw, that needs to heal, at the least have some help doing so.  My first two teeth, I went into blind not knowing about what I am writing about now.  But for my next two, and potentially any more that may come up, I needed to be aware of the risks of healing.

One option, and really the only one that gets offered, is hyperbaric treatments.  This involves breathing oxygen in a pressurized chamber.  For the average person, not a big deal, and often used to regenerate a person’s energy and health.  And in my case, it was recommended, rather, required before I could have any teeth pulled and after.  Besides the obvious expense I could not afford, because of another chemotherapy drug, Bleomycin, I am not able to go through any treatment involving oxygen.  A complicated issue that I cannot cover in this post.  But with this option off the table, I had no one able or willing to pull those two teeth.  Which means my situation risked getting way worse, if something developed with the abscesses.

Then I met an oral surgeon who offered a new type of treatment for the hole left in my jaw.  It is called “platelet rich plasma” or PRP for short.  Basically, they use your own blood, spin the hell out of it, leaving only the plasma, and inject that into the hole of the bone to enhance healing, and then stitch up the gum.  It is a bit more complicated, but this is now the new technology available, not just when it comes to any tooth work, but any kind of injury that would require another treatment impacted by my cancer and treatment past.  And because it will not involve any further cosmetic option, it is also less costly.

More importantly, it works.  So far, 2 for 2.  The oral surgeon not only understands my past, but respects my knowledge of what I have gone through, and that helps him to do what is right for me.  Of course I hope I am done, but the realist in me knows I am likely to have more that will come out.  But at least I know I have a good option.  And I am still able to keep that smile.

 

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