Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Understanding Steroids


When we think of steroid use, two popular examples come to mind, pro-wrestling and professional sports.  Steroids of course increase size, strength, and power.  Long since banned in most activities, steroids do have an actual medicinal use, and there is a likelihood at some point in your life, you may have, or will be given some form of a steroid.

Doctors often prescribe steroids to help relieve pain or inflammation, or in the case of breathing issues such as asthma and allergies, much needed relief.  In fact, during my days of chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma over thirty years ago, Prednisone, a popular steroid, was part of my chemotherapy cocktail to help rebuild muscle cells killed off from the chemo attacking all healthy cells.

Prednisone is often considered a quick fix to certain situations, like the time I had an extreme case of poison oak exposure.  I have also seen it used in cases of respiratory attacks resulting from COPD or other lung issues.

But there is a dangerous side to using steroids, requiring monitoring by a doctor, which is why they have to be prescribed.  Depending on how the pill prednisone is taken, most times it is prescribed in a “step-down” manner, 6 pills one day, 5 pills the next day, 4 pills the following day, and so on until you get to the last single pill on that final day.  This is because as the medicine helps you, it also leaves you vulnerable by repressing your immune system, simply put, it shuts down your immune system while you are on it, leaving you vulnerable to illnesses and infections.

Medically, there are a whole range of other issues a result of taking steroids.  Forget the muscular, but the skeletal, high dose usage can lead to Osteopenia.  If that sounds familiar, because it is related to Osteoperosis.  One of my long term issues is Osteopenia as a result of the 8 months I took the high doses of prednisone.  I am at an increased risk of breaking something if I fall.

Basically, steroids can have an impact on any number of systems of the body.  The most critical, is the cardiac system.  Which is why it is so important, as we are still dealing with finding a way to treat Covid19, though Dexamethasone (a steroid) is showing promise as a treatment for advanced disease.  But to someone who has cardiac disease, or worse, is not aware they have cardiac disease, steroids can cause permanent, if not fatal damage.

One fact about steroids I was unware of, false positive testing results.  I used to be employed in an area that required annual Tuberculosis testing.  One year, I ran late with the surveillance, and prior to that testing, I received an injection of Depimidrel, an oil based steroid for seasonal allergies I got, only once a year.  Clearly I did not have TB, but the test resulted in a false positive, requiring a chest x-ray to confirm that I did not.  Depending on the situation, this can cause quite a problem.

Steroid use also causes an increase in hunger, and also fluid retention, resulting in what a lot of my fellow Hodgkin’s survivors refer to as “moon face”, a result of an extreme weight gain from the months on that drug.  I actually gained 50 pounds while on chemotherapy for that reason.  So, at the end, I looked nothing like the stereotypical waif-like chemo patient, other than my bald head.

But currently, steroids are getting a bit more recognition, because of Covid19, and one particular patient receiving them, the President.  To be clear, this is not a political post!  Steroids can and usually do, have any number of psychological impacts on the patient that takes them.  Issue range from depression, amnesia, anxiety, irritability, anger, inability to concentrate, rage, and so on.

Think about it.  If you are old enough to remember when steroid use was prevalent in the NFL, how many really aggressive players that were, resulting in other players getting hurt.  Too many athletes on steroids committed suicides.

But I was not a professional athlete.  I was a cancer patient.  And I was warned by my oncologist, that mood swings were a huge concern.  I scoffed at him, because I was, and still am, a real chill person.  Boy was I wrong.

About halfway through my treatments, while at work, I was having issues with a co-worker, who was a bit disgruntled over his pay.  He was known to challenge others in spite of the fact that we were forbidden from discussing payroll among each other, and as it turned out, for good reason.

He had been after me for quite a while about how much he thought I made, and he was not happy about it.  I had been there less time than him, but I seemed to have more responsibilities and relied on more.  We were not union, so that was not a concern.  But he caught me the wrong way on the wrong day.  I snapped.

Uncharacteristically for me, I exploded.  “Jesus Christ!”  And I whipped out my payroll stub to shut him up, and prove to him once and for all, that he made more money and to leave me the Hell alone.

Oops.  In spite of me being there less time, it turned out, I was being paid more, for whatever the reason.  But now a whole other can of worms had been opened, violating company policy on discussing individual payroll.

My point is this, it is not just mainstream media making an issue about the president being given Dexamethasone for treating his Covid19.  The concerns about receiving the high dosages of steroids is legitimate.  And given his position, and the decisions that need to be made, combined with his temperament, the concerns for any ill emotional reaction is a big deal.

To get through his treatment, is expected to last more than a week, and then the drug itself must leave the body, taking another one to two days.  It is easy for this former steroid patient for me to see the effects that the medicine is having on the president.

Voter Fraud This Is Not – Part 2


Here it is.  My official “mail-in” ballot.  IT IS THE ONLY ONE THAT I HAVE RECIEVED!  If you recall, in the first part of my “not voter fraud” post, I shared with you several items that I did receive that some people perceive as “ballot” material, which those items were not.  Though I have redacted bar codes and certain information, you can still tell that this belongs to me.

Now I know, there is the chance that someone might say, they have received multiple ballots, or even dead people have received them.  No, they do not.  If you received another ballot, it is because there was a mistake that has been corrected, and those very bar codes like you see on my packet, will no longer work on the incorrect ballot.  And the only way that a dead person will receive this is after they have died before the system has been able to catch up before ballots get mailed out.  Now, that that is out of the way.

So, the most important thing inside the packet, is the ballot itself.  My ballot happens to be 3 pages, but I have only pictured the first.  And of course, I had not filled it out just yet.  But this is the exact same ballot that I would receive, voting in person.

The next part, is really interesting.  The Secrecy Sleeve.

It is just a piece of paper, with instructions on how to secure your ballot, privately.  And to do this…

you fold the “secrecy sleeve” in half, and place the ballot inside.  And ta-da, you ballot is cast in secret.

Next, you place the ballot in the envelope that is supplied.  On the back side, is your affidavit that the ballot is yours and that you have filled it out.  It has the bar code to register that you cast your ballot, and… AND… it has a place for you to provide your signature.  That’s right, you have to sign your mail-in ballot.

Here is where the “criers” chirp the loudest.  “Nobody will check the signatures!”  Of course they will get checked.  The bar code will bring up the signature to compare the signatures, and just as if you were in person, if the signatures were not close enough, the ballot would be rejected.  Having voted in person, I have had my signature rejected in person, even providing my driver’s license.

And with that, I filled out my ballot, folded it in half, and placed inside the “secrecy sleeve”, and sealed the envelope.

Only one thing left to do, put postage on it, and mail it.  The one thing people may not be aware of, is the extra postage needed because of the larger envelope.  POSTAGE TO MAIL YOUR BALLOT IS $.70!  Again, there is a bar code on the envelope.  Why?  It allows you to confirm that your ballot was received, and cannot be submitted again.

NO VOTER FRAUD WITH THIS BALLOT!

These are difficult days for us as a country because of Covid19.  But even without Covid19, there are difficulties with voting and voter suppression.  Polling places being shut down, limiting access.  Drop boxes being eliminated.  And even difficulties with registering to vote in the first place.

Our right to vote is one of the most important rights we have as an American.  I have several options that make it fairly easy to vote, whether in person, early voting, or by mail.  And it is my right to choose how I vote.  I do not buy into conspiracy theories while at the same time, I do acknowledge that there can be problems, just not widespread enough to affect an outcome.

It does just so happen, I am one of the “vulnerable” to Covid19.  And though there are some who feel the need to “shame” people whether with words or memes, that if you can “stand in line at Home Depot” or Walmart, you can stand in line to vote, as the president himself now faces the reality, that even in an outdoor setting, someone can still contract the virus.  So, no.  Standing in line for a prescription or perhaps some groceries is a necessity for me.  Standing in line to vote, when other options are available, are not.

My ballot has been mailed, and I plan to verify that it was received.

This is not voter fraud.  And that is the end of that.

The Toughest Part Of My Heart Surgery


A post from a fellow Hodgkin’s Lymphoma survivor triggered an emotional flashback for me recently.  A young parent themselves, one of their main concerns, is for their young children, and this will be the first time that this friend will be apart from their children for any amount of time.  Even more relatable, are two main factors, this fellow survivor is having open heart surgery, and their children are the same ages as my daughters were back in 2008.

My daughters were three and five years old, and had never been apart from me.  I went from just telling them, I had to go stay overnight somewhere for something special, but would see them the next day, to the horror 24 hours later of thinking I would never see them again.

A blockage had been discovered that was believed correctable with a simple stent being placed.  I would be up and going in just a week, an overnight stay in the hospital.  No big deal.  I was still coming out of the anesthesia that day, when the doctor was informing my family, my situation was more grave than thought, and instead I would need to have open heart surgery the next morning.  You can read the story “CABG – Not Just A Green Leafy Vegetable” for that whole situation.

But as I came out of the fog from the anesthesia, and began to understand the severity of what I was facing, there was even a more daunting concern for me.  If anything bad happened to me during this surgery, I never got to see or hold my daughters again, especially before the surgery.

I am a firm believer in not discussing things with children that are not age appropriate, and this was something that was not going to be discussed with them in great detail.  But that did not make my heartbreak any less.  Even if the surgery was successful, I would be in the hospital, expected to be about a week in length.  I had never been apart from them at all, even until the day before for the stent process.  I got to talk to them on the telephone that night before, and that was going to have to be good enough.  In less than eight hours, I would be taken down to the operating room.

Three days following the surgery, out of the ICU and in a private room, I still had some tubes and wires, but not nearly as many as when I first came out of the surgery.  At that point, it was decided to bring my daughters to visit me, a surprise visit, because they were all I could think about.  My older daughter was curious about all the equipment that I was hooked up to.  And the joke, er… concern, was that she would not do to me what she did to her mechanical horse Butterscotch, when we were not looking and she started pulling the horse’s wiring apart.  My younger daughter on the other hand, sat on the foot of my bed.  This was the first either of them had seen me in this type of condition, and clearly she was scared.

The picture above, was taken a couple days after we got home, no worse for the wear.  In fact, my younger daughter had resumed her playfulness with me, forgetting the fragile area of my chest, starting from across the room, running full tilt at me, unsuspecting, planting her head into my chest like a battering ram.  That was when that “heart” pillow came in handy besides my coughs and sneezes.

My daughters would witness another event, just as severe, and probably more scary, because they watched it happen in real time.  After just celebrating my older daughter’s birthday  that day, an ambulance crew was rolling me out of our house on a stretcher, again facing a dire situation, septic shock, due to a specific type of bacterial pneumonia I was unaware that I had.  One of the only memories I have of that early 4am event, was the look on my daughters faces as I was rolled by.

As I talked to my fellow survivor, one of the things I wanted to do, as I do with others in our situation, is to share our experiences, as to offer some sort of comfort to the stressful event soon to take place.  I encouraged her to focus on the surgery.

I had spoken with both of my daughters this evening, to gather their perspective on what happened those two time periods, the second time period they were five and seven years older.  Neither really remembers anything from my heart surgery.  And all either of them really remember of the second episode, was all the policemen and paramedics in the house.  It was never a thought to them that I would not come back home, though it was unusual for me not to be home.

For the second time, I had been apart from my daughters.  And this would happen again several times.  It never got easier.  Just as my fellow survivor feels I am sure, our children mean everything to us.  Fortunately they were at an age, where they really did not need to know or understand how serious everything was.  All that mattered to me, was that they knew I would come home.  And with every time something happened, this was how I handled it.  Each time, they believed I would come home.

Late in their teenage years now, they are learning more about my health history, and the origin, my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and the treatments used to save my life.  They can handle the details as I have given them in small amounts, and not in vivid detail.  As adults, they will learn the seriousness of the things I face, because as they will be my medical proxies, it will be important that they know all the details.

My daughters do not recall anything from my heart surgery, and have very few memories of the second event.  And I am glad for that.  They have witnessed enough with me in the hospital.  They know my situation is serious.

More importantly, they know that they are the reason that I keep fighting when faced with these challenges.  My divorce has caused quite a bit of separation, and while I do miss every moment I wish I could have with them, it pales in comparison to the emotional pain I felt back in 2008 when I thought I would never see them again.

Yet, here I am.  Another year closer to seeing them graduate, hopefully go to college, and perhaps start a family of their own.  Something back in 2008, I never thought I would see.

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