I began a new practice after my birthday a few months ago. I filled a green bowl with 52 marbles. Each week I move one marble into a smaller white one. Taking a pause each week to reflect is another way to feel the texture of life – another version of “live one day at a time.”

A picture of this smaller bowl is the avatar that shows up by my comments here on The Myeloma Beacon. It is also the inspiration for the title of my column, “Pat’s Cracked Cup,” explained in my first Myeloma Beacon column called “My Experiment ^[1].” Looking back at some of my previous columns helps me to notice the process of my changing relationship to multiple myeloma.

One year ago, I wrote “Transplant Birthday ^[2].” We mark anniversaries of all kinds as a way to track our experience. I mentioned in that column that one human development theory suggests human beings evolve in 7-year cycles. It can be a fun exercise to break down your own 7-year periods of life to notice the patterns of change.

Those of us who have received stem cell transplants have an opportunity to experience a kind of rebirth as we begin again with our new cells. I am in the second year of my second 7-year-cycle beyond the autologous stem cell transplant.

My first 7-year-cycle after transplantation was one of illness, treatment, recovery, and a gradual re-entry into the world of the well. Despite the tentative quality to my good fortune, I find myself stronger and more relaxed as I move ahead with unexpected wellbeing. I heard the much-anticipated words, “complete remission” seven years ago.

My weekly marble practice is a reminder of the preciousness of the hours, days, and weeks.

I heard a story on the radio about a sixty-something couple in Australia who faced the husband’s terminal cancer diagnosis after the news that he had only weeks left to live. They sold their home and took off on exotic trips and an extravagant spending spree. I can imagine their sense of adventure and completion as they lived large in their so-called final days together.

The big shock arrived when the doctor informed them that there had been a misdiagnosis. The man was not actually dying.

Meanwhile, the pair spent all their money and charged up massive debt in their “seize the day” approach to the first prognosis. A screenplay version of this story is likely already being written, as there is universal humor and meaning to be found in this human tale.

The lessons seem to be: 1) occasionally, misdiagnosis happens; 2) prognosis is a possibility rather than an exact science; 3) living with any diagnosis includes a richness that is unique to the individual.

Living with multiple myeloma has added quality to my life that can be realized one week at a time.