How do you keep yourself from constantly thinking about this disease?

I realize I'm very fortunate to be healthy (except for the fact I have cancer) and don't have any of the physical issues associated with multiple myeloma that so many others have to deal with.  Consequently, however, the battle for me tends to be mostly psychological.

For me, that's not necessarily a good thing.

I have degrees in electrical engineering and mathematics, and as you might imagine, I'm a geek, I'm a problem solver, and I will obsess on any topic of significance to me.  It's no surprise that I have countless files about myeloma filling my hard drive and spreadsheets and graphs tracking my disease.

Unfortunately, it's that same tenacity that causes me to dwell on my cancer if I don't have anything else occupying my thoughts.

It's like a siege where an attacker continually bombards the defender hoping to wear them down or wait them out until they run out of resources.

Or like the sinus infection I recently had and and the resulting migraines I was fighting for three weeks.  Towards the end of the second week, I would have done just about anything to rid myself of the pain and to get a good night sleep.

I get the same way mentally with this disease, just wishing for some quiet time where I can chill out or go to bed at night without thinking about myeloma before falling asleep.

I can’t even get relief when I am sleeping due to what I've come to call "chemo dreams."

I don't know if it's the chemo drugs, the supporting cast of drugs I take to counterbalance them, or something else, but since early in my treatment, I've been having very vivid dreams.

Consequently, I frequently wake several times a night, many times in a sweat (probably due to the fluid retention caused by the dexamethasone ^[1] (Decadron)), and don't feel very rested in the morning.

In addition, many of the dreams are related to my cancer, the most frustrating being those where I get shunted from room to room, receiving infusion after infusion, all night long.

Another aspect of my battle is dealing with "chemo brain," a topic that I first came across in one of Pat Killingsworth's columns for the Myeloma Beacon.

Prior to the article, I was continually frustrated by the fuzziness that would occasionally plague my thought process, the difficulty I had coming up with words, or thinking of something and two minutes later not being able to recall the thought.  I'm still frustrated by it, but at least I have a name and a reason for it now.

Finally, there's just the emotional roller coaster from the ups and downs of the disease.

One day, I'm encouraged by the advancements being made in treating myeloma, or doctors and researchers starting to talk about cures or at least treating multiple myeloma as chronic disease,  then the next day, I'll read that the mean survival is still only about five years, or how someone has relapsed, or how the latest greatest drug only provides an additional 8 to 10 months survival.

There's the constant wondering as to what my next set of results will be, wondering when I'll eventually relapse, or knowing at some point the disease will most likely progress to where I do experience the physical effects.

Worst of all is when I start thinking of the impact this disease will eventually have on my family and the likelihood I'll be leaving them behind at some point and won't be around to grow old with my wife or see my kids start families.

At least right now, I'm on one of the ups since my latest lab results show no M-Spike.  If I repeat it with my next set of results, I'll have finally reached complete response (but I guess that will be followed by the down of another bone marrow biopsy - c'est la vie).

Given the "mental" nature of this article, I'll close with a peek into my warped mind …

When I was diagnosed and told I had multiple myeloma and having grown up on classic rock, one of the first things I remember thinking was how myeloma sounded like My Sharona (by the Knack ) and wondering if Weird Al Yankovic would write a parody for it (i.e., M M M My Eloma).

I'd love to hear if, and how, others deal with the psychological impact of this disease.

Peace, and live for a cure.