More and more reports have been in the news about the rising number of people living alone in America and other Western countries.

According to Eric Klinenberg’s research in his book, “Going Solo,” 28 percent of all American households and one in ten people over age 65 live alone, more than ever before in history.

While the circumstances leading to this lifestyle vary, the impact is significant for those diagnosed with multiple myeloma, as well as their circle of family and friends.

Adults transition in and out of living alone and with others. The discussion of how this trend has grown in our society is a long and interesting one.

Although the Internet offers new ways for a social life of community, online connections cannot drive you to an appointment, prepare you a meal, or assist with other endless needs that arise when health fails.

I was living alone without children or a partner in a city several states away from family when I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. Some of my most difficult times were before I was diagnosed and trying to carry on with severe back disability. It would often take me hours to simply sit or stand upright.

That time proved to be a true test of my network of support.

Family and friends do rise to the occasion as much as possible. I found much-needed help throughout treatment, and I remain grateful for the phone calls, mail, financial gifts, visits, meals, cleaning, errands, and other kindnesses from so many.

Four months after my diagnosis, I was asked to attend a stem cell transplant orientation for patients and caregivers. I brought a friend along with me, but she lived an hour away and was clearly not signing on to be my “caregiver.” I patched together enough assistance to get through the stem cell transplant process without a designated caregiver. All involved were relieved to finally be able to step back a bit afterward.

Helping someone through a crisis is one thing – offering support through an ongoing illness requires something extra.

I naturally tune into stories of how others manage during their time of treatment. I know of a couple cases where women scheduled treatment in a city where a child, sibling, niece, or nephew resides. With the rising cost of fuel and airfare, back-and-forth travel can become prohibitive.

Volunteer groups can offer amazing support through meal delivery, errands, and transportation to doctor’s visits, but someone has to handle the application for such services.

People outside an individual’s circle of close contacts are also often willing and able to help – if asked. The key ingredient is simply having one person act as advocate to manage the entire situation.

One scenario I heard about involved an active, accomplished woman who lived alone on the West Coast. When diagnosed with a form of cancer, her wide network of friends and associates stepped up to help – for awhile. When it was clear that she would not be able to resume her old level of activity, a niece generously quit her job in another city to move in with her. Eventually, the responsibility became too much. The woman’s sister relocated her to the East Coast in order to look after her in her own home.

In some cases, people who live alone are offered services, such as visiting nurses and inpatient care, more readily when a caregiver is not in the picture. Patients with partners and children are often assumed to have their caregiver needs met, but this can place unreasonable demands on those who are not so well suited to the tasks.

I am wondering about the experiences of other Beacon readers. How have those who live alone managed through the different stages of living with multiple myeloma? How does the need for help from others impact recovery?