When we are diagnosed with multiple myeloma, we find that we have to con­front our own mortality. Since it’s something we all face, I thought I’d share some thoughts on the topic.

Some may find this a bit morbid.  I don’t blame them.  Nobody really likes to talk about death and dying.  Especially their own.

I prefer to write about more cheerful topics, but one can’t be cheerful all the time.  Today’s not particularly cheerful either for that matter.  Like John Phillips wrote, “All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey.”

Way back in my newspapering days (we’re talking ‘60s and ‘70s here, folks), we loathed a couple of terms about death and weren’t allowed to use them.  One was “died unexpectedly.”  What?  Was he or she ex­pected to die at some other time?  Or so the thinking went.  Another was, “died prematurely.”  As far as I’m con­cerned, whenever I pass on, it’s going to be premature; most others probably feel the same way.  In­stead, we always just used “died.”  None of this “passing on” stuff (as I just used) or whatever eu­phe­mism.

I really don’t dwell on my mortality, but it got on my mind because I’ve read many articles recently about those with multiple myeloma who have died and about younger people getting the disease.  Heck, it’s one thing to get myeloma in your sixties or later.  It’s quite another to be diagnosed in your thirties of forties.  Or even your twenties.

The likely shortened life span that we get from myeloma bothers me.  Not just for myself; it also bothers me a lot when I read about people whom the disease takes quite quickly.  What a waste.

I’ve thought about my funeral and how I think it should go down.  (Hey – it’s my funeral!).  I’ve even written down a few notes and found a web site that can help me write my own obituary.  I haven’t done it yet, but un­less I die, um, unexpectedly, I am going to write my own obit.

When I tell people that I’ve done these things, they are appalled.  Some actually cringe.  They think it’s a crazy idea.  They think I’m crazy.

I don’t think it’s a crazy idea.  But, to paraphrase Billy Joel, they may be right, I may be crazy.

I know some people don’t handle the diagnosis well.  They fear dying, um, prematurely.  Again, I don’t blame them.  It feels like a robbery.  It’s not “your money or your life.”  It’s “your life or your life.”

While having myeloma has forced me to sort of make peace with the Grim Reaper, I don’t want him/her knocking at my door anytime soon (or later for that matter).

I worry about what will be left undone.  One joke around our house, for example, is that I have these unread stacks of books and a passel of eBooks, and I’m not sure I could live long enough to read them all even if I didn’t have myeloma.

It’s things as simple as that – and much more serious and important ones.

The stories of those who have died make me wonder about what they were not able to finish.

On a more cheerful personal note.  I’m still hanging around and still able to do many things.  Well, I’m not allowed on ladders any more and I’m not allowed to use my chain saw either, but that’s okay.  I guess.

I’m not a “count your blessings” kind of guy.

But I do count my blessings.  Every day.

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In Memoriam:  Dr. Fred Shapiro died last month.  Although I was never a patient of his, I knew him. Dr. Shapiro was an open-minded and dedicated cancer doctor in the Albany, New York, area.  He started and ran at Albany Medical Center the only stem-cell transplant program we have around these parts.  When can­cer struck him five years ago, he commented that he never realized how much time it took to be a cancer patient.  (Isn’t that so true.)  He said he felt he became a better doctor because he now had the real per­spec­tive of a cancer patient.

Dr. Shapiro was a person of many talents and many interests – Renaissance man for sure.  One of his in­ter­ests was a salvage company he founded, which is in Albany and Los Angeles.  He acquired, or gath­ered, old things that others probably considered junk and turned them into "gold."  A number of res­tau­rants, for example, have his uniquely designed items – from chandeliers to tables – made from salvaged materials.

He did that with people – renewed and recovered those whom cancer had damaged.

The world is a bit poorer because of his passing.

You can read more, if you want, here:  Dr. Fred Shapiro dies. ^[1]