Today I completed the last of my 13 radiation treatments for the lesion in my right hip.  Let’s hear it for lucky 13!

As I gathered my things and headed to the changing room, one of the radiation techs wished me well and said goodbye.  She added they would all miss me.

“Don’t worry.”  I said.  “I will probably see you again in a few years.”

“Don’t say that!” she replied, a bit surprised.

“That’s ok.  I know my myeloma will come back,” I explained.  I ended our conversation by saying “When it does (come back), we’ll just knock it down again!”

Acceptance.  I don’t worry about my multiple myeloma coming back—I have accepted relapse is inevitable.  It’s a fact.  A myeloma patient would probably have a better chance playing the lottery than achieving a permanent remission.  The possible exception to this rule is if one is willing to take the high risks associated with undergoing a donor stem cell transplant.  Then there is around a 15 percent chance of a cure.  Of course, there is also around a 20 percent chance of dying from the procedure.  I think I will skip this option—at least for now.

All of this doesn’t mean I have given up on seeing a cure.  It just means that, until there is a cure, I have accepted the fact that my myeloma will become active again someday.  So I don’t worry about it!

There is a certain freedom in accepting one’s mortality.

I spoke with a newly diagnosed patient and his caregiver recently while waiting for my radiation treatment.  This 65 year old was having a single myeloma lesion radiated in his lumbar spine.

I could tell he was still in shock and denial.  I tried to interest him in visiting our new support group, but I would be surprised if we see him at a meeting.

Why?  Because he hasn’t learned enough about his cancer yet.  He is still definitely in denial.  “My doctor told me I will probably die of something else,” he said quietly.  I could tell he didn’t want to deal with it.

Too bad, because now is the time he could really use the support he would get from our group—plus the information about treatment options and side effects we all share regularly.

Another newly diagnosed patient contacted me by phone.  I don’t mind, except it didn’t take long to realize this younger gentleman was still deeply angry about his diagnosis.  He didn’t want to hear what I had to say.  He was going to do things his way—right or wrong.  He wasn’t happy about having to face his own mortality.

Even though he was just starting induction, he was already speaking to specialists about getting one of the dangerous donor transplants I mentioned previously.  No matter how hard I tried to argue, he wasn’t going to listen.  An aggressive transplant specialist was pushing him toward that donor transplant.

This patient was so afraid of dying—so desperate for a cure—he was willing to try anything to make the pain go away.  I wish him well.

I prefer to know my enemy and be able to face it.  Having a slow acting, lethal cancer leaves me fighting a battle for survival on a single front.

Call it rationalization.  But it works for me.  And I believe it can work for you, too.

Denial helps for just so long.  And in the meantime, therapy errors can be made that might have been avoided had the patient and caregiver been less fearful and more knowledgeable about their treatment options.

Four years ago when I was diagnosed, we didn’t have sources of information like The Myeloma Beacon or the many other blogs and websites out there to help get an experienced patient’s perspective on things.

I was desperate to find sources of information about myeloma—especially after the dust had settled three or four months after I was diagnosed and started treatment.

I could have used the help.

So take a moment to reflect and meditate about your situation.  Are you in denial?  Are you still angry about your or your loved one’s diagnosis?

Acknowledging this is the first step toward acceptance—and hopefully a longer, happier “new normal” life.

Feel good and keep smiling!  Pat