Poetry touches the personal and the universal. Other people’s experiences remind me of my own, and the written word offers personal nourishment that often speaks to the truth of the multiple myeloma experience.

Awaiting the blossoms and sun of springtime, I came upon a small consoling poem by the Buddhist sage, Huang Po:

“Without undergoing a winter that bites into your bones, how can the plum blossoms regale you with their piercing fragrance?”

And so it is for people living with myeloma.

The Pulitzer Prize was recently awarded to Siddhartha Mukherjee for his book, The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer. This story explores how curious scientists and doctors have investigated the disease through the centuries and collaborated with courageous patients to find treatments.

A medical degree is not required to read Dr. Mukherjee’s story about the ongoing tireless efforts to develop pharmaceuticals to interfere with the cancer cell’s processes and pathways. The hefty non-fiction publication is a saga, a thriller, and a mystery—with a bit of poetry tossed into the tale.

At the heart of each unique expression of cancer is a tendency for the cells to break away in some kind of terrible rebellion. Dr. Mukherjee calls the clever cancer cell a “desperate individualist,” constantly replicating and evolving.

He emphasizes that a world taken over by cancer is “reflected endlessly like a hall of mirrors” and concludes that cancer has become the “new normal” of our times. The question is no longer “if” we get it, but “when?” Having already received my diagnosis is oddly comforting when considering this disheartening news.

The book mentions myeloma only briefly, but it is a fascinating read and a helpful overview of cancer as a multitude of individually unique cases. Even within the world of myeloma diagnosis and treatment, I am learning how varied the disease can be from one person to another.

Dr. Mukherjee’s inclusion of vivid quotes from literature adds hopefulness and beauty to an otherwise difficult subject.

The poet Jason Shindler wrote, “Cancer is a tremendous opportunity to have your face pressed right up against the glass of your mortality.” The powerful image is one many of us can relate to.

“Survivors look back and see omens, messages they missed,” commented author Joan Didion.

This makes me recall one Sunday a few weeks before I was diagnosed with myeloma. I was driving along and discovered that all the buttons of my car radio had been mysteriously tuned into a public radio station running a talk by the 20th century mythologist, Joseph Campbell. Every button I pushed was saying the same thing:

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Myeloma was one of those things waiting for me that I was not planning on. Years later now, the poetry of that moment continues to unfold.

“Poetry is just the evidence of life.  If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash,” wrote poet-singer-songwriter, Leonard Cohen.

Living with myeloma is about keeping your life burning.