Next
September. Fall. Autumn. No more Summer. Here comes Winter.
Tasks such as moving in the patio furniture before the snow begins to descend appear on the to-do list. It is a wonderful time for raking leaves. But be warned, those bags of leaves get heavy and messy when they have been snowed on.
No blood draw this month. No infusions or visit to the hospital or video calls. The next blood draw will be in two months - sometime near the first of November. This lack of constant monitoring, in some way, feels just a bit odd and unfamiliar.
I march forward ever appreciative for each day that my feet hit the bedroom floor first thing in the morning. I am feeling stronger some thirty-three months out of the CAR T procedure. I have noticed that I am not hitting the golf ball any further. The needed perspective tells me not to be concerned about this lack of distance. Instead, focus on the reality that I am still able to be on the golf course and hitting the ball.
I am so grateful for finding myself in my present condition. However, I would be less than honest if I wrote that I am without worry or concern. I must be mindful and aware of my compromised immune system. I must continue to be dutiful to common sense and good judgement when evaluating what may be the best path that I travel moving forward.
Multiple Myeloma does not “go away.” This cancer is with me for the rest of my life. OK, that seems like a particularly important statement of fact.
I am hoping for more life. I want to continue living. I would like for “things” to continue as they are right now for a long time.
Well…. SO WHAT! Next is coming. That is always the way it will be until there is no “next.”
The word “next” is described in my on-line dictionary as “nearest or after the present.” Seems OK. It seems tame and not at all threatening. Yet for the cancer/MM patient, standing side by side to the reality of next is the understanding that “we just do not know” takes up a good portion of space.
Staying in the now seems to be the way to go no matter the location that any of us occupy while on our journey.
Forgetting about next is easier said than done. When I am weary, the challenge of staying in the now becomes almost impossible. Questions such as: When will the other shoe drop? How painful will the treatments be this time around? What can I expect in terms of lasting value and/or effectiveness? create a powerful apprehension and lead to forgetfulness regarding all the joy and wonder available now which can help manage the mental and emotional aspects of the MM journey. A mindset acknowledging that many before and now have survived and some have thrived provides the necessary antidote to feeling sorry for myself.
And so, we feel better and carry on.
There is nothing heroic about what we go through when living with MM. It is what it is. Difficult as it may be, acceptance of this reality helps to smooth out the lows. Acceptance provides a very firm basis for decisions that are and will be made in taking steps forward.
Thoughts about my demise, about dying certainly are encountered and discussed both verbally and non-verbally. I suppose my wife gets tired of me talking about this. At seventy, I am closer to the end than the beginning with or without cancer.
I do not know what next will bring or what it will look like. Does it matter?
It is crazy that, as is, right now, so much has been shared and experienced and all the while so little has been known. I guess that is the way it works.
Song of the Month
Blue by LeAnn Rimes
She was 13 years old when she recorded this gem. Oh, my what a voice. Some people are just flat out talented. Enjoy the sound.
Comments