My life has a lot of aspects to it right now.
I'm living a very ordinary one, to begin with. My body is adjusting pretty well to the chemo, and my side effects are minimal. My vision is about the worst of things. The steroids apparently cause blurry vision. I did get a new pair of eyeglasses as it was probably time for that anyway. I'm back to work, and that's going well. I work with some really terrific people who are watching out for me. It's funny at my age to have a bunch of new "Moms" keeping an eye on me, and I'll take it. I do sleep a lot, but that's how we recharge the batteries, right? I eat well (sometimes too well!) and my life's routine is almost back to normal, however boring that is.
I'm living a very lucky life too. When I go into the Center for my treatments, I see some people who are so desperately ill and it touches the heart to see them smiling and battling. There aren't any grouchy people there, and that's incredible. There are people well into their 70's and 80's, sick as can be, and they're cheerful. Everyone chats, shares snacks and treats, and under other circumstances, this could be a fun group to hang out with. There's a NJ State Trooper, in his 30's, who is being treated for Leukemia, and he's the unofficial mayor of the clinic. He makes his rounds, chatting people up and making friends. There's another gentleman who is 79, I believe, and he really is a "gentleman." He sits quietly, but responds cheerfully when spoken to, and reads his newspaper. (Remember those?) But whenever I feel whiny, I think about the people who are fighting much bigger battles than I am. Mine is not a death sentence, mine is not so awful. It's taken its toll on my body, for sure, but there is a bright future possible for me. I know, from much experience, that some cancers are still killers. But that doesn't seem to discourage any of my chemo buddies, and that's so inspiring. I can't be a baby in that kind of company, now can I?
My friends have put together a blood donation drive for me. It's September 29th and it's such an honor. Some people have really stepped up with a ton of support for me, and sometimes I don't feel as though I deserve that much love, but again, I'll take it. I know for sure that my heart is very much alive because it's swollen with love and gratitude. No man is an island, and that sure is true when you need a hand.
I'm aiming to keep these posts short, so I'll quit for now. I'm also going to try and make this a little lighter and sillier. Being so serious just doesn't feel right. I'll work on that.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Life Goes On and On ... 62 Months
Who'd ever think that a return to ordinary life routines could be so exciting. Well, I'm excited today.
I'm back on the job as of 9:30 this morning, and I couldn't be happier. (Ok well maybe a winning lottery ticket would help boost that a little...) I think the most important thing to do when slugging it out with cancer is to maintain some sense of normalcy. No one wants to feel "different" for the wrong reasons.
It just makes life so much better when we can do the things we're used to doing, to feel that comfort of the familiar. Daily routines and regimens help keep us sane. I think for my kids' sake, the best thing that could happen is to remove the stigmas and alarm and discomforts of this disease. Show them that no foe is invincible.
"Life goes on" is a great mantra in these circumstances. The best way to beat cancer is to not let it win in the first place. Sure, it has undeniable physical effects that can't and won't be ignored. This isn't about a fairy tale. It's a real problem that doesn't simply get willed away. But victories have to be complete in order to count. If cancer beats the body down, it's the spirit that helps fight back. Cancer never really wins if it doesn't take your heart and soul.
Cancer has given me the opportunity to experience just how wonderful people can be. If you're ever wondering whether your words matter, try saying them to someone who's struggling. I can tell you first-hand that words matter. I'd get a message, and email, a Tweet, a Facebook post, and in the blink of an eye, the day would get better.
Love someone today. And let them know that you do. People living regular, everyday lives are always in need of a little of that. Remind yourself that it's more important to take the chance and put some kindness out there than it is to sit quietly. You matter a lot. Support is everything.
I'm smiling today because I'm ordinary. And I'll take that..
I'm back on the job as of 9:30 this morning, and I couldn't be happier. (Ok well maybe a winning lottery ticket would help boost that a little...) I think the most important thing to do when slugging it out with cancer is to maintain some sense of normalcy. No one wants to feel "different" for the wrong reasons.
It just makes life so much better when we can do the things we're used to doing, to feel that comfort of the familiar. Daily routines and regimens help keep us sane. I think for my kids' sake, the best thing that could happen is to remove the stigmas and alarm and discomforts of this disease. Show them that no foe is invincible.
"Life goes on" is a great mantra in these circumstances. The best way to beat cancer is to not let it win in the first place. Sure, it has undeniable physical effects that can't and won't be ignored. This isn't about a fairy tale. It's a real problem that doesn't simply get willed away. But victories have to be complete in order to count. If cancer beats the body down, it's the spirit that helps fight back. Cancer never really wins if it doesn't take your heart and soul.
Cancer has given me the opportunity to experience just how wonderful people can be. If you're ever wondering whether your words matter, try saying them to someone who's struggling. I can tell you first-hand that words matter. I'd get a message, and email, a Tweet, a Facebook post, and in the blink of an eye, the day would get better.
Love someone today. And let them know that you do. People living regular, everyday lives are always in need of a little of that. Remind yourself that it's more important to take the chance and put some kindness out there than it is to sit quietly. You matter a lot. Support is everything.
I'm smiling today because I'm ordinary. And I'll take that..
Friday, September 7, 2012
62 Months - Good News
I met with my Oncologist today and it was all good news. Things are moving along as hoped, and we're aiming at the end of this year to get the remission/stem cell transplant things moving along. My doctor is confident that while there is currently no cure for Multiple Myeloma, there is certainly a way to live with it. And live with it I will.
I know some people might wonder why I'd take this personal situation public. I'll tell you why I am doing just that. First and foremost, I've given myself a chance to see just how supportive and encouraging and loving people can be. Even relative strangers have reached out and touched my heart.
But more importantly, I'm doing it because I am a very ordinary guy. There is nothing heroic, superhuman or even extraordinary about me. I'm as plain as they come. This cancer is evil, but a lot of people haven't heard of it. It generally strikes older people (45 and older). And when you get a diagnosis like this one, there isn't a whole lot of information out there that isn't scary.
But cancer can be treated like the bully it is. It comes at you, you go back at it. It gets aggressive? Well you just get more aggressive. There are some very capable doctors out there. There is a great research foundation out there, http://www.themmrf.org/ that you can check out.
I know someone will be diagnosed with this again soon. If they are, send 'em to me. I'm no braver than anyone else. I just trust in my doctors, follow the instructions, and I'm getting better. I looked at cancer and said, "F*ck you!"
Remember, any cure will start with one patient. Why not me? Or why not them?
Time to #deletebloodcancer
I know some people might wonder why I'd take this personal situation public. I'll tell you why I am doing just that. First and foremost, I've given myself a chance to see just how supportive and encouraging and loving people can be. Even relative strangers have reached out and touched my heart.
But more importantly, I'm doing it because I am a very ordinary guy. There is nothing heroic, superhuman or even extraordinary about me. I'm as plain as they come. This cancer is evil, but a lot of people haven't heard of it. It generally strikes older people (45 and older). And when you get a diagnosis like this one, there isn't a whole lot of information out there that isn't scary.
But cancer can be treated like the bully it is. It comes at you, you go back at it. It gets aggressive? Well you just get more aggressive. There are some very capable doctors out there. There is a great research foundation out there, http://www.themmrf.org/ that you can check out.
I know someone will be diagnosed with this again soon. If they are, send 'em to me. I'm no braver than anyone else. I just trust in my doctors, follow the instructions, and I'm getting better. I looked at cancer and said, "F*ck you!"
Remember, any cure will start with one patient. Why not me? Or why not them?
Time to #deletebloodcancer
Thursday, September 6, 2012
62 Months - Thinking
56 days into the process. Wow.
One thing I highly recommend is not thinking too much. There is definitely such a concept as "overthinking". You can start being annoyed by the pills and medicines and shots. Yes, it's mundane and routine to wake up every day and count pills to swallow. The doctor's appointments can take forever (although not in my case, not at all), and there is always the insurance company nonsense.
But that's nothing compared to what would be happening to me if I weren't taking medicines and seeing doctors and getting MRI's and xrays and shots and... well you get the point. Sometimes I read or hear something someone writes or says, and I want to yell, "Cut it out!" The sad thing about being human is that there is always someone worse off than you are. There's always someone whose personal hell is a lot hotter than yours.
The happy thing about being human is that there is always someone there who is looking to lend a hand, to share some kind words. There can be a lot of pleasure in the simplest meal, a lot of joy in the briefest conversations. Stop worrying, stop thinking. Put your faith in the doctors, let them do their job. Let people help. Find friends you haven't met yet. Touch base with old friends. And love your family.
Live.
One thing I highly recommend is not thinking too much. There is definitely such a concept as "overthinking". You can start being annoyed by the pills and medicines and shots. Yes, it's mundane and routine to wake up every day and count pills to swallow. The doctor's appointments can take forever (although not in my case, not at all), and there is always the insurance company nonsense.
But that's nothing compared to what would be happening to me if I weren't taking medicines and seeing doctors and getting MRI's and xrays and shots and... well you get the point. Sometimes I read or hear something someone writes or says, and I want to yell, "Cut it out!" The sad thing about being human is that there is always someone worse off than you are. There's always someone whose personal hell is a lot hotter than yours.
The happy thing about being human is that there is always someone there who is looking to lend a hand, to share some kind words. There can be a lot of pleasure in the simplest meal, a lot of joy in the briefest conversations. Stop worrying, stop thinking. Put your faith in the doctors, let them do their job. Let people help. Find friends you haven't met yet. Touch base with old friends. And love your family.
Live.
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