Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the tag “chemotherapy”

36 Years In Remission Of Cancer


Nowhere near my next age milestone of 40 years, but I realize being in remission for cancer for 36 years is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, advice that I often give to new patients and survivors, in dealing with remission and survivorship with all the anxieties and concerns of relapses, is to take it, yes I know this will be cliche, one day at a time. And quick math, my 36 years comes to 13,140 days, and that is a long time. When I say it gets easier as time goes on, I mean it. I remember every day of my cancer journey as if it just happened. While at the same time, these 36 years seem to have flown by.

In the 36 years of my remission, the diagnostics used to diagnose Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, no longer used. The methods used to stage Hodgkin’s, such as the laparotomy and the lymphangiogram, are no longer used. The high dose, “scattered field” approach of using radiation therapy to treat Hodgkin’s, is no longer used. And the treatment used before the current standard of chemotherapy, a hybrid, MOPP-ABV (now used ABV-D), is no longer used. I have been in remission long enough to witness all of this progress.

Over these 36 years, I have been discriminated against for employment before the Americans With Disabilities Act was passed making that practice illegal. I struggled to get health insurance due to my pre-existing condition of cancer until the Affordable Care Act was passed requiring that acceptance.

I got married twice, and also divorced twice. I am blessed with two wonderful daughters, now in their twenties, over half of my survivorship, one on the verge of graduating college. I bought a house with a fence, just not white picket, which allowed the dog I always wanted, a golden retriever, to be able to run and play safely in the yard. I had a nice career working in of all occupations, medical research, even handling one of the chemo drugs I had been given. I participated in two school board campaigns as a candidate, the only time I have ever run for a public office. I have travelled to all four corners of the country, and around the world.

I have written and published many stories and publications, and two years ago, published my first book, “Paul’s Heart – Life As A Dad And A 35 Year Cancer Survivor” available on Amazon. I have had one of my stories acted out professionally by actors. And I still have many works in the process.

Music was always a huge part of my cancer journey, but also my survivorship. Whether I was disc jockeying (which I did for 40 years), or performing live vocals, it was the one time I could forget that I had cancer, or at least not think about it. I picked up the guitar and keyboards again, the first time since high school. And of course, I have a huge catalogue of music of all genres to listen and disappear to.

These 36 years have not been easy, or without price. Because medicine never studied what could happen if cancer survivors lived long term, more than the five years we are always quoted, and because we do, for many cancers now, late side effects from the treatments appear in some, not all, cancer survivors. The problem was, there was no plan for this and if it happened. And for those who did develope these issues, decades ago, could not find the care to help with these odd issues, or even how to treat them. But with the coming of social media and the internet, it would be other survivors, and eventually doctors catching on, now finally getting the attention to survivors, that we all should be followed up after five years, not necessarily by the oncologist, but at least by a primary care physician, to watch for something to develop if it does. Again, this is not guaranteed to happen, but if it does, it is important to be dealt with sooner than later. My health history on this page is filled with details of issues I have faced.

And one of the coolest experiences, was getting to reunite with my oncology nurse, my counselor, and my radiation tech, decades later, so that they could see the great thing they did. I know that not all of their stories had happy endings, but for a brief moment, I gave them one memory to remember they saved a life.

And then finally, and as important as my survivorship experiences, are the hundreds of patients and survivors who have crossed paths with me, either through peer to peer counseling, social media, or even happen chance meetings. Each and every person I have met or talked to, is a part of my success of 36 years. There is one downside, I have had to say goodbye to some of my fellow survivors, many way too soon, their bodies no longer able to handle the lifetime of trauma from their experience. Everyone, living and those gone, are all so important to me in my survivorship.

I am hoping, and according to my counter on my main page, that I will have another four years in me, to reach the 40 year milestone of survivorship, after which I will reset my counter to 50 years. I am still hoping to experience so much more. At least that is my plan. I know there is so much more for me to experience.

I cannot donate blood or organs because of my treatment history. I will not discover any cures or treatments, and financially I am not able to give back. So this is why I do “Paul’s Heart.” This is my way of giving back, sharing my private experiences, one reader or follower at a time, hopefully giving the inspiration that I looked for decades ago, and could not find, forcing me to take my fight against cancer on my own. And I hope my story does make a difference.

Stick around, there is going to be a lot more to come.

Maddie And Emmy


The following is a short story that I wrote for another project earlier this year, a tribute to my daughters, my reason for being.

Maddie And Emmy

By Paul Edelman, Jr.

As a thirty-five-year survivor of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, some would think that my greatest achievement is simply surviving.  Living as a cancer survivor for thirty-five years is indeed a significant milestone, surpassing the well-known five-year mark told to cancer patients, when they can consider themselves “cured” of their cancer.  However, I consider my greatest achievements to be my two daughters, Madison and Emmalie, the most important parts of my survivorship.

At the age of twenty-two, one of my main concerns was how cancer would impact fatherhood. Once I had completed both radiation and chemotherapy treatments, it was discovered that chemotherapy left me unable to have biological children, which devastated me.  I had always dreamed of becoming a father and had to seek other ways to make that dream possible.  Fertility treatments via artificial insemination and in vitro were unsuccessful.  My only remaining hope was adoption to help me achieve my life’s greatest purpose, fatherhood.

Maddie and Emmy were born thirteen and fifteen years after the time when I first started my treatments.  But it was halfway through my recovery survivorship, they witnessed my first health issue caused by late side effects from radiation and chemotherapy administered eighteen years earlier.  In 2008, when they were five and three years old, I nearly died from a severe cardiac event, nicknamed for its lethality, a “widow maker” blockage to my heart.  I will never forget the bone-chilling words that my cardiologist said to me, “it was not a question of ‘if’ you were going to die, but ‘when.’”  I underwent an emergency double bypass to save my life.  Three days later, my daughters were brought into the hospital, shocked to see my condition, yet relieved that I was going to be okay.  I survived this first of many health complications caused by my treatments.  The one constant has been my daughters, my inspiration through each health crisis faced during my survivorship. 

 

Cancer survivors generally do not want their experience with cancer or any subsequent health issues to define them.  What holds significant importance are moments like hearing “I love you Dad” from their children and witnessing their growth over the years.  

Balancing my medical appointments and parent-teacher conferences was a challenge.  My daughters remember good times with me from birthdays, holidays, amusement parks, and vacations.  Despite all my health issues, I made sure I witnessed each of their high school graduations.  Today, they are both in college, which seemed unimaginable to me thirty-five years ago.

My daughters are aware of my successful battle against cancer and openly discuss it.  Because they were not there during my treatments, they did not witness all the medical challenges I faced at that time.  However, as adults, I make sure they are fully informed and involved about my ongoing health concerns.  Their support and presence provide me with motivation and purpose, inspiring me to look forward to each new day as a significant milestone and the many more events in their lives that I will get to witness.

This Year Feels Different


I really cannot explain it. I can normally feel what time of year it is as Thanksgiving approaches. It is a time that I normally dread. For whatever reason, this year feels different.

Keep in mind, the details that I am going to write, are as fresh and clear as when they occurred, back in November of 1988. I was twenty-two years old. I had a good job working for an appliance parts distributor. I was engaged to be married. Everything was going great. And then it wasn’t.

I was sitting at my desk, when I had an itch behind my left ear. As I scratched it, I realized that there was a lump at the base of my skull where I was scratching. I saw my family doctor who felt I had a cold, and this was just a swollen lymph node. After a course of medicine, the node went down in size, but then I developed pain which led me to another doctor. And it was this doctor who put me down a path that would change my life forever, that is, once he could convince me, that his hunch was correct. While today I consider myself a good advocate for my health, back in 1988 I was my own worst enemy with as much denial as I threw at not just that doctor, but five more denials with doctors that followed. Six doctors in total, all in agreement, made the recommendation that I get that lymph node, now swollen back to its size when it was discovered, just might be cancer. All of the doctors from general practitioners to sports medicine to an oncologist (I had no idea what that was when I had my appointment), wanted the nodule biopsied, which I finally agreed to.

It was the Monday before Thanksgiving when I had the biopsy done. Bloodwork and x-rays showed nothing to this point, and I felt the doctors were also wrong, and the biopsy would confirm that. And that was the beginning of my disdain for this holiday period around Thanksgiving and Christmas. The biopsy revealed that I had cancer, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Definitely nothing to be thankful for.

I go into more details in my book. Today I want to go in a different direction with this post than what I have in years past. Like I said, this year is different for me.

It has been thirty-seven years since I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I remember every conversation, procedure, treatment, side effect, and struggle. I remember every heartache of friends who “disappeared” rather than stay in touch with someone who had cancer. I remember the fights against discrimination and for health care. I remember being treated like I was not going to live even after I was told I was in remission. I remember every detail, vividly. This is what makes it so hard for me each year around this time, I have never forgotten what I have gone through. My story is not unique. So many have their own cancer story, many stories worse than I faced.

But this year is different, and with a purpose. Not considered a milestone or even a rounded number, for some reason, year thirty-seven, I have a different outlook (and I do not know why), and I have a message I want to share for anyone going through cancer, or regardless if in the early stages of remission, or in long term remission. Life is good after cancer.

One thing that a cancer patient is not told by their oncologist, and I really wish would be told, as mental health is just as important to beating cancer as the chemotherapy or radiation therapy, all a cancer patient wants to do is get through treatments, and then get back to their lives, picking up where they left off. The reality is, there is no going back to the life that was. And that is not necessarily a bad thing. Once finished with treatments, a cancer survivor begins their life anew, creating a “new” normal. In fact, I can say, I actually have begun several new normals throughout my survivorship. My point is, my life never returned to what it was and there are times that I miss that past life. But my life what it is now, is what it was meant to be, and as of right now, has been exactly what I wanted. And I definitely want more.

The fact that I have been blessed for four decades to witness the amazing progress in diagnostic and staging processes, and newer theraputics in the treatment of my cancer that everything that I went through, which is now obsolete or at best, rarely done anymore. I underwent brutal and invasive procedures such as the staging laparotomy and lymphangiogram and the bone marrow biopsy just for staging purposes. Oh how I wish we would have had the option of the PET scan back in 1988.

Or how about the option of the port for chemotherapy as opposed to being stabbed repeatedly trying to insert the IV needle into veins being destroyed from the toxic chemicals? I did not have that option. And today I am a nightmare for any tech trying to get blood from me as I have no working surface veins for blood draws or IV placement.

And then, there are the treatments. Even back in my day, the amount of radiation and the toxicity of the chemotherapy, it was believed could actually kill us. This was justified because without treatment, we would die anyway. But now medicine has figured out how to treat more, with less, less radiation and newer methods such as proton versus photon, and the elimination of many chemicals once respected as “the cure” but at the ultimate cost, to a standard regimen now used for decades, a lesser toxicity and providing similar results or better for remission.

So let’s talk about life after cancer, long after cancer since it rarely if ever gets any attention. I have accomplished so much in four decades. As I said, nothing like my life before cancer. I finally found a career. I bought my first house. I travelled all over the country and even travelled to the other side of the world to build my family with the adoption of my two daughters. I wrote a book about my life with and after cancer. I dabbled in local politics running for our local school board. And I had the best dog.

I never liked being referred to as a fighter or warrior. I never asked to be put into this position. I was literally thrown into it challenged to survive or die. I was not brave or courageous to go through all the procedures and treatments. I did what I needed to do just as I do today when I am faced with one of my late side effect issues. Each time something comes up, I have two choices, I can either sit back and let life just happen to me, no matter how bad, or I can make the decision to push back and fight. I am tired. I am exhausted and fatigued. I am in pain. But to quote the late great Tom Petty, “I won’t back down.” I make the decision every day, I want another day. I go to bed each night, not dwelling on the bad stuff, but preparing myself for what I need to do tomorrow. If I do not wake up, I will never know that things were not completed. But if I do wake up, then I have stuff to do.

If you want to know if someone can beat cancer, if you want to see what life can be like after cancer, much to the chagrin of many, I have been as public as I can be, sharing all aspects of my survivorship, hopefully providing the inspiration that it is intended to do. It is my hope, that whether you follow me on my blog here, or on TikTok, YouTube or wherever, if you have my book or have heard me give a speech on cancer survivorship, I hope that if anything really brings it on in, because as this survivorship number gets higher, it really is feeling different for me this year. And I am actually looking forward to this year’s holiday season without any reservation or fear.

Seriously, how could this journey have begun thirty-seven years ago? I don’t even think I look thirty-seven years old…do I?

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