No two ways about it. I wasn’t smiling.

You’d think that, after having endured the kind of challenges that we multiple myeloma patients face during our illnesses, I would have learned not to sweat the little inconveniences that life seems to relish throwing my way.

You’d think that, but I can recall an out-of-state trip for a myeloma checkup five years ago during which I greatly overestimated my ability to ‘go with the flow.’

On the busy first day of an evaluation, there is usually a full dance card of imaging scans, blood work and urine tests, bone biopsies and bone marrow aspirations, paperwork to be completed, and meetings with various staff members.

Most of the time, the intricate plan of events comes off without a hitch. So, even though this particular trip in the summer of 2010 was the first time I would run the gauntlet without my wife by my side, I wasn’t too worried.

My earliest procedure that day ran late because of an equipment problem, which, in turn, caused me to be late for my next appointment. For various reasons, the day quickly got out of sync.

When I couldn’t find the prescription for the pre-meds for my bone biopsy, I knew that I wouldn’t have the time to go to the myeloma office to get the script rewritten and then beeline over to the hospital pharmacy to wait in that line.

At that point in my health situation, running anywhere with my aching bones wasn’t in my bag of tricks. My nose, however, decided that running wasn’t too much trouble for it; the constant drip, drip, dripping drove me crazy that day – especially during the ‘I must not cough or drown in snot’ PET scan and MRI sessions.

For the biopsy, I decided to trust that the technicians would artfully extract those little pieces of bone and bone marrow samples from my hip with just lidocaine shots, and that I would get through the biopsy without too much discomfort. Fortunately, I hadn’t overestimated their talents.

Then out of the blue, there was a message informing me that my insurance company had denied coverage for a procedure that they normally allowed. I’d been down this road a time or two before, so I went ahead with the scan knowing that I would fight with them – I mean, "reason with them" – later.

I don’t know where I’d be without my insurance company’s help, but sometimes they sure have lousy timing.

In all, the day was sort of like taking a mad dash through an airport only to learn that the gate had changed at the last minute. But, unlike connecting at the right gate to embark on a trip to an exciting locale, a successful myeloma dash rewards you with someone either sticking you with something sharp or sticking you into a strange tube that neither serves peanuts nor whisks you away to a sunny tropical beach. No frequent scanner miles either.

Oh, I wasn’t blameless in the scenario. I forgot to bring my new insurance card, to the dismay of the folks at the check-in desk. And when I was getting my blood work done, the tech asked for my 24-hour urine collection. Darn it! I had left it in my car.

It made me even grumpier to have to take the I-forgot-my-orange-jug-in-the-car walk of shame all the way down to the end of the parking garage. Of course, sitting next to the paper grocery sack was the envelope with my new insurance card and my pre-med prescription.

I’m glad that my wife Karen wasn’t there to see my failings. If she had been, no doubt things would have gone smoothly. I pushed on.

As I was sitting there at 7 p.m., waiting to be called in for the very last test of a long, exasperating day, an older couple walked into the room and sat down near me. I have met the most interesting people in myeloma waiting rooms, but at that moment I wasn’t up for much chit-chat.

As I sat there praying that the procedure would not only go well, but that it would actually happen, the gentleman said “Whatcha reading there?”

I wasn’t sure who he was talking to at first, but I looked up and astutely observed that he was staring right at me, and there was no one else waiting. I answered “It’s a biography of the actor Charlie Chaplin.”

“Charlie Chaplin! I love Chaplin. Didja know that he was also wrote music?”

The fact was that I did know that Chaplin, among many other things, was a musician and a composer. While he couldn’t write or read music, he collaborated with accomplished composers on the musical scores for many of his films.

Almost before I could answer, the man began singing in a soft, lyrical voice:

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking.
When there are clouds in the sky
you'll get by.

If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through
For you.

Light up your face with gladness,
Hide every trace of sadness.
Although a tear may be ever so near

That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying.
You'll find that life is still worthwhile -
If you just smile.*

How on earth did that kindly, friendly gentleman know that "Smile" was perhaps my favorite song of all time?

Chaplin composed the music for his 1936 film Modern Times, and lyricists John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons penned the haunting words nearly two decades later. Nat King Cole’s 1954 recorded version is forever imprinted on my mind.

The couple’s presence was an unexpected gift. With the way that the husband lovingly sang into his wife’s eyes, I knew that he believed every word. I had no idea what challenges they were facing, but I knew that together they would get through the fear and sorrow.

I smiled at them. I smiled thinking about Karen. It was a good day after all.

*"Smile" (Music Chaplin / Lyrics Turner and Parsons) ©Copyright 1954 by Bourne Co.