Birds In Spring: Random Acts Of Kindness
One of the things that having cancer has exposed me to is random acts of kindness.
I first encountered this concept from something the late Princess Diana once said:
"Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day someone might do the same for you."
Not everything about having cancer is bad. Disgraced bicyclist Lance Armstrong, for example, perceived his cancer as “a gift.”
That’s because confronting a diagnosis that says, ‘Hey, maybe you’re going to die soon,’ can bring to many a great deal of insight about what’s going on in their lives and in the world around them. About what’s important and what’s not so much.
I know that getting a multiple myeloma diagnosis takes your breath away. If you’re one of those with the disease, you know what I mean.
It does expose you, though, to the considerable caring that people can have for others, even complete strangers. You learn first-hand what Princess Diana meant about selfless “random acts of kindness.”
I have been so moved by the people who have gotten in touch with me or done something for me since I was diagnosed. This includes people I haven’t seen in years, decades even, who somehow stumbled across my, uh, condition. There are complete strangers – friends of friends – who have contacted me just to give encouragement. And there are several groups of church folks of different denominations who regularly pray for me.
There are people who don’t know me from Adam who somehow came to care about me and want to do something to help.
I have two prayer shawls that two different people at two different churches thought it was worthwhile to spend time knitting for me. I keep one in New York City and one at home.
They are reminders of the good and unselfish things that people do for others.
The other day, Dawn, who is the sister of a neighbor, came across the street, shovel in hand. While I was snowblowing the driveway, she went over and cleared the snow off our sidewalk to the front door.
Dawn, and others, know that pretty much everything I do takes a lot more effort than it used to.
When she was done, she came by, gave me a hug, and went back across the street.
Random acts of kindness, you know.
There are plenty of stories I could tell you about this, but I’m sure you get the point.
As I said, I am very moved by random acts of kindness.
Lou Ganim is a multiple myeloma patient and columnist at The Myeloma Beacon. You can view a list of Lou’s columns here. Lou recently retired from his job and is taking a break from his column to enjoy his retirement. He hopes to resume his column at some point in the future.
If you are interested in writing a regular column to be published by The Myeloma Beacon, please contact the Beacon team at .
I know of not one good thing about having MM. I had a nice life before, now I'm sick everyday. I find it makes people nervous & they don;t know what to say or do. Judy
I'm with Judy on this. My doctor told me at an appt yesterday that I should be happy because my response looks great and all my values are fine...etc. But then he looked at me and somewhat nervously added the caveat, "of course apart from having myeloma."
To which I added, yes, apart from having an incurable disease and apart from having to live month to month on how my test results look. Although I shouldn't have to obsess about the latter, it certainly seems to be the way doctors think - just waiting for my numbers to rise so they can push a transplant.
So no, I am not happy - and short of a cure, will NEVER be happy the way I once was. And it is BS for anyone to suggest otherwise, or to infer that this disease is some type of gift. I also thing it is silly when someone refers to a courageous battle. What choice do we have?
Hi Lou.
Nice article. I recieved the ultimate gift since I was diagnosed. I did an allo transplant from an unrelated Donor. Getting to know a special person that would go out of their way to try and cure a total stranger of cancer has been an incredible experience for me.
Like you I appreciate all of the "little things" again.
Mark
Nice article Lou as always. For me, I am more aware of the little things and appreciate EVERYTHING so much more. It has brought my family closer together and for that I am thankful.
No I'm not happy that I have cancer. No I'm not happy that I don't feel "normal" anymore. But ya know what? I don't sit around having a pity party for myself either. That would do nothing but make me feel even worse. I choose to look for the positive things. I feel that will help in a big way in my battle against this disease.
When you get a cancer diagnosis you have no choice but to go on & live each day as best you can. I don't subscribe to all the trite terminology of wearing ribbons & waging war, fighting battles. After a while it all sounds fake & silly like over used pop culure expressions.I just try to not make my family of 5 grown kids, a great husband & many Grands feels any worse than humanly possible. If you want to cry & grieve & scream go right ahead, we all have to do that sometimes. I don't feel abit couragous, just sick of being sick. Judy
Good post, Lou. I certainly agree with you that there are two sides to this (and we've seen both displayed in the comments here)... and realistically, that's the way of life always. For us, it comes into sharp focus, but we still choose how we live within the context we find ourselves. Granted, some of us have it worse than others, and some (like myself these days) really don't suffer much at all... but whatever the case, we still choose. And given the reality that our time has been proscribed for us by this cancer, doesn't it make sense to make the very best of it we can?
I know for me, I really try very hard to find the good in each day now: I take no day for granted anymore. That alone, I think, is a very big win for me compared to how I used to live. Gratefulness is a concept that was largely alien to me before my diagnosis, but no longer. Anger was my go-to reaction... not any longer. Work was everything. No more.
Yes, I suffer. Yes, I have limitations (the ASCT damaged my heart, for instance.) Yes, I know that I quite unlikely to still be here 15 or even 10 years from now. So? I still have today. I still have my wife and kids. I still have my sense of humour, and I'm not afraid to use it. Heck, I actually still have a lot!
I have to agree with you. While MM has not been any fun and I was absolutely stunned by the diagnosis, it has had a very bright side. I am constantly amazed and sometimes moved to tears with offers of help, emails and comments I get from family, friends and sometimes people I hardly know. Their comments are always so hopeful and full of cheer. I think it has caused me to take a look at myself and how I treat other folks and I am trying to follow the proverb to "always do good when it is within your power".
Mark - I would like to know more about your unrelated donor transplant if you would care to talk about it.
Lou - I have had very similar experiences - random acts of kindness, some from strangers, others from friends or even people I don't know well. Neighbors checking to make sure I am OK (I am alone since my husband died this summer). Churches have put me on their prayer lists - people I do not know who are thinking of my situation and praying for me. I don't like being sick - the ASCT was not fun and did not work (talk about rubbing salt in the wound) and every day has been changed. I did not plan to spend my retirement dealing with cancer, especially an incurable one. However, I don't see any choice but to move forward the best way that I can. The disease has brought me closer to my children, which has been a blessing. There is an upside to cancer - sharing with other patients and laughing over some of the strange results. I wouldn't elect this if I had a choice, but I'm trying to make the best of the time that I have. I find the uncertainty to be the worst thing, so far. This had made me focus more on the present and to try to avoid thinking of the future and all of the things that could go wrong. I also am trying to comfort more people, as I have been comforted.
Great article, Lou. I totally agree with you on your points. There have been so many people who have reached out to me post diagnosis that it has more than restored my faith in the human race. Of course having MM is a diagnosis I wish I didnt have, but I dont believe there is any time to complain about it. It more than likely will shorten my life, so why give it my present by worrying, complaining, etc.? Am I able to manage this every day, no. But there are days when I,too, perform random acts of kindness. And by doing that, I love the feeling of doing unexpected nice things for others, and it takes my mind off me and the cancer! What more can I ask for today?
Thanks for the column, Lou. I have had similar experiences of people being super kind and caring, beyond what I ever realized would happen. Received two prayer shawls also, and was put on a list of people receiving
prayers at the church of some friends too. It all helped me to get over a very 'rough patch'.
Thanks everyone for taking the time to comment here. Having myeloma really sucks, as we all know. Yet it brings into sharp focus an important thing about life. I think it was best expressed by a line in an old Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, which I wrote about in a column a couple of years ago: "Have we made the most of these few precious footsteps?”
Can't say any of your acts have come my way. No one comes knocking here, no one knits, no one has time now after the first few months of treatment.
Everything hurts and no feel good sermon is gonna make it better.
I do not have myeloma, but I do knit! Alex, I am happy to send you a scarf if you are feeling chilly!
Thanks Lou for your heartfelt expressions. I too experienced feeling ill for the better part of a year during chemo. Many acts of kindness were done for my wife and myself by neighbours and friends. I found significant strength in prayer to God and in the knowledge that many others were also praying.
Reading Jesus words at Matthew 6:25-34 helped greatly in dealing with my anxiety and worry. We cannot lengthen our life by being anxious, so I try to look at each day as a new opportunity to live a good life. Even though I have MM, I still volunteer some time each month to help other people who need help as much as or more than me. My wife and I do this together. Yes I have to sit down more than I used to, but knowing our limits is the key to extending those limits over time.
Physical activity has also helped build and maintain a positive outlook. No I cannot do what I used to, but I can do a little more each day. When I look back, I have come along way from the depths of MM when I started chemo. I used to use a walker to go from the lazy boy to the washroom 30 feet away, and I was spent. Today no more walker and I can cut the grass for about 25 minutes. However that is almost 2 years since my diagnosis. Taking our life a day at a time helps us avoid looking back at what we used to do. It helps us focus on what we can do and little improvements we make.
To quote from the Divine Name King James Bible "cast thy burden upon Jehovah, and he shall sustain thee". The love and strength from my wife, my son and daughter-in-law, friends and neighbours has fulfilled that inspiring statement.
I don't know that I can add much to what everyone has so thoughtfully and honestly articulated...but I would like to say, Lou, that your article is a valued reminder of how the adversity of MM can give us an opportunity to re-evaluate our lives and the contributions we can still make to the lives of others. I'd also like to say that each of the responses to your article ring true to me on one level or another...there aren't any of the feelings expressed above that I haven't felt from time to time, and for that matter, from hour to hour on some of the more difficult days! It's particularly difficult to feel "gifted" with MM on those days when the physical and/or emotional pain just seems to overwhelm all of one's attempts at feeling better. At the same time, there are those days where the pain subsides just a bit and maybe the sun comes out from behind these cold, grey clouds of a mid-western winter and you say to yourself, "Hey, maybe this isn't too bad...maybe I can make a go of it after all...MAYBE there are a few things I can feel grateful for?!" And so I try...succeeding sometimes and falling short others...but always I try...for otherwise is to give up...and I'm just not ready to do that yet.
And so that's the way it seems to go for me, for whatever it's worth. But for everyone who's posted here please know that you're not alone in what you're feeling with this horrible disease...at least in this day and age of the internet we can be grateful for websites like TMB that allow us to share what we're going through...what we're feeling. And for that I thank each of you...all of you who help it go just a little bit easier for me...and for each other as well!
Steve
Lou, good to see you writing again. I always look forward to your columns. It is interesting to see the different viewpoints in the responses to your post. Yes, myeloma sucks big time. I don't have it but my husband does. This disease has taken so much from both of us. He remains amazingly positive and I try to help him as much as I can. It could be easy to wallow in the pain and anquish of it all but we don't. Life is to be lived and we are trying our best to enjoy it. And helping others with random acts of kindess (or not so random) helps me cope. At least its one thing in this life we can control. Makes me feel better to help others. Hope we can continue to make each other feel better.
Yes , I will agree with Steve, and Lou I loved your column. Although we have been told we have an incurable disease, we have the opportunity to decide if we want to make each day count. Things that I used to ponder over are not that important anymore. I spend more time having fun with my grandchildren and my friends and family. God's word says don't worry about tomorrow . He will give you the wisdom you need to go THROUGH this thing that Satan has put in your path. You have to realize that you are still alive. Don't take for granted the small things in our lives. I wear a bracelet that says everyday is a gift from God. God will put good people in your path when you need them. I choose to look at the good and the random acts of kindness which are given to me and that I am able to do for others. We are our brother's keeper. If I can make someone else smile or forget their unhappiness, it gives me great joy and I can take my mind off of myeloma for that time. I pray that no one has to go throug this alone. God is there.
Multiple Myeloma has completely ruined the life plan I had for myself. I always wanted to be a find the right guy, have a family. Right after I started dating my husband I got diagnosed. Kids? There is a small chance with fertility treatment, but we fear I might be relapsing so there goes that chance if I have to go on Rev etc.
Also MM has ruined my career. I had spet 8 years going to university at night school to earn my Honours B.A. while working as a secretary. I finally graduated, managed to get a contract in HR management and got diagnosed 2 months later. My contract was terminated when I was on sick leave, and now I'm back at work but I can't find a job in my field and am working as a secretary. I feel bitter about it.
Good side of MM? Random acts of Kindness? not really. When I was in treatment I was on the subway going to the hospital for an appointment mid day (lots of empty seats) i was sitting in the disabled seats and this older lady got on and demanded I give up the seat, I said "i've got cancer I have a right to sit here". Someone else offered her a sit and she was making a scene demanding mine so I told her "F__ Off" I was so mad about it.
I thank God for my family. My expereince with cancer is one where I felt a lot of isolation, and though my friends are good not many called to check up on me often, or came over, or brought me meals or anything. Most visited once in the hospital during my transplant but my husband and family were there for appointments and day to day stuff.
My post is pretty negative! sorry. I do have happy times in my life, just different that what my life was supposed to be.
I am irked because each time I have a "wellness" appointment, the nurse asks me if I am still working.
Yeah, I am still working. I love my work -- I am 51 -- and I have to work for a myriad of reasons, insurance and stability for my family being among them. And my health is fine for now -- even when I had initial anemia that finally led me to begin treatment.
But the question seems to presume that I should throw in the towel, bankrupt my life and family, and become a dedicated cancer patient.
F%^&K THAT.
I add my thanks for an excellent column, and find that the discussion above delineates the spectrum of physical, emotional and even spiritual responses very well. None of us would choose to get this (or any other) disease, and everyone agrees that dealing with MM is very difficult at times. We do NOT create our own reality, as some new age writers advocate; there are so many factors involved. However, we all DO create our response to this (or any other) challenge. Approaching it holistically can lead to unexpected breakthroughs and even blessings, if one is open to these. For me, letting go of control (which truly none of us have), and having faith that we will make it no matter what (even in death) is the key to enjoying life to the fullest.
I am blessed not because I have this MM challenge, but because of the lessons that I have learned, and continue to experience every day. I truly hope that those who are most despondent find a meaning and purpose in life, no matter what challenges it brings. Remember Victor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning". Some people have survived greater challenges than any of us. Blessings to all!
I don't have MM but my good friend Lou does, so I read his columns and all of your comments. You all express yourselves well, and every opinion is valid. I'm so sorry that not all of you are experiencing the kindnesses Lou describes coming your way. I am praying for each one of you who has commented, even not knowing you, so someone is thinking of you, believe me. I never thought, as Lance Armstrong once said, that cancer is a "gift." My younger sister is going on hospice this week, dying from lung cancer, and it's wrenching.
So many more great comments and insights from all of you. Dan, I know what you mean about that "still working" question. I've gotten that so much from health care providers, usually nursing staff. I'm a lot older than you, but I still think the question is an odd one. I was just reading about an actor in a role and I looked up his age. He was 82. And he looks and acts great. First, I want to live to be 82 with this disease (that's a long way off still); and second, I want to be able continue to do some work things at that age if I so choose.
Alex -- You ought to take up Lisa R's offer for the knitted scarf. Really.
Thanks again to all for writing in on this -- it's been a great discussion with different perspectives. And it helps me, and others I'm sure, understand what coping with this nasty disease means to different people.
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