Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

17 Feb 2022

A Moment Sinking In


I do a lot of writing. There are several destinations where my thoughts end up. Yesterday, I was approached by yet another organization that I have just become intimately connected to.

This photo, is a replica of an artificial heart valve, that is sitting in my hand. I should be more specific. This is a replica of an artificial heart valve, that has been placed inside of the aortic valve inside my heart. Now, while I think I can be described as having a large heart, I am confident that the actual valve that was placed inside of me, was much smaller. I do know this. On an x-ray, it is visible to the eye. Cooooooool!

The company that manufactured this valve, asked for a small essay on what life was like before the surgery for me, and life after. To be honest, I had never really given it much thought. This surgery was just yet another surgery to correct progressive damage caused by the treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma thirty two years ago. This was actually the 3rd surgery to my heart. The first, a double bypass of the LAD (left anterior descending artery), a main artery of the heart, back in 2008. The second, a stent placed in the RCA (right coronary artery), another major artery, in 2019. Unlike my bypass in 2008, the other two surgeries did not require open heart surgeries. With the risks that Hodgkin’s survivors have with open heart surgeries (bleeding to death one of them), having more than one, increases the risks. The amazing thing is, just ten years ago, these last two surgeries I underwent, were not even options for patients with my type of history.

As I was limited to a thousand words, I had to stay focused on what I needed to say about my aortic valve.

Well, I first found out that the aortic valve was going to be a problem, back in 2008 during my bypass surgery. In fact, the RCA was also discovered to be an issue at that time. Two other valves would also attract attention. Because of the lack of experience of my cardiologist, and understanding my treatment history, it was just assumed that all of the other issues would correct themselves with a perfectly functioning heart following the bypass.

Today, we now know that cumulative radiation and chemotherapy damage, does not just “go away.” It does get worse, just how much. But another factor played in to the decision to just do the bypass. Any of the surgeries that I have gone through are not permanent fixes. How long each one will last is not known, only speculated. My age in 2008, was 42. As the nurses reminded me as I was laying completely “exposed” on the operating table in all my glory, “he’s so young,” age has a lot to do with determining what can be done, when, and how many times. The decision back then was made, to sit back and watch. Over time, the valve did get worse. And some time over the last year, got much worse, very quickly.

I did not need the annual echocardiograms to tell me that. I could feel it. I could see it. My legs and ankles had begun to swell quite a bit, common for a heart that is not pumping like it should. And then there was the SOB, shortness of breath.

On a trip with my daughters to “Graffitti Highway” in Centralia, Pennsylvania, home to the large underground mine fire, we took a walk along the now closed former main road through the town, decorated with spray paint, which is how it got its name. At some point, my daughters realized I was having a hard time catching my breath, as I had to stop repeatedly to restore it.

Last Summer, that valve got much worse, to the point that I was no longer able really to go ten feet inside the home, without being out of breath. Tests would confirm, the time was now to replace that valve.

As I mentioned earlier, in a procedure that was not possible for myself and my fellow survivors, doctors were able to use a method called TAVR, to go through my leg, and insert that valve, the replica pictured in my hand, into my failed aortic valve.

When I awoke, the relief was instantaneous. As soon as I was able to sit up, a fete that prior to the surgery often left me struggling for air, I was now able to breathe easily. I cannot remember the last time I was able to breath this way. My recovery was going so well, I was actually discharged the next day. According to my research and fellow patients, I was anticipating at least a four to five day hospital stay. But not the next day!

From there, just as I had with my prior two surgeries, I followed my doctors advice, to get active, at least go for several walks. I completed my third round of cardiac rehab with flying colors. After struggling for thirteen years, because the job was not done completely back then, I felt a sense of normal (at least as far as my heart goes).

I now feel more than confident, that my long term goals of my cancer survivorship, have an even better chance now, to see my daughters grow into adulthood. Every year is another milestone. And it is definitely happening. A major milestone will be hit this June with my older daughter.

So, I finished my essay acknowledging how great life was again, now that I did not feel that my heart was going to fail me.

I do have two other valves in my heart being watched, but are nowhere near the level of action yet. And it is likely, my bypass, stent, and this new valve, will all have to be dealt with again, quite possibly as some sort of cataclysmic event several years from now. And then there are the other issues of the systems in my body, dealing with late effects from my lungs, my spine, my esophagus, my thyroid, and more, are now making themselves known.

My heart has always been the one getting the most attention, and giving me the most to think about. Because if anything were to happen to the heart, that would be the end of the story. Now, I get to live out more chapters. And this book is only getting better.

Posted in Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart | Leave a comment
15 Feb 2022

When Did You Learn About Your Parents?


Though I see this daughter all of the time, fortunately, the “look” is not something frequently seen. She is normally a very happy young lady, with a smile and a giggle that melts my heart. This particular look has one more level, that of which is referred to as the “stink eye.” For those unprepared, she can make you feel quite uncomfortable. For those who know her well enough like I do, it is all show.

I have been on the receiving end of this look occasionally, I think I can count less than necessary of my ten fingers. But one particular incident took me off guard.

It was a Valentine’s Day and I had just come home from work. I needed to get changed for dinner as we were all going out. My cell phone rang. I was currently in a cycle of receiving phone calls for my first ex-wife (wife in this story is ex-wife #2). They were bill collectors trying to reach her, and by using “guilt by association” data bases (I had not been married to her over a decade by this time), when they cannot get ahold of the person they are trying to reach, they will contact everyone in their data base.

Typically, I ignore these calls. Once you answer them, they will keep calling, even when you explain that you have not seen or talked to them in over ten years. But I was in a good mood. And that meant, I was up for a little fun.

I let the caller go through their talking points, asking for my 1st ex-wife. And then I unloaded on them.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I have not seen her, heard from her, in over 10 years! What else do I have to do to get through to you people, I have no way to reach her?

The caller interrupted, “I am sorry for the inconvenience…”

Then I interrupted him. “You’re sorry! It’s freaking Valentine’s Day. I am planning to take my wife (now ex-wife) out to a romantic dinner, and she hears you asking for my ex wife? You have ruined this day for both of us. I hope you are satisfied.” And then I hung up.

As this call was occurring, I was pacing the floor, so that my voice sounded as if I was excited and upset. I saw my ex standing in front of me, and she had an odd look on her face, which did not appear related to the call. After I disconnected the call, I asked her, “what?” She nodded at me to turn around.

At just about waste height, I had not looked lower from eye level, to not realize my older daughter had been standing there.

My daughter had a stern look on her face, like the picture above, pointed a finger at me, and said, “you had another wife?”

Throughout my parenthood, I had always played out scenarios of situations where my daughters might just ask me questions about my youth, to perhaps help gauge a decision about to be made. It did not matter if it was about dating, smoking pot, underage drinking, or whatever else. They were going to get honesty from me, at an age appropriate level.

But there was one part of my life that I had not given any thought to, because it really had no bearing on my daughters. Their mother and I are the only parents that they know. So I did not feel it was imperative at their young age to know that I had been married previously. Sure, it might come up for discussion perhaps in their adulthood. However, I had no ties to my first ex-wife, especially children.

I stuck my own foot in my mouth though. The topic, it was not a secret, was out. I had a short conversation, lasting five minutes or less, my prior marriage, again, keeping it at age appropriate level. And then, my daughter moved on.

My daughters are still teenagers, one of adult age now, and my resolve is still the same, to be open and transparent with my daughters about my past. Right now, my focus is on school, and after graduation, and making sure my daughters have the right ideals and morals, when it comes to dating. Dating is one concern that I do have as a father, because I remember how I was as a teenager. I am fortunate that my daughters had a great role model as their baby sitter, because they remember her. And when I tell them how focused a student she was, that when she was not at school, she concentrated on her work, which included babysitting, and of course her family. Dating and boyfriends came after those.

I do not talk to my daughters about my divorce from their mother, except when something is mis-stated and needs to be corrected. I also do not want them to think I am sour against marriage though I have no interest in that again. As they approach their adulthood, I just feel it is important to be one of the two most important people in their lives to set an example for them, and to support and encourage them.

My health has been challenging since my late effects from my cancer treatments caught up with me. I had no guarantee that I would be here to see this day, yet, here I am. That means I am going to have more conversations with them, including about my past. Hopefully, and there is no rush, this will include parental advice.

Posted in Adoption, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Recreation | Leave a comment
13 Feb 2022

A Super Dad Moment


I wrote recently about how this time of year, “Super Bowl Sunday” has special meaning to me. It would mean more to me this year if my Seattle Seahawks were playing, but, oh well. They are not.

As for the game itself, unless your team was playing in the Super Bowl, you do not remember who wins or loses most likely. And I am sure that will be the case today. Even the much anticipated television commercials fade away into memory soon after the final tick of the game clock. The half-time show will create debate, just as every year on who should have played instead, or how underestimated the show was going to be.

Like I mentioned previously. I was flying to China while the Super Bowl was being played. No, I cannot forget because my team was playing, the Seattle Seahawks versus the Pittsburgh Steelers. Of course I want to clarify it was more of the Seahawks versus superstar running back Jerome Bettis (who was playing in his final game) and the referees (more on that in just a moment).

Just as the picture shows, I put my older daughter in one of her several Seahawk outfits, this one a cheerleader. I had my jersey and a hat on. The Seahawks were represented. The rest of the flight over to China, a sea of black and yellow, Steelers colors. I had already checked with the airlines in advance, they would not be carrying the game on their television signal. We would all get off the plane, not knowing who won the Super Bowl.

The plane landed, pulled up to the gate. The jet way was attached to the plane, and the door was opened for us to exit. As my daughter and I exited the plane, the pilot said to me, “sorry about your Seahawks. Maybe next year.” I was stunned. How would the pilot know what was going on? He should have been occupied with something more important. Still, focused on my newest family member about to be placed in my arms, I was a bit distracted, as I now heard the chatter in the sea of black and yellow, how “great” it was for Jerome Bettis to finally win a Super Bowl.

My Seahawks had lost. Oh well. I had bigger and more important things to deal with at the moment, so, maybe it was a good thing they lost. I did not miss anything.

After I checked into the hotel, it was time to make a very brief phone call back to the United States to let our families know that we had landed. I do not remember the rates for calling internationally. Before leaving, just as I did before, I bought a calling card to use. I believe the rate may have been something close to $5 per minute. The calls home would be a simple and rapid “welandedinHongKongallisgoodwegetomeetemmaliesoon.” I learned that from a famous Geico commercial and making collect calls (kids, that’s when we had to call from a payphone, and did not have money, and the person getting the call had to accept that they would pay for it instead. What’s a payphone you ask? Aw forget it.)

The first two calls went exactly to plan. But when it came to calling my Dad, it was a different story.

Me: He Dad. We’re in Hong Kong. We fly early in the morning and meet Emmalie soon after we land in the provincial capital city.

Dad: Good. I’m glad. You know, your Seahawks, in particular that guy, Stephens, he kept dropping balls. They really played bad. Be glad you didn’t get to see the game.

Honestly, my father confused me with what he was saying. You see, I can make the joke, I would not even know if my Dad knew what color or shape a football was, let alone, explain strategies and statistics. Yet, he was doing it. Far from the sport he really enjoyed, NASCAR, my Dad began to rattle off plays and stats like he was an announcer. Then it hit me. He was repeating the announcers. But, I give my Dad credit. He had my back when it came to watching possibly his only Super Bowl, because I could not.

What actually happened with the game, has never mattered to me, though I do acknowledge, I do remember who the Seahawks lost to, the Steelers, and yes, the referees did blow some calls which did turn momentum of the game.

But forever, I will have this Super Cool memory of my Father, who I miss so much, almost eight years later. I wish I could see his expression at how his granddaughters have grown and who they are becoming. I know he would be just as proud as I am of them.

I would get to see the Seahawks in another Super Bowl, versus Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos, and won their first Super Bowl. See how easy it is to remember? Sadly, and frustratingly, though the Seahawks would return to the Super Bowl the next year, their hopes of repeat, were given away to the stinkin’ Patriots on a questionable play call.

But the most memorable Super Bowl moment that I will always have, was that phone call with my Dad.

Posted in Adoption, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Recreation | Leave a comment

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