Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Being In Charge Of Your Care


We trust our doctors to make the right decisions.  In the old days, doctors were able to take their time and offer empathy which is critical to a patient.  A lot more time could be spent with a patient because the patient relies on the doctor, trusts the doctor to hear, listen, and treat.    But over the years something has changed.  Insurance companies.  Attorneys.  Pharmaceutical reps.  A doctor’s days appear to be split between patient and business.  I am sure there is much more that goes on behind the scenes that I do  not know.

Which leaves us with no choice, we have to speak up for ourselves.  The problem is that most of us do not know how to do that.  We do not even know the first step.  The two main players on your treatment team – you and your doctor.  Without having a doctor’s degree, we need to have things explained to us on a level that we understand.  We need to know what is about to be done to us.  Why are we being asked to take prescription drugs and what are the side effects going to be?  What was going to be the prognosis?

An oncologist with a personality less charming than a Fleet enema kit, in spite of his skills and ability, will not be my doctor if he cannot handle my emotional needs or is not willing to talk to me about the things that he is planning on doing to me.  I fired, yes fired, three cardiologists following my open heart surgery because once it had been determined by my lead doctors at Memorial Sloan Kettering that the heart surgery was made necessary due to past cancer treatments, and those terminated cardiologists refused to acknowledge that fact which would be critical in follow up exams and studies.

I would never look back or second guess myself.  If I could not understand what the doctor was trying to tell me, then the good doctor was going to take the time to explain it to me. 

My father was faced with that same position.  Being diagnosed with cancer is one of the scariest things we can be told.  It comes even more as a shock, when we do not expect to be told we have cancer.  But as I tried to explain to my father, just as had been explained to me decades ago, these  types of doctors deal with a lot of death.  They are very confident in what they do, but they cannot afford to be emotionally attached to each and every one of their patients.  Do doctors like that exist?  I am sure that they do.

But I told my dad, that since he had time on his side, reach out for a second opinion.  I also told my dad, not to be surprised if he ended up with someone else, from the same practice, which is what happened for him.  And this doctor met my dad’s emotional needs.  That gave my father the opportunity to pursue his options with clear thought, instead of being consumed with the thoughts of his dislike for a doctor’s bedside manner.

If you do not have time to get a second opinion, your doctor will and should tell you.  But if you do have that option at your availability, then by all means, when you are having something major done to your body, get that second opinion.  And if it ends up different than the first opinion, get a third opinion.  But it has to be our mouths, our minds, our decisions.

“Daddy’s Never Going To Let Us Have A Puppy”


I am biased, my daughters are beautiful and cute.  But they are also manipulative.  I caught on to just how powerful both are many years ago, and it was not long after that they realized how to deal with me, being aware of their powers of the mind.  For others however, you will not be as lucky.  Even Wendy has only caught on just a couple of years ago.

It was during dinner, when Madison blurted out, “Daddy, can I have a chameleon?”  In spite of being outnumbered by four-legged animals in our house, my answer was still going to be “no”, because I am only willing to go as far as furry animals for pets.  As usual, Madison turns on her negotiating skills, all animals appear to be reptilian in nature.  However, once she realizes that my answer is always going to be “no”, she changes her performance level.  She runs through nearly all emotions, beginning with cute, then disappointment, then anger, then sorrow.

Of course I am firm, and I am relying on Wendy to hold her ground, which she is not known for.  Just like that, tears start to fall from Madison’s one eye.  Dammit, Madison is taking this to a whole new level.  I know that I am still good.  My attention is on Wendy hoping she will not crack.  “Hold on Wendy, you can get through this,” I say to myself.  And then an odd thing happens and there is no reason for it.  Madison starts laughing, but the tears are still coming out hard and furious.

This is no longer funny.  This goes beyond crocodile tears.  Madison can cry on demand.  The only time I was not prepared for Madison and tears, was in the event of a painful event, whether physical or emotional.  But as a manipulation?  But what Madison did not realize, is that Wendy would now adapt to this new strategy.

Both Madison and Emmalie have great hearts, endless compassion and empathy.  But Madison has a whole other level of the emotions when it comes to animals.  I cannot recall if I ever wrote about our Pittsburgh kitten, if not, I will have to put that one down, because it is the classic tale of how to make Dad crumble, and in front of family and friends.

There have probably been at least a half dozen attempts by all the females in our house to increase the animal population.  There are many reasons at this point for me to say no, from expenses to safety.  Safety being sensativity to increasing the risks of developing allergies.  The more concentrated and amount of fur, the better the chances of the immune system turning on us.  Then there is the fact that Pollo is a much older dog, and may not do well with the energy of a young puppy.  While some may think he would do well with the company, the truth is, that it would be an experiment.  And finally, I want to give all my attention to Pollo at this point.  I do not know how much longer I can expect him to go at thirteen years of age for a golden retriever.

And so, another attempt was made last night.  With an upcoming birthday party for my younger daughter, I spent my evening cleaning up my yard.  My family has already gotten me once before with the “surprise pet trick,” and I still never see it coming.  But I figured that since they were coming home from karate lessons, and Emmy’s birthday coming soon, that when my daughters arrived back at home and said, “Daddy, you need to come and see,” I clearly was not expecting anything other than something to do with the party or birthday.  So evidently I was not moving fast enough, Wendy came outside to greet me instead.

She flipped open her phone to reveal a puppy.  Not just any puppy, but she had taken the girls into the one local pet store that we both despise, because we know where they get their animals and the conditions that the animals are subjected to.  But with two young children tagging along, it makes the job of the pet store a lot easier to sell the animals.

So, here I was covered in grass clippings from weed wacking, and two normally beautiful little girls filled to the brim with excitement wanted me to get into the car, and take the ride with them, back to the pet store.  The dog would be ours if we chose.  The problem for my family, it needed to be unanimous, and the decision was not going to be.

This is what I gave up for my selfish decision.  My youngest was going to make it the best Father’s Day ever.  Madison hugged me like I was about to be shipped overseas.  And then out came the stories on just how cute the puppy was.  It was a great assault on my empathetic system.  But as I am known to do, I made the difficult situation for all of us.  I had to say “no.”

Of course, the ten year old mind, and the eight year old mind do not understand my decision.  Together they have oversimplified the conversation in that Daddy will never allow them to get a puppy again which was not fair because Pollo was not a puppy when we adopted them.  I did my best to assure them, this was not the case.  But simply it was going to t take time.  I knew they would not understand that.  But I had to try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Counting Grains Of Sand


I remember as a child, and I see it in my own children, the excitement that builds with an upcoming holiday, birthday or vacation.  If I recall, that is what motivated me to look at a calendar, so that I could do the actual figuring myself as the grown ups around me did not share my enthusiasm.  I miss those days, alot.

As an adult, we can share that same excitment.  It could be a wedding date.  There were two exciting dates that Wendy and I had been waiting for, the days that our daughters would be placed in our arms.

But what happens when the event that you are looking towards is not going due to a happy event or occasion.  There are no party favors or souvinirs.  Instead, fear replaces joy.  Emotions and temperment run short.

One such occasion for me could have been when I had my open heart surgery.  I was lucky.  I had less than fifteen hours to think about the major change that was going to occur in my life.  The majority of that time was spent still coming out of anesthesia and going through pre-surgical testing.  When all was said and done, I really only had approximately five or six hours to worry about what life would be like.  The fact is, many people face open heart surgery, and unless it is due to a heart attack, that surgery may take weeks to be performed.

My Father now finds himself in that very situation.  A couple of months ago, he went to his family doctor for a chronic cough.  We are talking several months.  His doctor having already tried various modes of treatment, made the decision to order a very expensive test, a CT scan, much to my father’s objections.  As it turned out, jumping right to that test may just mean the difference between life and death.  And I do not say it that way for dramatic effect.

A little over a month ago, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.  More importantly, and in his favor, Stage 1, meaning that the tumor has not spread to other organs or other parts of his body.  His cancer was caught early.  His best option for treatment is surgery.  Unfortunately, it will not just be the tumor that is being removed, but his entire lung.

He has another couple of weeks before the procedure.  He has gone through a lot more than one person ought to experience in one life.  This no doubt will be the biggest event in his life as it will result in a major lifestyle change for him, no more smoking.  He had been smoking for 57 years and even with a major heart attack, and the beginning stages of emphasema, he was not able to quit.  My dad has now officially quit.  He is quite lucky.  I remember the “blackened” lung that was always put on display back in elementary health class as to convince us smoking was bad.  My dad’s lung does not look like that, which is surprising for as long as he has been smoking.  His cancer is currently a small tumor.  And if watching the calendar was not bad enough, getting rid of the cancer must be done soon.

Post Navigation