As cancer patients, how many times have we heard that our previous concept of normal is gone and we need to adjust to a "new normal"?

One of the first things my first doctor told me was that I would need to accept a new normal.

The health section of my local newspaper has a column each weekend written by a breast cancer survivor, and her article the week after I was diagnosed was about accepting the new normal.

I've found myself using the phrase to explain to people how I deal with the multitude of changes my life has gone through since I was diagnosed with cancer.

The problem, though, is I'm not ready to give up my old normal.  I don't necessarily like the new normal.  In fact, I hate a lot about the new normal.

I'll never consider it normal to have a port in my chest, to have poisons pumped into me, to self-inject myself, to suffer through side effects, to endure bone marrow biopsies, or to deal with the host of other nasty things we go through as a result of our disease.

I also don't want it to become normal to cancel vacations because funds are tight, to miss holiday dinners or birthday celebrations because I don't feel well, to give up activities I enjoy because my health may not be as robust as it once was, or to lose the spontaneity in life because everything needs to be planned around my cancer schedule.

I spent over 50 years establishing my "old normal" and for the most part, I happen to like it.  I don't see how someone can be expected to give up that much time in a matter of months or a few years and truly be comfortable.

It's like being right-handed all your life and then suddenly trying to be left-handed.  No matter how much you try, you'll never do as well left-handed, and things will constantly happen that remind you how much you wish you were still right-handed.

If I accept the new normal, I feel like I'm giving in to the cancer.  Every time I concede a change in my life due to this disease, it feels like I've lost another battle in this war.

Having said all this, I do realize there are some things that cannot help but change, and the idea of a new normal can be a useful mechanism for coping with the fear, uncertainty, and chaos that comes with the diagnosis of multiple myeloma.

In fact, I recently read a couple of articles, including one by Arnold Goodman for the Myeloma Beacon (Arnie’s Rebounding World: The Idea Of the New Normal ^[1]), that do a nice job of advocating the merits of the new normal.

I'm just not ready to jump on the bandwagon.

I'll make the two-day trip for treatment every other week, and I'll take my fistful of drugs each day, because these are necessary to combat the disease.  But otherwise, I'm conceding ground grudgingly.

I believe it's this attitude, along with the excellent treatment I've been receiving, that have allowed me to continue biking and weight lifting and, most recently, resume playing hockey.

Obviously, not everyone is this fortunate.  There's no question this disease takes a real toll, and as it pro­gresses, there are things we are physically unable to do anymore.  How much of the old normal can be retained will always be subject to one's health and common sense.

For me, the trick is finding the right balance - trying to retain as much of my old normal while not taking unnecessary risk.

I'm going to battle multiple myeloma to my last breath, and I'm going to hang on to as much of my old normal for as long as I can.

Peace, and live for a cure.