We are all here because of advances in myeloma treatments. We have been given time. Some say we “buy” it—exchange the experience of chemical therapy for time to adapt and grow in the shadow of myeloma. Illness is pushed back so that we can carry on our lives.

I have recently encountered someone who is researching patient survival stories in an effort to write a book that offers hope for the terminally ill, a prognosis that is degrading and not particularly scientific.

The mind is a powerful aspect of health, especially when people begin to adopt healthier lifestyles and other personal changes. Acceptance of things as they are may be a part of that. I am curious about stories of people who experience spontaneous remission or those who become well through personal effort. Many people do survive for a long time, and health can be restored.

I also wonder how many myeloma patients go on with their lives without further complication due to myeloma.

I asked a health professional if she knew of any patients who never had a reoccurrence of disease. She shook her head “no.” I was not convinced. Some patients must begin to recognize themselves as well and simply drop out from the medical system. They get lost in the reporting.

Another doctor told me that I would likely die of something other than myeloma. One medical issue does tend to lead to another. We are a web of connections.

“I pictured myself as a virus or a cancer cell and tried to sense what it would be like,” Jonas Salk said in response to his famous vaccine discovery that shut down the polio epidemic. They called it a cure.

People with cancer are often encouraged to explore a similar technique by visualizing the elimination of such cells. I have tried painting cells as harmonious spheres. Mostly, I find these exercises difficult. There is another side of this kind of imagining—some integrative health approaches discourage repetitive thoughts about cancer cells, ill health, or death. Focused attention on any phenomenon may tend to increase it.

When I was quite ill after diagnosis, people sent cards mentioning that my name had been added to prayer lists. A good friend was a shaman-in-training and worked some of her practices on me. I received blessings from two Tibetan spiritual leaders, including the Dalai Lama.

I also developed my own personal practices. When I finally was able to sit up in bed without pushing myself up, I began a morning ritual of sitting up and speaking the words "thank you."

Scientifically, there is no such thing as a cure for myeloma. However, I am beginning to believe that a cure does not arrive in one neat package. A cure sneaks up on you. It evolves from your own experience as a very special blend of chemical, nutrient, action, and thought—a personalized blend of good medicine that we exchange for hours, days, weeks, and years.