Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the tag “radiation”

31 Jan 2026

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.

Posted in Adoption, Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart and tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
02 Sep 2014

Lymphoma – Technology and Treatments – So Much Better, But Not Good Enough


Treating lymphoma has always been about timing.  I cannot talk about treating non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma as I did not have it, nor do I know anyone who has battled it.  But as far as Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is concerned.  I was diagnosed six months before my first wedding (that is another post) and as I begged my oncologist (cancer doctor) that I wanted to hold off on any treatments until after my wedding, he was having no parts of it.  For a male patient, there really is no excuse for delaying treatment ever.  However, for a female who happens to be pregnant, this is a whole other issue.  For men, yes, sterility is an issue and for women as well, but when a woman is already pregnant, a hard decision has to be made whether to allow doctors to use toxic drugs to save her life, but also might adversely affect her baby’s life.  There is no guarantee.  I will talk about this type of decision in another post.

It has been over twenty five years since I underwent my first biopsy to diagnose my lymphoma.  And I am amazed to hear, as well as quite glad, that newer patients have not had to be subjected to the barbaric methods that I was diagnosed with.  But going back even forty and fifty and sixty years, cancer diagnostics have come a long way.  As for my experiences, here are three of the diagnostics that I rarely hear used today:

1)  bone marrow biopsy – taken from each side of my hip (felt like my ankles were being ripped up through my legs).  One side note to this, I actually had to have a third sample taken.  It seems that occurred after I heard my doctor say “oops” and claimed he had “lost” it.

2)  lymphangiogram – a cool sounding test, if you do not mind your legs being propped in a bent position for the entire procedure.  A slice is made into each foot, to all a doctor to use microscopic lenses to see lymph vessels (like blood vessels only much smaller) to inject a radioactive dye, that when subjected to an x-ray, lit my entire lymph system like a human Christmas tree to see where other possible affected lymph nodes might be located.

3) staging laparotomy – spleen removal, node biopsies, liver biopsy.  Not pleasant and quite painful.  An incision from sternum to belly button is made (any woman who has undergone a C-section will know this pain).

These three things were done to determine the staging of my disease, either 1, 2, 3, or 4.  By the time all was said and done, I was diagnosed 3b.  But in the decades since, a new kind of scan is now used to stage almost all cancers, a PET scan.  I only know enough from a few friends and my father who have undergone those scans to know they are no big deal.  In any case, I am glad that this new technology exists, however, it is still far from exact.  There are still uncertainties that exist during the staging process, and this can delay treatments.

So let’s talk about treatments.  Ask any radiation oncologist, and most will probably say they can cure Hodgkin’s Lymphoma with just radiation.  As any of us who grew up near a nuclear reactor like Three Mile Island, or know World War history, radiation in large amounts is a bad, bad, thing.  Side effects are brutal.  But radiation could give remission to certain cancer patients, especially Hodgkin’s patients.  Again, I will go more into side effects in detail in another post, but if you want to sneak a peak, I do have a link to the side effects from radiation I personally dealt with.

In the 1940’s, medicine discovered a drug, nitrogen mustard (a derivative of mustard gas, the same type dictator Sadaam Hussein used to kill his people), which had great results in giving people remission.  Just like radiation, it too had its drawbacks.  Besides being a deadly poison, it was also known to cause sterility in males during treatment.  Unfortunately for me, that occurred.  Shortly after that, a report came out that recommended that maximum treatments to reduce the possibility of sterility.  Yep, the two extra months of chemotherapy are probably what caused my sterility.

Like many people before me, I was treated with both radiation, mustargen, but also a cocktail of six other drugs, all carrying various risks.  And for survivors of Hodgkin’s from as far back as sixty years ago, yes, I know someone who has survived Hodgkin’s that long ago, these risks have become reality for us, and many quite critical to our health.  But again, over the decades since my treatments, the doctors found out that they could treat Hodgkin’s with less drugs, and soon, my chemo cocktail had been cut in half.  The hopes were to produce a remission more safely.  But it cannot be understated that the drugs are still dangerous, the damage to the human body still exists.

The last sentence for me became a reality this past year.  I met a young man who had done so well with his chemo therapy regimen, with the same drugs that I had been given.  Yet weeks later, he would be one of the rare patients who would develop a very bad reaction within two months of being declared in remission.  I did a post on Adriamyacin a couple of months ago, so you can find out the details there, and I will do another post later on.  But the long short of it, this young man, still a kid as far as I am concerned, died less than six months from the time that he was told to go ahead and enjoy his life.

Like I said, treatments today, while better than they were when I was treated, are still bad today.  We need better and safer treatments.  We need better and safer diagnostics.  We need better and safer follow-up guidelines.  I have no doubt in my mind, that had the young man who died as a result of the damage from his treatment, had he been followed up more closely being given a drug that was proven to cause potential damage to the heart, he would still be alive today.  A simple echocardiogram during the middle of the treatment, an inexpensive test when you put it in perspective that the lack of this test cost the man his life, could have given the doctors an opportunity to alter the treatment, or completely change the therapy regimen all together.

And so, during this month of September, National Lymphoma Month, I am going to inform you and educate why it is important to become aware of this rare disease that still needs a cure.  I am not asking you to make a donation, though I know I would personally appreciate it if you would.  But rather, I am about awareness.  Please, share this article, and the many that follow.  Share “Paul’s Heart.”  Together we can make a difference.

Posted in Cancer, Education, Family and Friends, Inspired By..., Side Effects, The Heart and tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
14 Feb 2013

February 13, 2013 – The Colonscopy


There is no video diary of this process.  I am not a Kardashian.

My wife and I arrived up in NYC the afternoon before to locate our hotel room and then me rush to an appointment.  There is a hospital that provides a hotel at discounted prices, so for $250 for the night, the price was not bad.  And no bed bugs. 

Tuesday was Fat Tuesday.  The Pennslyvania Dutch also call it Faschtnact Day.  Faschtnacts are the yummiest, most fat containing, sugariest balls of deep fried dough, called a donut, that if made properly cannot compare if Krispy Kreme and Dunkin Donut were ever able to have offspring.  But for the PA Dutch, these donuts are also a sign of good luck.  It was difficult for me yesterday because I was officially on the clear liquid diet. 

I could not have them, but I wanted to make sure Wendy did, but they were only available by the dozen.  The question was, what to do with the other eleven?  I wrote before about the concierge at Sloan Kettering, Nick, also known as “The Ambassador”.   I thought who better to “enjoy” some good luck, but the man and his co-workers who everyday, greet each and every one of us, no matter what our reason for being there, with a smile and clear welcome.

As I approached the shuttle to get to my appointment at another MSKCC location, there he was.  Nick had actually been at the main building for a computer class that he had to take.  I went right up to him, and handed the box to Nick.  You could not mistake the sweetness because the smell of the donuts coated completely in white powdered sugar just wafted from the box.  He was so touched by the gift as I told him, it was just my way of saying thank you for all the years of “How you doin'” and “good luck today” greetings.  I told him that the next day was important to me, and unfortunately was fasting for it, and could not enjoy the Faschtnacts.  Lightheartedly, I told him, about the good luck that was to come with eating them, my dilemma, but that my luck would not be jeopardized as long as he would enjoy a donut on my behalf.

We rode the shuttle together over to the other location.  Our conversations were a continuous praise of each other’s importance to everyone that was in our lives.  I praised Nick for the many people he helped to put at ease as they entered the hospital for the first time, the most scary time in their life.  Nick told me he was proud to know me, for being an inspiration from my longevity to my determination, to courage I display, and the hope I want everyone to have, to overcome the trials.  I can accept all of the descriptions except for the courage.  I do not feel brave.  I do what I have to because I want to live.  I want to be there for my daughters.  We traded comments back and forth the entire ride.  Nick is such a great guy, and if you would ever have the unfortunate need to be at Sloan Kettering, I hope that your the first person you meet is Nick.  From his first interaction, the tone for the rest of your day will be set, as will the rest of your appointments.

With Valentine’s Day two days away, and no chance of any romance (flatulance is not a phermone, it is funny, but not a turn-on), no romantic dinner, I did the next best thing o the way back to the hotel.  I stopped at Crumb’s bakery for a red velvet cupcake.  If there is one thing I know about Wendy and special days… it is all about the cake.

I arrived back at the hotel.  The schedule had been set 3:00 appointment with Dr. F.,  and had to begin the “cleansing” process at that point at 3:00, and then 5:00 bottoms up.  I had to drink 8 ounces of the concoction that I mixed, part Sprite, and the rest Miralax.

The instructions on the bottle of this mild laxative said to take 17g and mix into fluid.  I had to drink 237grams.  I had high hopes mixing the powder with soda (pop), with a blend that would be familiar and simple to drink.  Now I ilke soda.  It is not unheard of for me to drink up to three liters a day.  But that is clearly because I had time to drink it.  But THIS, I had to drink an 8 ounce glass every 15-20 minutes.  As much as I enjoy drinking my carbonated beverage, I did not at this moment.

To be honest, it was not bad at first.  I chugged the first few glasses.  Maybe a burp.  Nothing down below.  So as another 15 minutes went by, did another shot of drinking a “Sprite Shake”.  Now I was finally feeling something grumble in my stomach.  It was time.  I wondered how long I was going to go through this once I was done drinking.

This was not the ideal romance Wendy had in mind approaching Valentine’s Day.  Watching me set the alarm for every fifteen minutes, drink, race to the bathroom, and repeat.  I’ll spare the rest of the details, because even as a man, it stopped being amusing.  I finished drinking around 9:00, and finished my trips to the bathroom around 10:00.  To be honest, I did not have the abdominal cramping that I expected and had been warned about, bloating sure, which is to be expected from drinking that much soda.  But at no time did I have to grab the “Oh Shit!” bar on the wall along the side of the toilet.  You know what I am talking about?  That metal pole you grab onto thinking an ass-blast is going to launch you off the toilet and your holding on for dear life will prevent that from happening.

The orders were not to have anything to eat or drink after midnight.  This was no problem, off to sleep I went.  I woke up the next morning fairly early, for no particular reason.  I was not nervous or anxious.  As usual, I was not hungry.  And there was also no urgency to get to the bathroom.  I got cleaned up, then woke up Wendy.  The plan was to get in, have the doctor get in, and get in, then get out.

I had gone over everything with Wendy, Plan A, Plan B, and though hopefully never have to be considered, Plan C.  Wendy had been designated my legal proxy in the event of being incapacitated along with making sure that my living directive be followed should anything happe.  From the registration area, we had a small wait in the reception area, and then my name was called.

I got changed into something less modest and climbed up on the bed.  In came the tech to insert the IV into me.  As I do with anyone chasing me around with a syringe or needle, I immediately go into “begging” mode.  I call it begging because I do not do well with needles and after the third or fourth attempt, I have had enough.  My veins have been destroyed by the chemo I had years ago.  So techs must go beyond the surface veins that had been used.  But of course, most techs do not like being told how to do their job.

This nurse was different though.  She had somewhat of a dry sense of humor as I found out.  Never watching the needle being inserted, Iwait for the “taste” of the salene before I begin to breath again and release the thumb nail from the forefinger of the opposite arm being used.  Realizing that she was successful, I told her thank you.  She said not to, because she had to do it again.  I have been through dozens of procedures and I have never had to have another line put in for something this routine, but she made it sound like this one was not viable.  But I saw the salene flowing, and she had left the butterfly needle catheter in my hand.  This lasted about a minute.  Then the joke was over.  In came the anesthesiologist.

There had been some concern from the last procedure that I had done.  Something had been noted that I did not tolerate the sedation prior to the anesthesia, so I was just going to get anesthesia this time.  Puzzled, I offered any kind of suggestions as to what could have been behind the report comment, cardiac, reflex, anything.  But there was no explaination.

Then I was wheeled off into a fantastic room, surrounded by flatscreens, machines, and several people.  My doctor came in, introduced herself, asked if I had any questions, when I said not, before I could get any last-minute immature comments about what she would find up my behind, the anesthesiologist had the mask on me, and I was out.

That is right.  You are either in “twilight” or out cold.  Either way, you have no idea what is going on.  So, down my throat she went with one camera, up the butt she went with the other camera.  No, she did not make any mistake on which one to use.  No, my breath did not smell like shit when I woke up.  No, there was no race to the middle of my intestine or ceremonial knotting of the cameras.

I woke up in recovery.  No fuss.  No muss.  The doctor came in, told me her findings and what had been sent to the labs for examination.  But both endoscopy and cystoscopy went without incident.  And she was confident, there would be no lingering effects like infection (something I am actually prone to).  The only thing I might experience was a sore throat which I do have, and perhaps some cramping which I do not.  So now I wait for the results.

One bad note, the colonoscopy will turn out inconclusive.  As it turns out, the amount of laxative I ingested was not enough, to “cleanse” me out.  Evidently, my bowel habit, rather, lack of one (yes, start the comments “I’m full of shit”, “that’s why my eyes are brown”, my system was not cleaned out enough to get a decent scope done.  Short of going up my behind with an old-fashioned egg-beater, I cannot imagine what I am going to have to go through next year, she has already ordered another colonoscopy to be done, to get cleaned out.  But evidently, it can just might provide me with the experience I did not get the prior night and thought I would.  At least I know what to prepare for.  This just gets chalked up again, to yet another issue of late effects from radiation and chemotherapy treatments of my Hodgkin’s Disease.

In conclusion, I would like to settle some comments that either I have made, or others have made in opposition of getting a colonoscopy done.  Number one, it did not hurt.  Number two, I did not wake up farting KY.  Number three, surprisingly, I did not wake up gay or homosexual (a popular myth of phobics).  Yes I do believe that orifice to be an exit not an entrance, but for this one test, for me to be determined next year it seems, it is important.  In all seriousness, I have lost too many friends to colon cancer, and know many more that are dealing with it.  Being a cancer survivor and having gone through the particular treatments that I did long ago, I am at risk for a secondary cancer, such as colon cancer.  I “manned up” and got it done.  If your doctor recommends it, do it.  Hopefully all you will have to deal with is peace of mind.

I had recieved an email that included a column written by Dave Barry and his experience with the colonscopy.  Barry’s experience was not much different from mine.  What I like that he included in his column, were comments supposedly made by other patients while undergoing colonoscopies.  To which I end with number 13 as I feel it is appropriate for anyone needing this defense ever, in their marriage or relationships.  It has been confirmed my head is not up my ass.

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