Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the tag “cancer”

Too Late For A Resolution


For the most part, I am about teaching my daughters things about life, not necessarily warning them. However, I have always been about being an open door, if they want to ask me anything, I will give them the truth. For ten years, my daughters have never seen me smoke a cigarette (or anything), nor their mother. In fact, intentionally, we shielded them not just from the influences of smoking, but also the second hand smoke. So neither of my daughters really have any concept of what smoking is, or how bad it is for you.

On a recent trip with my daughters, a radio ad came on for “electronic cigarettes”. For smokers, this is supposed to be the next best thing since sliced bread because for years smokers have had to be inconvenienced by smoking restrictions, whether at work or at restaurants, with the battle cry always being the same, the dangers of second hand smoke. I am not going to get off on a rant here about e-cigarettes because I know nothing about them other than I do still see some sort of release from the person inhaling them, which clearly means something is going into the person inhaling. And of course, whatever is being inhaled has to solve the addiction that caused the person to choose the e-cigarette. Look, some smokers chose chewing tobacco so as not to have to hear complaints about smoking. But guess what, the people still got the toxins, and in many cases, simply traded one form of cancer for another. These new cigarettes are just that, new. They are too new to know the long term effects.

Anyway, the gist of the radio commercial was to glorify and make it acceptable to still be a smoker.

As my oldest listened to this commercial, she is aware of two people in my life that smoke, my mother and my father. All too familiar to my daughters, is my father’s situation. A smoker of over 50 years, this past year he lost half of his lung. He had been told to expect to lose the entire lung. The tumor that had been located was in such a bad position, this looked like the only possible solution for a cure for my father. However, once inside, the doctors discovered that my father had emphysema so bad in both lungs, he would never have survived the entire lung being removed. Following the surgery, he went through chemo, and currently is undergoing radiation treatments.

So my oldest asked me why, if smoking is so bad for you, why do it? And I told her to ask my father. And I would bet any amount of money that given what my father has had to endure this year, he would give anything to have turned back time, and never lit that first cigarette, no matter how cool it made him look. He tried several times to quit using various methods and failed every time. Even a major heart attack was not enough to convince him. But my father knows just how serious a diagnosis of lung cancer is.

And though my parents are divorced, my mother also understands this, an will be trying to quit, yet again. I do not bug either of my parents about this as they are grown adults. And I do know that the last thing a smoker wants to hear as they attempt to quit, is frequent congratulations on how long it has been since they quit. But she has made January 1st her next attempt to quit smoking.

I am glad that my daughters seem to have a strong concept of just how bad smoking is for a person. In time, very soon I would guess, they will learn in their health class just exactly how bad it is. Then it will be about surviving peer pressure to start smoking. But ask any cancer patient, if there is anything that they could have done, not eaten, not inhaled, any decision that could have been different to have not resulted in a diagnosis of cancer, we would take that opportunity.

Please understand, this post is not about judgment at all. If you are reading this, you are an educated person and if you have chosen to be a smoker, you know the risks. You do not need me, or anyone else reminding you. And if you have quit, I am happy for you.

But there is one person that I personally know who has taken up smoking recently, and that is unfortunate. And ask anyone who has had to deal with cancer themselves, they will tell you how sad they are at the thought. It is not only going to hurt this person, but those around this person as well. Because for all the people who choose not to smoke, we do it because we understand the risks, and they are not worth it.

For my father, it is too late for a resolution to quit smoking. For my mother, I am hoping not. But for this other person, my wish is that you would rethink this decision. It is going to hurt a lot of other people, emotionally and perhaps physically.

A Carnival Of Cancers


I would like to dedicate this story to two young people that I talk to about their cancers.  One has just celebrated one year of remission, the other, is approximately a month away from completing his journey.  Both have faced their Hodgkin’s.  One has beaten it, the other is almost there.  I am happy for both of you.  Your experiences during your fight with Hodgkin’s that you have shared with me, are truly an inspiration.  The support that you had from your families, should serve as the example of the support that all patients need to get through their fight with cancer. 

Whether visiting the boardwalks of the shorelines, or local carnivals, it is not uncommon to hear some barker call out to passer-byes to step right up, and win a prize.  While the games are fairly easy to win, the prizes are awarded by some ladder scale from small to largest, and when played long enough to get the larger prizes, come with quite a price.

But imagine if the dialogue went something like this:

“Step right up, come on over, give it a shot, it’s real easy.  Everybody gets it.  Is it going to be small or large?  How lucky you feeling?  And we have a winner!  It’s cancer, but not just any cancer.  Hodgkin’s Lymphoma folks.  He’s got Hodgkin’s Lymphoma!  Who’s next to test their luck?”

Of course this is a ridiculous premise, but I challenge you to find one person, who did not hear these words from an oncologist, “You are really lucky.  If you are going to get a cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is the cancer to have.”  I will let the doctor off the hook in a second, but for now, imagine, you have just been told you are lucky and that you have cancer.  What would your reaction be?  You have a deadly disease, remission or cure is not certain, but for you, the news is good.

For myself, I was in an office of an oncologist / hematologist.  I had no idea what that even meant.  All of the prior doctors that I had seen had been looking for some sort of cold, or perhaps an injury when one of them decided to send me to this place.  I was not even placed in an exam room, but rather the office of the doctor.  He walked in to the office, around his desk, sat in his chair, and then rattled off an obviously often rehearsed speech.  I have no idea how, but with just the first two words from his mouth, “Hodgkin’s Lymphoma…”, it triggered an automatic response of something I should never have known what it meant.  By the time he finished that first sentence, ending in “rare form of cancer.”, I had already guessed that is what he was already talking about.  Then I heard the word from him, “cancer.”  I knew I was in the wrong place, the wrong patient, the wrong diagnosis.  But he kept on talking.

“Hodgkin’s is rare, but it is also highly curable, at 85%, if you are going to get a cancer, Hodgkin’s is the cancer you want to get.”  I “want to get?!?!”  Seriously?  I wanted to get cancer, so I pressed my luck and came up with Hodgkin’s?  People die from cancer, and he is telling me that I am lucky?  Pardon me, but are fucking kidding me?!?!  I did not want cancer!  Let me be clear, I did not want it.  I did not wake up that morning, and make a choice between buying a lottery ticket or getting Hodgkin’s.  Clearly, winning the lottery, that would have required luck.  Cancer kills.  How is that lucky.

Now as promised, I have to cut the doctor some slack, but hopefully those who are reading this, and have been in this situation, not just with cancer, but any serious crisis, print this, and give this to the doctor to read.  Like I said, I am not going to hammer the doctor.  Let’s face it, next to a cardiologist, the oncologist has to deal with one of the most grim disciplines of medicine.  And if they have been practicing long enough, the tended to plenty of patients, whose prognosis were definitely more grim than today.  So there may be an oncologist who may not have the best or happiest bedside manner.  But hopefully we can get it across, by passing this on, there is no such thing as luck with developing a certain cancer, or how advanced a cancer is compared to another.

I would rather have had the doctor say, “I am sorry to tell you, that you have cancer.  Here are the statistics, and here are the modes of treatments used to treat it.  I am going to do everything I can to put your cancer into remission.”  It is that simple.

I was not lucky.  I was diagnosed with cancer.  I was treated with chemicals and radiation that were toxic and difficult to go through.  I was left with some permanent after effects from those treatments, some serious, some not so much.  The last thing I consider myself today is lucky.  But what did happen?  I tolerated the treatments.  My body endured.  My physiology was able to handle the all-out assault of the chemotherapy and radiation therapy.  This was not luck either.  My body did what it had to.  The treatments did what they had to.

Please, do not get me wrong.  It is no minor accomplishment that I am here twenty three years later.  I often wonder how the other three kids who were treated with me turned out.  Progress in the diagnostic techniques and treatments of not just Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, but many cancers has advanced so far in the last two decades, and from the times before I was treated.  Survival rates for Hodgkin’s has increased from 85% to 95%.  And there are many cancers that have achieved 100% remission or cure.  In spite of the positive direction that cancer research has taken in two decades, I know better than to tell the many newly diagnosed patients or those currently in treatment that they are “lucky that they did not have to go through what I did, or those before me.”  Patients today are still being diagnosed with a deadly disease, high cure rate or not.  We are not lucky.  We simply hope that we have made the right decisions in the doctor, the treatments, and have the right support team with us.  this is not luck.  We simply count on everything to go as the books say to do.

Bravery


Bravery is defined in Merriam-Webster as courage.

I decided to look this up today.  A co-worker was having a conversation with me, coming to find out everything that I had been going through in just the last several weeks.  And his comment to me was, “You’re really brave.”  And I looked at him like I was almost hoping for a hint of sarcasm or even some foolery.  But for once, he meant it.  And then he repeated it, “You are brave.”

The first time I heard it, I was uneasy.  I was hoping the conversation would end, but when he said it the second time, I knew that I had to deal with it.

In my life, I am hard pressed to find even one instance in my life where I could be defined as brave.  I have never fought in any armed service.  I have never broke up an attempted bank robbery.

But when people find out that I have beaten cancer, had open heart surgery, two cases of pneumonia (one with sepsis and the other double pneumonia), kidney stones, all kinds of late issues from my treatments, I get, “You are brave.”

When I think of “bravery”, I think of men and women who run into a burning building, police officers who put themselves in harm’s way every day, an airline pilot flying a human missile loaded with hundreds of lives, a teacher shielding her students from a lunatic’s bullets.

No, I am not brave at all.  I simply did what I had to do.  I have two beautiful daughters who I know love me so much, it would devastate them to lose me.  I have no choice but endure if my body and mind are capable of doing so.  In the second half of my life, I have met so many people who have faced relapses of their cancer, multiple cancers, those who struggle with their survivorship from the treatments that saved their lives, and sadly, those who lost their battles.

I have always said that I would not go through anymore treatments if my Hodgkin’s Disease came back, that is, until my daughters came along.  One of my dearest friends has faced nearly 50 surgeries all having to do with her surviving her cancer treatments, this along with a battle with a secondary cancer.  With so many close calls, not just near death, or in some cases, flat lines, she continues to trudge on to this day, not only a proud mother, but the happiest grandmother, something that she never thought she would ever see.

I do not know how she would react if I told her that she was brave.  I know on occasions when I have talked with her on the telephone, I have told her that I was speechless for words to how I felt with her continued struggles and survival.  It would be easy for her to give up I think.  She has been through so much.  But the fact is, she has not given up.  It is with her example that I can never make that decision either.

And so, I am watched periodically, whether month to month, quarterly, or annually.  There are things that have been identified and can be dealt with.  I go to my appointments not afraid, but confident in my caregivers that things will be dealt with sooner than later.  That is not bravery, that is trust.  As for the all-of-a-sudden stuff like the pneumonias, the cardiac issue, some kidney activity… a little luck does not hurt either.

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