Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Cancer Does Not Discriminate


Back in 1989, as I walked through the hallway of the 9th floor at St. Luke’s Hospital for the first time as a cancer patient, the first lesson I learned was that cancer does not discriminate. Whereas early in my childhood, and mainly because of stereotypes that cancer created, it seemed that only certain people were diagnosed, and died from cancer.

Within minutes, I would see the widest of ranges in age of patients, from as young as two, to patients in their eighties. I saw men and women, people of all ethnicities. I would be willing to be also, that it did not matter if you were a good person or a bad person. Short and tall, rich and poor. It did not matter.

It was after those first steps on the cancer floor, that I had it in my mind I was going to be my cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. But it also became a moment that would change my thought process. After seeing the various patients, and in their various states, from that moment on I no longer gave myself the opportunity to feel sorry for myself, to allow myself to feel or acknoledge any pain or discomfort, physical or emotional. Someone was always going to have it worse than me. My situation was going to be temporary. This was thinking was going to be an issue for the rest of my life, and it is, often in a horrible way.

You see, no matter what the pain or discomfort, it does not take away from the reality, that it is real. Your pain, my discomfort, someone else’s ail, they are all real, and all deserve the proper attention. Yet while for the most part, I appreciate being able to be referred to as a long term cancer survivor. But at the same time, my heart mourns for Jennifer (see Jennifer’s Story on this blog page), and now my heart completely mourns for Michael. My thoughts begin to be dominated by a three year old neighbor battling a cancer that just a few years ago, took my stepsister’s life with her second battle having survived the first time for more than 30 years. I worry about my dad who just turned 70 as he worries about his cancer surviving.

Cancer does not discriminate. And even if it did, I do not know if that would help to make sense as to the “why” it has to happen. All I know is that it hurts. Every time I must say goodbye who has come into my life, it hurts. That is why I participate in fundraisers like the Relay For Life, Light The Night, breast cancer walks. Money cannot be the reason that we continue to lose someone. We need to find the cures, for all cancers, and then prevention.

Super Baby – Part 2


It appears that I am not going to have to wait another thirty years to see my football team get to the Super Bowl. Last night, my Seattle Seahawks defeated the division rivals the San Francisco 49ers to advance to the greatest show on earth. Of course, this similar scenario took place eight years ago.

During the 2005 football season, the Seahawks were catching everyone by surprise. Even more of a surprise was that they were advancing deep into the playoffs. At the same time, another major event in my life had been advancing. I was deep into the process of adopting my second daughter, Emmalie.

You probably have co-workers that operate football pools or bet on the games, and I was no different. I stayed away from them, because I am a much better fan than a gambler. However, January 2006 was different. I had a bravado that had me making statements like “Put your house on Seattle”. I actually told a co-worker, a very serious better with football, to bet his house. Of course, he looked at me like I was crazy. But I was very serious.

If you have followed me a long time, or even just begun, you can see I do not really have the greatest of luck (though it is beginning to turn around). In my past, anything good that happened to me, always ended up underminded, a cruel Murphy’s Law trick.

My paperwork from China for Emmalie was on its way from China, meaning that I would be travelling soon. Though the Super Bowl was three weeks away, I had to prepare myself, that if the Seahawks were to get to the Super Bowl in 2006, no, they were going to get to the Super Bowl in 2006, I was not going to be able to be here to watch the game. Although clearly, I was much more eager to meet my youngest daughter. Conflicted, but eager.

I told my co-worker to bet everything he had, including his house, that the Seahawks would beat the St. Louis Rams (another division rival) in the NFC Championship game to advance to the Super Bowl. And then I explained why. Of course he looked at me as if I were three gallons of crazy in a two gallon bucket. But I stood firm. Unfortunately for him, he did not share my confidence. I do not know how much he had wagered, but clearly he did not win his full potential.

As expected, the Seahawks won and advanced to the Super Bowl on February 6, 2008. As expected, I got my notice that I would be travelling to China to adopt the newest addition to my family, Emmalie on February 9th. But at least I would get to the my team for the first time in its history, play in the Super Bowl.

I received a telephone call just a week before February 4th. It was the adoption agency. “Mr. Edelman, I’m happy to tell you that your travel date has been moved up to February 6th.” That was great news! I would get to hold Emmalie sooner. Then it hit me, that was Super Bowl Sunday. Oh well, I would just have to rely on the DVR, because big sister Madison and I were too anxious to travel to China to bring Emmalie home.

There is one bad thing to the technology in 2006, memory usage. My DVR had been erased back to zero per cent used, so I had plenty of space to record the game. What I had not been counting on, was that my ex was taping all of her soap operas while we were gone. Of course I had to record the Super Bowl in high def which would take up more memory, but look great. BUt unfortunately, when the memory maxed out, the DVR would start to delete the oldest programs first. So, after two weeks of recording two soap operas every day, when we arrived home from China with Emmalie, though I already knew the results of the game from two weeks before, and being jet-lagged with the thirteen hour time difference, I still wanted to watch the game.

What game? Memory usage had pushed the oldest program off of the DVR, in other words, my Super Bowl. I never got to see it after all.

As we sat at the table last night, Emmalie and I had a conversation on how she and I were going to watch this year’s Super Bowl together. Even more strange, thanks to a childhood friend, even my oldest daughter is into football now. Although it is more because she heard of a football player with our last name (Julian Edelman of the Patriots).

It was an entertaining game, not pretty, but gutsy. But in two weeks, my Super Bowl baby, now eight, and my older daughter will sit down and watch the spectacle that I missed eight years ago. I have always enjoyed telling the story of the game that never was. That I was flying over the North Pole during the kickoff of my football team’s first Super Bowl appearance. But the eight years of memories being the father of two beautiful little girls… priceless.

When Medicine Is Not Working


I am sitting in one of my specialist’s offices waiting for my turn, which is being delayed by the constant interruption of drug reps and insurance reps. And since I wrote yesterday that I would talk about medicines in my last post, I felt it ironic that everything is coming together at this moment.

My entire life, I grew up rarely taking any kind of medicine. When I do get sick these days, my family doctor is always amused that my body can probably get by with simple Penicillin because I have not built my immunity against all other kinds of antibiotics. Of course, that all changed when I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. At that point, I had all kinds of toxins put into my body. This was supposed to be a good thing. These medicines were going to make me better. That is what medicines are supposed to do. But what happens when medicines stop working?

I continued my record of not taking medicines following the completion of my cancer treatments. I believed that enough garbage had been put into my system. I experienced all kinds of side effects in the short run, and long term. Back when I was exposed to all of those drugs, potential side effects were not really discussed openly, simply as “matter of fact.” Today, you cannot escape the television commercials for long awaited hopes for cures to crippling illnesses only to have to face the disclaimers at the end of the commercial that warns of all kinds of horrible and potentially fatal side effects. After hearing most of the possibilities, I cannot for the life of me wonder why anyone would take that risk.

But I do not want this post to be about side effects, but more about what happens when the medicines are no longer working, yet we continue to take them, just because the doctors tell us to. Just a few years prior to my open heart surgery, after more than ten years of my doctors bugging me, I finally relented to take a simple drug called Synthroid to help me with a thyroid that was pretty much destroyed courtesy of my radiation therapy. My alternative would be to face a good possibility of thyroid cancer otherwise. Soon, other drugs would follow as my cholesterol got out of control, and after that, my blood pressure. Following my heart surgery, more blood pressure medicines, and then pain became an issue as various muscles and bones began to show their effects from the radiation and chemotherapies. But, the bottom line, they worked. Next to the pain I was dealing with, the biggest issue I struggled with following the heart surgery was insomnia.

I began taking Ambien, low dose to get me to sleep. Not helping, I graduated to the higher dose, but that too would not keep me asleep more than two to three hours. Then it was up to the controlled release, a pill meant to keep you asleep for eight hours. Just like everything else, it was not doing the job. To make matters worse, I was developing memory issues, and the first half of my days were pretty much spent in a “fog”. You see, Ambien CR can last in your system much longer than the eight hours it is meant to work. From my understanding, it can last up to twelve hours.

I have said before, I believe most medicines “mask” the ailments, in other words, they just treat the symptoms, not cure the cause. I believe medicine is just too quick to say, “here, take this” whether it be for depression, sleep, or pain.

Getting back to my Ambien problem, and that is what it was, a problem, because I was taking a pill to help me sleep, and it was not working. The trick was trying to find out why. It was not long until I discovered that it was the enormous amount of daily stress I was under. And once I learned to recognize and deal with my stressors, I was able to get to sleep, and without the Ambien. But another neat thing happened soon after. With less stress, I got more sleep, my pain levels seemed to get better. My body was finally getting the rest it needed. Do not get me wrong, I still have chronic pain, but it is easier to deal with because of increased sleep, and I have stopped pushing my body harder than I felt that I needed to.

As of today, I am now off all sleep medicines, and all pain medicines. I still have an occasional bad day, but I have more good days that I can tolerate them. The only pills I have to take are for my thyroid, and my cholesterol and blood pressure. I have already asked my doctors to consider taking me off of those meds, but to no avail. It is felt with my health history, I have enough stacked against me, and any preventative help I can get I should take. For now, I am still complying.

But when the medicines no longer work, why would I continue to take them? Exposing myself to long term risks and side effects and possibly addiction? My ailments are real, just as many others, and those ailments should be dealt with, not covered up by drugs that simply cover up the pain and discomforts. What is causing the issue, and deal with that, not just the symptoms.

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