Lou Ganim’s most recent article in his Beacon column “Birds In Spring” looks at the reactions of others when they learn that you have cancer. It reminded me how a “coming out” process has unfolded for me in the last few years.

My diagnosis eight years ago was not a quiet doctor’s office discovery. After weeks of frequently calling in sick to work and little social life, an emergency room visit left me no time or space to hide. Everyone in my life soon knew I had cancer.

Spending time in a hospital is like living in a fishbowl. I would have liked more privacy, but I see now that I was given an opportunity to direct my energy toward healing rather than concealing my condition.

The following year I moved to a new place where I encountered new people and situations where my cancer back-story was unknown. It was liberating to leave multiple myeloma behind. I found myself careful to not reveal the information online where anybody searching on my name would discover it.

People live with all kinds of dark secrets—married lovers, children given up for adoption, criminal charges, financial desperation. How do they keep those parts of themselves from showing?

There is a television show, “The Big C,” about this very subject. I am a season behind on the storyline, but the episodes explore one woman’s journey after a cancer diagnosis. She initially chooses not to burden her family and friends with the new information. Complications follow.

Deception takes a toll—so does the truth, but it is necessary for healing.

“Illusion is a scent of something real coming close.” I heard this line in a movie. We live in a world of illusion. For me, that includes the ongoing relationship between myself and myeloma.

Living beyond illness and treatment leaves one in a state of illusion. I would prefer to live with things as they are, but that is easier said than done.

I remember the first time I told a man I was dating about the cancer. His eyebrows went up and an entire facial expression told me volumes in about 10 seconds.

The other day I mentioned living with cancer to a friend, and she expressed some surprise. Even though I had previously mentioned myeloma, I realized that a lot had been lost in translation.

Most days, there is little occasion to mention anything about myeloma—casual encounters, job interviews, and daily conversations. There is no good way to reveal a “chronic illness” to a potential employer, even when good health prevails. However, explaining a long gap in employment without mentioning the facts only leads to a string of deceptions and is usually not convincing.

The Myeloma Beacon offers a safe place to be out of the closet with myeloma. In my case, whatever I write in these articles is entirely public and searchable. There is no turning back for me.