A friend recently mentioned that her new task in life is to ask for the impossible. This idea captured my imagination because so much of living with multiple myeloma is about asking for the best possible outcomes that often feel impossible. Each case of myeloma is so individual, as evidenced by the variety of stories I have read here on The Myeloma Beacon.

Storytelling seems to be a natural reaction to illness. Writing about our experiences may even raise our antibodies against illness and pain to help us become well.

During the late 1990s, Dr. James Pennebaker conducted research to learn more about the impact of writing on human physiology. He looked at blood samples before and after students wrote regularly over several weeks about traumatic or stressful subject matter. He discovered clear indications of heightened immune function after the writing experience.

Writing is commonly included in many kinds of therapy, and most support groups begin with a chance for people to tell a bit of story. Blogging and social media offer another kind of therapeutic outlet, but the brain works differently as the hand moves across the page making marks.

Write whatever comes into your mind—no need for proper grammar, spelling, and structure. Begin with random words or lists. This is more of an exploration than a clearly sensible narrative. Think of this kind of writing as similar to music—your own personal soundtrack. Opening up to the imagination and emotions is a way to ask for the impossible.

The truth of our story changes depending on what day it is and who we are telling it to. A personal writing practice gives you ownership of your inner life—thoughts, feelings, dreams, and fantasies.

Illness takes away privacy and power—writing is empowering. Living with myeloma sparks a need to know about health, nutrition, and cutting-edge treatment. Beyond physical survival is a world of philosophical and spiritual questions that are often left in the background and not easy to discuss.

The cellular change promoted by stem cell transplant seems to lead to personal transformation that is more subtle. Writing through the changes can be surprisingly calming—as if all complications are manageable in the notebook. I do not know where the phrase “fake it until you make it” originated, but there is some truth in it. During treatment and recovery, I was often too tired to do much reading or writing, so it took me awhile to get back to these activities. However, eventually these activities helped to replenish my chemo-brain and give me a new focus, allowing me to push beyond my illness.

“Writing Out The Storm: Reading and Writing Your Way Through Serious Illness or Injury” by Barbara Abercrombie is a small, useful book to help you get started. She refers to other authors who have written about their illness and mentions a wonderful line from a poem by Raymond Carver: “Time is a mountain lion.”

When I lived in Colorado, hiking or biking in the mountains included the risk of crossing paths with a mountain lion. I never thought about it much and I never saw one, but stories of unfortunate clashes between lion and man turned up in the news now and then. The animal hides quietly in the shadows until it wants someone. Time and mortality are natural things to ponder and examine through writing.

Health and medicine can be measured and predictable—much about life remains unknown. Asking for the impossible is bound to result in discovering what is possible. Writing through this process can add clarity at times when there is confusion. I suspect many readers already use this tool. If not, it does not take much to get started—paper and pen is all you need.