And So, It Goes

June (my birthday month) 2026 marks thirty months since my Car T Cell procedure. The numbers/results from my blood draw this month indicated nothing, which is very much desired when you are managing Multiple Myeloma (MM). Numbers are holding steady. No changes. And thus, it was again decided that two months would pass before the next draw (August 2026) would be taken.

This month, I reached the age of seventy.

I write that line with a tremendous sense of awe - not about myself – but about all that has taken place for me to get to be seventy years old. Honestly, I did not see this happening. Extremely emotional.

I was first diagnosed with MM when I was fifty-eight. It was a Friday in January. After the results of an MRI came back and the results of a blood draw/urine sample came in, my GP did not definitively diagnose my cancer because he said that an oncologist would have to do that. But he was pretty, pretty sure about what was causing my back to ache and what had caused all the holes in my bones that were noticed on the MRI I had that same morning to find out why my back was killing me. The definitive diagnosis did indeed come the following Monday from the local oncologist.

When he stated that he believed I had cancer/MM, I was gobsmacked. As I sat in the chair across from the desk from him and was being made aware of my situation it seemed unreal. But it was real. Of course, I asked the question that I am quite certain is at the forefront of any and every initial cancer diagnosis. “Was this a terminal situation and if so, what was an expected timeline for someone such as myself “???

Making it to seventy was not even considered. Seventy was twelve years away. Heck, I was not certain that I would make it to sixty.

Of course, as was the case in what I believe to be almost 100% of cancer diagnoses situations, the answer to that most pertinent of questions asked was “I don’t know”. Right then I realized that moving forward was going to require an ability to live with uncertainty.

Very quickly it becomes apparent that to survive, mentally, a cancer patient often needs to adjust/readjust the existing chronological expectations of one’s life and to begin anew with a different perspective of the future. I was fifty-eight and still working and right then a possible retirement scenario was the furthest idea that could have been pondered.

It was imperative that I learn to re-structure my life into segments focused on treatment schedules and protocols on a daily basis and not on any idea of months and years beyond the current protocol that I was on.

The self-talk/self-survival was something like this. Step 1:  Take the chemo Step 2:  Answer to yourself the questions “How am I feeling?”; “Can I get through today”? Step 3:  Maybe a thought about tomorrow that goes something like “oh boy, I hope tomorrow doesn’t feel so lousy”. That became the extent of my life timeline.

For years when someone would refer to next month or next year, I just did not understand. It made no sense. Next month, next year – hell, sometimes I felt lucky if I made it to the next day, to tomorrow.

The age of Sixty came and went. I do not remember much about turning sixty other than I was on some protocol that would hopefully get me to tomorrow. Yes, the thought of tomorrow was allowed to enter my world. Of course, my world was all about taking chemo, taking steroids, feeling crazy bad (chemo) and surprisingly crazy good (steroids – until they wear off and then  the lousy sort of sets in again and it is almost time for more chemo).

It was when my oldest sister turned seventy (4 years ago), that I first entertained the notion that maybe someone (myself) could, possibly make it to seventy in my condition. I quickly dispelled that notion because it did not fit into the mindset that was adopted when first diagnosed – only today – that is all I have. That is the focus.

For me, there is great comfort in not being caught up in the “lets live forever” marketing schemes that seem to bombard many of us as we journey. MM/Cancer has drawn the curtains aside and has made the reality of our vulnerability, and the preciousness of our experiences quite clear.

Seventy is a rather large number and now I am seventy. Not sure what it means or what it is supposed to signify other than it comes after 69 and before 71. However, I am very pleased.

This journey continues. Gratitude and joy, some pain and suffering. Some cancer related, some not. July, then August and then there is the next blood draw. Who knows what will surprise? I do know that it is two months away.

Today I went golfing with my son. Great day.

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Song of the Month

Somewhere Over China by Jimmy Buffett

"Just a semi normal person, thought he had the future planned” might be just about the best opening line for song that has ever been written.

Enjoy the song and enjoy being a semi normal person.