“Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.”
– Max Ehrmann, Desiderata.

I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in July of 2009 at the age of 58. In hindsight, I should have known that a misfortune was developing because things started to change earlier that year.

The spring of 2009 was a late, cold one here in Calgary. Snow storms buffeted us almost weekly into May. Most outdoor exercise seemed to include snow shoveling and walking with snow boots on. Dreams of flower gardens and spring activities were postponed until June.

I found myself hurriedly filling in garden pots at the end of May to create an annual garden for our back deck. There, the blooms would be safe from being nibbled by deer and rabbits.

I lifted a big pot full of seedlings and twisted sideways with it to set it down. OOOPS! I could feel something give in my low back. The pots could wait. In fact they never did get lifted over onto my back deck.

I thought ruefully that I was getting too old for some of my previous exercises. I had eased off of other really strenuous activities in the previous few years. For example, I ran two half marathons a few years ago but realized that they were really quite a bit beyond my capabilities, so just left it at that. I am not Superwoman!

The next day, it snowed heavily across the foothills into the Calgary area. I had been tentatively planning to go bagpiping in a parade in the nearby town of Black Diamond, Alberta, that morning. The parade was cancelled due to weather. My back was still sore, and I was glad to stay home. I did some quilting instead, using my new sewing machine.

We spent the middle of June in Banff National Park. The early spring flowers and bright green leaves were so appealing to the senses. I went hiking up Tunnel Mountain and back down, about six kilometers. I tried to ignore my low back pain, which was becoming more insistent. A female deer and her fawn were resting in amongst the spruce trees, and it brought tears to my eyes.

At the end of June, I attempted another parade, this one in Standard, Alberta. It was a run-up to the Calgary Stampede parade, but because I had not practiced much I was unsure of whether or not to attempt the long parade.

My low back was still very sore, but I still thought it was muscular pain. I finished the short parade but that half hour of activity seemed to pull another muscle across the upper back. Now I was really stiff and sore. Making my apologies to the band group, I explained that I was not feeling up to doing any longer parades at this time. I motored off home, stopping to pick up some red and white petunias for Canada Day on July 1.

With the holiday falling on a Wednesday that year, we had a long weekend ahead of us. We spent some time relaxing at home and went to a neighbor’s deck party on the 4th.

The following morning, I went to get up but hadn’t yet taken the muscle relaxant meds that had been recommended to me to control muscle pain and spasm. I ignominiously fell flat on my side on the floor, my muscles seized up and out of my control.

It took me about 15 to 20 minutes to gain control of myself to sit up. My husband was most solicitous in helping me back to bed where we tried to figure out what was the matter with me. This was way beyond any injury I had previously experienced.

That spring was a confusing one, and the diagnosis was still to come.