Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

All Things Being Equal…


Today is a day that makes it official for me as a Dad, it is going to be quite a while before I am likely to spend time with both of my daughters together at the same time. There are good reasons for it as well. In fact, I actually played a role in this plan.

As my daughters have grown, I had always done my best to treat them equally. This does not mean that they are not their own individual beings. Quite the contrary, they are different in so many ways from their personalities, their interests, and their motivations.

I am in unchartered territory right now, actually I have been my daughters entire lives. All I can hope is that I have done all that I can, and that it was good enough. From the time my oldest daughter was placed in my arms, I learned the role of a Father, “on the job.” I did my best to balance their childhood between playtime, helping with homework, teaching responsibility, and to dream. Being an adult child of divorce, it was key to me, that neither of my daughters experience the loss, witness any conflict, or develop any unnatural feelings toward either parent, something I still struggle with today.

But the one thing that I know my daughters will always know, that I love them both equally. I do not favor one over the other. Together, they complete my world. Over the last year, as my older daughter returned home from her visit with me, I would send her off in her college colors. Now, I have two college colors to wear, and when my younger daughter returns home during the Summer, I will wear her colors as well. Here is the thing.

Do you remember this past year’s Super Bowl? Who did not truly appreciate “Mama Kelce” and her fashion choices, even going as far as stitching two football jerseys together, each representing the team each of her two sons were playing against each other in this year’s Super Bowl. She wore shoes, ear rings, everything representing 1/2 of each team her sons played for.

Though my daughters will be attending college in the same state, I do not believe that there is any sports competitions making them rivals. But that does not change the fact, that I now have two “colors” to wear (coincidentally neither the colors I have worn previously). How do I wear one shirt with both daughters without slighting the other, even if I switch shirts the next day, giving the other daughter her turn at representation? I am certainly not going to stitch the two shirts together.

I have made the decision, I will wear the colors of either, under two conditions. The first, when it is a visit with just one of my daughters. That is easy. The other situation? When I have both daughters together, neither colors will be worn, unless, one leaves earlier than the other, and I will then send off that daughter, wearing her colors, and then wear the colors of the daughter remaining.

Whether it has been presents bought for birthdays and holidays, new clothing for school, or even “hey Dad, can I have $5?”, I have never kept any kind of “score” to keep track and make sure things were “even.” Things were done equally, I just know it.

And whether it be material things, or emotions of pride and love, I give everything to both my daughters equally. They are both heading in different directions, and will each make their own impact on the world as individuals. But as my daughters, they are equals.

One Proud Moment Of Many


My daughter returned to her Summer job yesterday, for her third season. I am using a picture from her youth, as I try to respect her wishes as an adult and being allowed to use pictures of her older. The seasonal position has been perfect for her while she visits with me during the Summer months. And though she saw many of the same co-workers she has seen each year, there was something new she was faced with, for the first time. One of those regular co-workers she has known since she has started, was being treated for cancer. My daughter was only aware of this fact, because her co-worker felt the need to explain to my daughter, her cancer condition is why she was wearing a mask, protecting herself from any potential infection from Covid as her body being more susceptible from treatments.

She really did not need to explain anything to my daughter about why she was wearing a mask. Me being immuno-compromised, and having lost my sister to Covid, my daughter is very well aware that some of us will likely wear masks in certain situations for the rest of our lives. My daughter is not embarrassed by me wearing a mask, nor is she triggered by anyone else wearing one. But the co-worker offering a reason, cancer, brought out in my daughter, a quality that is 100%, who I raised.

My daughter was not born until sixteen years after my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Though throughout her childhood, she is aware that I dealt with cancer. She just is not aware of how difficult it was for me, and all of the experiences that came with it. All she knew, and proclaimed whenever she had the chance, her “Dad was a cancer survivor.” It was a simple as that. But even as I dealt with all the major late side effects from my treatments, all my daughters know, and likely expect, I have gotten through every one of those events.

This was a different situation for her. To my knowledge, she has never had to deal with a classmate with cancer, maybe perhaps a parent of one of her classmates. This co-worker, an adult, is someone she has known for two seasons now. Clearly, my daughter is concerned for her, someone she knows personally, likely the first time (besides her grandfather which she does not remember him dealing with cancer), it is happening right now. Her co-worker is in the middle of treatments. For my daughter, there is an awkwardness, afraid of what to say.

I was trained as a cancer counselor decades ago. But the comfort I wanted to give to my daughter had nothing to do counseling, but rather assurance, as a former co-worker myself, and what it could mean to her co-worker, to know that my daughter cared.

I explained one of my biggest frustrations, working while I was going through my treatments, and actually many of my later health crisis, was petty and jealous behaviors exhibited by many of my co-workers. What? How could anyone be jealous of someone having cancer? No, it is not the actual disease that fellow workers are jealous of, but rather the perceived favors and privileges they assume are given to the employee, and that is simply just not fair. I recall defending myself constantly that no such favoritism was occurring, to no avail. Those co-workers just “knew” something had to be going on.

The fact was, the only work I missed, was a half hour in the morning at the beginning of the work day, to get my radiation treatment for thirty days, and the last two hours of two Fridays per month, to get my chemotherapy, and I was right into work after. I completed my work tasks without missing a beat. So, I am not sure where people thought I was getting special treatment from management. But their behavior took a toll on me, because I thought of many of these people as my friends. I thought they cared. Clearly they did not.

And that is the conversation I had with my daughter tonight, about this particular part of my cancer experience, and what it could mean to her co-worker, to be treated with respect, and more importantly, empathy and understanding. My daughter definitely knows dealing with cancer is difficult, and now she knows there may be times when her co-worker is not feeling well, or might need help with something. I have stressed to my daughter, that she does not need to have conversations with her fellow worker about the cancer, unless she is approached. However, if she sees her co-worker struggling or having a bad day, I told her at that point, she should offer assistance with the task or assignment. But never, NEVER, belittle, disrespect, or mock her co-worker and her situation. I explained to my daughter, it would likely mean the world to her co-worker, that she was working with someone who really cared.

It is the final gesture, that is not only expected of either of my daughters, but makes me proud nonetheless, because her actions are just natural to her. It is who she is, who she was raised to be. My daughter wanted me to get a mask for her to wear for herself, as she and her co-worker, work in a confined area. And though my daughter is fully boosted, as recent as last week, she understands the value and importance of protecting her co-worker from not only Covid, but any potential delay in her treatment course. Neither her co-worker or her supervisor have asked my daughter to do this. It is just something my daughter feels is the right thing to do, and ultimately, it does her no harm, and it might just help to keep her fellow employee safe.

The final comment I made to my daughter, with my older daughter sitting at the kitchen table, this, is one of those moments I have always talked about, building character and reputation. This will not only go on remembered by her co-worker, her supervisor, but will continue to fortify the heart and goodwill of someone truly special. And I am not just saying that because I am her Dad.

The “Speed Bump”


What does a speed bump do? It slows you down, if you are driving a car that is. I have referred to a couple of my former co-workers as “speed bumps” for similar reasons, because they slowed me down. But another thing that a speed bump does, if you hit it too fast, or if the hump is too steep, it gets your attention in a big way. I just flew right over a “figurative” speed bump. And just like speed bumps I see as I am driving, I knew this one was there as well. And just like other speed bumps, I often do not pay attention to them, and then wish I had done otherwise.

This was the second of two major milestones for me to have reached as a thirty three year cancer survivor of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, my younger daughter graduating high school. But there was a speed bump approaching, and I had totally forgotten about it. Just like my car bottoming out of an actual physical speed bump, I was going to hit the “figurative” speed bump soon that I referenced earlier. And just like scraping the undercarriage of the car, this speed bump is leaving some marks.

As I did last year when my older daughter graduated, I spend Father’s Day week with my daughters. In full disclosure, this week is not just about having fun, making memories, taking pictures, we also get a lot done that needs to be taken care of until the next time that I see them both again. This year, both of my daughters will be in college, and then… well, they are off on their own lives.

If there is one thing missing from my younger life, it is pictures. I have very few photos of me as a child, and even fewer with either of my parents. Though I do have some memories of my youth, photos would definitely help to jog those memories. I know that, as my daughters often do not recall things we did together in the past. I have made sure they have photos to show them what they have done. A lot of photos.

This week has been no different, other than probably a lot less photos than ten years ago, attributed to “diva” behavior of two late teen/young adults. But I am getting my share of photos and memories. With the graduation photo pictured above, I was pumped for what I had in store for my daughters this week.

And then, an innocent photo, the type taken many times before, grabs my attention, like a speed bump, wrecking my inner core.

For the most part, most people find it hard to believe that I am a thirty year survivor of cancer, or that I have the number of major health issues that I do. I have even had one of my doctors tell me at an office visit, “you look great!”, especially when they know inside, my body is a train wreck.

But this photo shows the obvious, besides the fact, that it is obvious which shirts I must wear to hide what I have been through. This pullover shirt, exposes the major muscle loss that I have developed over the years, from my neck muscles, shoulder muscles, and chest muscles. While I currently consider myself in fairly good shape (all things considered) and my strength well enough, that same conditioning shows what I have lost.

A recent photo shows the results of damage to my neck from high dose radiation. Muscle loss from the back of the neck results in remaining muscles in the front of my neck, pulling my head forward, and eventually drooping down. Before I learned what was happening, I constantly heard co-workers accusing me of being depressed because I was always looking down at the ground when I walked. Turns out, I could not help it. Physical therapy and various neck braces can help to a certain point, but not reverse the damage that is cumulative. The degradation and muscle loss in the neck of many Hodgkin’s survivors often gets nicknamed “pencil neck.” All too often, you can pick us out just by that observation alone.

Honestly, I really don’t pay attention to it. I very rarely walk around without my shirt on, because of the horrific scars on my chest and abdomen which only took one incident to garner too much attention. I have trained myself not to really pay attention to mirrors because I know that in spite of the good shape I believe myself to be in, a side or rear view will show a “chicken wing” like appearance of my shoulders as opposed to a nice, rounded shoulder.

Normally, I do not let this appearance stuff get to me. I know that my more serious issues belong to my heart, my lungs, and many other interior issues. But as I looked at the current photo, I reminded myself, I should have paid more attention to the “speed bump.” The result, I still took a lot of photos, but now I was no longer in them, and the few that did now include me, I examined and focused on my chest and neck area to see if I hid my physical late effects well enough. Seriously, the stuff going on inside of me is supposed to be the difficult things to get through.

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