If you’ve been brave enough to spend your valuable time reading some of my prior Myeloma Beacon columns and you say to yourself ‘That guy isn’t right!,’ this column might just prove your point.

It occurred to me that in my busyness I haven’t properly thanked the many folks who’ve helped me during my multiple myeloma journey. If I actually had the discipline to write some thank you notes, the following is a sample of what they could look like:

Dear Brand New Phlebotomist,

After last week’s four painful pokes with what you described as a whole batch of ‘dull’ needles, I was overjoyed when your fifth attempt hit pay dirt. Please know that I will do my best to miss you as I must switch to another clinic two towns over for my monthly lab work. Should you move, kindly keep me ad­vised as to your exact whereabouts. THANK YOU so much and best of luck!

P.S. - I apologize for catapulting out of my chair and for blurting out those ugly words during the fourth stick. It must’ve been either the dexamethasone (Decadron) or my self-preservation kicking in.

Dear Carl,

When I slowly, painfully ambled up to the doors of the infusion center that very first time in 2008, I was scared, hurting, and determined to make it inside on my own. When you gently persuaded me to use a wheelchair, you not only protected my health, you also respected my dignity.  It is sometimes a hard thing to accept help, even when we need it the most. For your simple act of compassion, I will always THANK YOU!

Dear All,

THANK YOU for the cards, letters, care packages, e-mails, visits, casseroles, texts, social media out­reach, etc. while I have been sick these last several years. They, and you, have meant the world to me and my family.

And THANK YOU to all of my friends and colleagues who haven’t reached out to us these last seven years. You have helped me to trim down my Christmas card list.

Dear Insurance Provider,

THANK YOU for denying the request for an allogeneic (donor) stem cell transplant. As I explained to your perky representative who called me at 7 a.m., such a request was news to me. In fact, I was still recovering from my second autologous stem cell transplant at that time. I have since determined that neither my doctors, nor the hospital’s insurance department made such a request of you. In the future, should I need such a transplant, I will eagerly await your dream-dashing denial of coverage.

Dear Susie, Angie, Janice, Jodi, Sarah, and so many more,

THANK YOU for sharing your touching multiple myeloma caregiver stories and advice with us. Through the pain, struggle, and the ultimate loss of your dear loved ones, you still manage to encourage others in the myeloma community to keep on fighting. By your courageous example, I have the hope that should I pass, my wife and children will overcome their sadness to find peace and joy.

Dear Doctor,

When I was under the surgical drape being prepped for a central venous line placement, you and I ban­tered back and forth and we ended up laughing so hard that you began to cough. I asked if we were ‘still sterile’ and you replied ‘as if we were EVER sterile!’ After that laughter died down, you patted me on the arm and said ‘Thanks, I really needed that today. Ready to get started?’

As usual, the procedure went off without a hitch. That little exchange always reminds me that everyone, including nurses and doctors, can use a little lightheartedness in their day now and then. THANK YOU for the laughs and for all that you do.

Dear Dexamethasone,

THANK YOU for providing me with the boundless, unbridled energy to clean the kitchen at 3 a.m. and to adroitly bite the head off of anyone within earshot. Oh yeah, I almost forgot: THANK YOU for helping me to beat back myeloma, too.

Dear Doctors, Nurses and Researchers in the Trenches,

I can’t even begin to fathom your brilliance in matters so absolutely foreign to me. Try as I might, your mastery of chemistry and biology and other mysterious disciplines has allowed me to live with my family seven wonderful years after my diagnosis. Seven years is a BIG deal to me. THANK YOU! I may not know many of your names or your faces, but please know that my respect and gratitude for you is im­mense.

Dear Fellow Columnists, Publishers, and Myeloma Pundits,

My life is richer, better, and more informed because you continue to tell the stories and share the important news of what is happening out in Myelomaville. THANK YOU, friends, for inspiring me every day!

Dear Airline Passenger,

THANK YOU for noticing my mask and scrambling two seats away from me with a horrified, disgusted look on your face. You probably weren’t going to catch my multiple myeloma, but when your open-mouth sneeze sprayed the guy next to you directly in the face, I thought that maybe you should’ve worn the mask instead of me.

Dear Bart, Bijay, Saad, and Maurizio,

It’s true. I may grumble from time to time about my having to travel all the way down to Arkansas for multiple myeloma treatment, but knowing that you have sojourned from Germany, India, Pakistan, and Italy to help an ordinary guy like me, I am humbled and grateful. THANK YOU a million times over!

Dear Interventional Radiologist:

The pain from the multiple collapsed vertebrae I endured was almost unbearable. Your artful kypho­plasties may not have rescued me from myeloma, but they have certainly changed my life. I and my spine THANK YOU!

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I could fill my days thanking deserving people. While each of these thank you notes is based on actual events, some of them may have been presented a bit tongue-in-cheek. I wouldn’t really send them as is.

Or would I?

And as always, THANK YOU God for giving me yet another day.