At the end of my last column, I teased that one of the most positive out­growths of my myeloma diagnosis was that it fostered an unexpected reunion. This is that story.

I was sitting in my hospital room on a Sunday morning the day after I had been told that I likely had multiple myeloma. I remained hospitalized fol­lowing my Friday night / Saturday morning transfusion experience so that I could get a bone marrow biopsy first thing Monday morning.

My girlfriend (now fiancée) Audrey had gone home to shower and change, so I was alone when my phone rang. It was my former wife Deb.

Deb and I had separated about 11 years ago and had been divorced for about 9 years. During the inter­ven­ing time, we saw each other occasionally at family gatherings. Our re­la­tion­ship was cordial but not close – about normal for a divorced couple with older children.

Unbeknownst to me, this dynamic was about to change after Deb called that Sunday morning. We talked for a bit, and she told me that, about five years earlier, her father Al had also been diagnosed with multiple mye­loma. I knew that he had been ill and had suffered quite a bit from the side effects of some of the treat­ment, but I did not know the details. Deb asked if I would like her to visit that morning, and I readily agreed.

What followed during her visit was enlightening and a bit surreal. Deb told me how her father was diagnosed with myeloma following kidney failure, how he had done a stem cell transplant at the age of 75, and how much he had suffered from peripheral neurop­athy as a result of intravenous Velcade (bortezomib) treatment. She knew quite a bit about the disease, which was helpful because, at that point, I knew nothing other than it was incurable but treatable.

But, beyond the medical discussion, we talked about other things – things we had not talked about since we had separated. The kids and other family members. What had happened in our lives. How we were dealing with the present. Deb also mentioned that she thought that Al would love to see me.

About a month or two later, I went to visit Al and his wife Barb. It is hard to convey in words the atmosphere in Al’s den that day. In the face of my relatively recent diagnosis and his continued struggle with severe neuropathy and the fatigue from his treatment, we were all three, I dare say, happy.

We shared our experiences. I talked quite a bit about what I had learned about the disease and available treatments. We talked about family and the future. It was uplifting.

At the time, and increasingly afterwards, I was reminded me of how much I missed having a relationship with Al.

Shortly after Deb and I were married, my father passed away. From that point on, Al was my dad. I have never met a kinder and more generous man. He treated me like a son.

In the aftermath of the divorce and the walls that we put up to help us deal with the emotional fallout, I did not appreciate how I had lost this other connection as well. Now that it was rekindled, I appreciated again how important it was to me.

In the months that followed, I made an effort to swing by and pay Al a visit. I redesigned one of my bike routes and would pop in occasionally just to say “Hi.” It was always such a joy to me to see Al and Barb, and they seemed to enjoy it as well.

It also helped break down some of the barriers that Deb and I had erected through the years. She even came with Audrey and me to synagogue one Yom Kippur. We had Deb and her boyfriend to dinner at our house. All in all, good stuff.

My favorite holiday had always been Thanksgiving. I mean, it’s all about The Three F’s – Food, Football, and Family! What more could you ask for?

But one casualty of the divorce was that my kids spent Thanksgiving Day with Deb and her family and came to our house the following Saturday for a second dinner with Audrey and me, Audrey’s children, and other family members. It was good, but not quite the same.

That changed this past Thanksgiving.

Audrey and I went to Al and Barb’s house along with my daughter, her husband and two boys, my son and his wife, Deb and her boyfriend, Deb’s sister, brother-in-law and their two boys, and Deb’s brother and his son. And you know what? We all had such a great time. Deb’s family was so welcoming to Audrey and me. They treated us like family.

And it was especially heartwarming to see Al surrounded by his loved ones. He had not been doing well. The myeloma dragon was not being kind to him. But, for this one night, I could see that he was able to put it aside for a bit and just enjoy the chaos of a family get-together.

Sadly, Al passed away in early January at the age of 80. The disease, the treatments, and the unrelenting side effects of treatment had finally worn him down.

Again, the family – augmented by many friends – gathered for the funeral and three days of shiva. Shiva is a Jewish tradition in which friends and family gather at the home of the deceased to pray, talk, and, of course, eat. You gotta have the food!

Audrey and I spent the better part of those three days at the house. Again, we were treated and felt like family.

So here I am, once more marveling at what good can come out of being told that you have an incurable disease. Life changing events, like finding out you have cancer, set in motion a chain of events that produce results we could never have foreseen. Sometimes we get to experience wonderful things, like my surprise reuniting.

I am a realist. This myeloma thing we are struggling with is not sunshine and butterflies. It is a difficult challenge, causing us pain – mental as well as physical. And, at the end of the day, it is still incurable and, although treatable, not yet in the category of chronic illnesses that can be controlled indefinitely with a consensus course of treatment.

For now, though, while continuing to fight the battle on the medical front, I am going to continue to search for and embrace the opportunities that this bad thing has given me to make positive changes in my life and the lives of others.