Sean’s Burgundy Thread: Answers To The Name "Lucky"
While basking in the afterglow of a recent gazillion-course United Methodist pot luck supper, one of my very favorite church ladies sauntered over and confided in me that one of her elderly friends back in Iowa had been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.
As we talked about how her friend was dealing with his formidable challenges and I shared about the frustrations that I was facing, she caught me totally off guard when she said:
"You know, all in all, you should thank your lucky stars that you came down with myeloma when you were young and strong and able to put up a good fight."
Lucky? I’d never really equated having multiple myeloma with anything close to being lucky.
Frankly, I would have felt luckier if I’d had another 30 or so years under my belt before myeloma started beating me up.
Before I could begin to voice my opinion, she asked me if I remembered the old cornpone television show, "Hee Haw," and how Roy Clark, Archie Campbell, and others would humorously lament in song about life’s woeful miseries.
I had to laugh when she suggested that I’d fit right in with those boys. Their hard luck verses were always followed by the same chorus:
Gloom, despair, and agony on me
Deep, dark depression, excessive misery
If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all
Gloom, despair, and agony on me
I laughed, she was right. I could hang with those guys. Now THAT was a tune a myeloma patient like me could croon with some real conviction. I’ll bet that some of you even sang it out loud just now.
For some reason her choice of the word ‘lucky’ struck a chord in me. I countered her example with this oldie-but-goodie:
LOST: Mature, gray, runaway male dog. Missing leg, walks with limp. Blind in one eye, nearly deaf. Matted fur, ear mangled in a dog fight. Tail paralyzed in car accident, drags on ground. Answers to the name "Lucky."
There have certainly been days in my seven-year myeloma journey when I felt like that Lucky Dog. I know that there were times when I wanted to run away from it all.
So, I got to thinking. Am I lucky even though I live with multiple myeloma?
Well, some myeloma patients struggled for a long time to receive a meaningful diagnosis. From the day that I first complained to my small town family doctor about my backache to the day that I found myself being examined by a renowned myeloma specialist in another state, only one week had passed. I suppose that that could be considered lucky.
Our small hospital had very few imaging machines. The MRI and CT scanners were normally booked solid. When my local doctor stepped out of the room to check on the availability of the equipment, he shuffled back in, scratched his chin, and said "This never happens, but both machines are open right now. This must be your lucky day."
On the first day of the complete diagnostic workup at the major myeloma center I chose for treatment, the physician overseeing the MRI unit all but demanded that I be admitted to the hospital without delay. He explained, in glorious detail, that my excruciating back pain was due to collapsed vertebrae and that unstable shards of bone and tumors were pressing directly on the thecal sac surrounding my spinal cord. No wonder aspirin didn’t help.
Had I fallen in my weakened state and injured myself, paralysis could have been a very real possibility. I learned that the patient in the room next to me on the myeloma ward had suffered that unfortunate outcome.
And before I decided to visit with my family doctor, I was scheduled to see a friend’s massage therapist to help remedy the pain from what I thought was a pinched nerve or a pulled muscle. I was disappointed when the session had been cancelled because the therapist was under the weather. Her feeling puny that afternoon may have been a major stroke of good luck for me. Who knows what could have happened?
I spent 10 months in Little Rock, Arkansas, being treated for myeloma, during which time I was able to come back home for a couple of brief visits. On one break I developed a respiratory infection and went in to meet with my new local family doctor.
When she learned that I was being treated for myeloma, I was quickly sent to the large regional medical center an hour away from home to be seen by her father, a prominent emergency room physician and infectious disease specialist. The kicker was that they had a family member dealing with myeloma and they knew how important timely treatment was to combat what turned out to be my first case of pneumonia. Again, I was one rather lucky patient.
Like the rest of us, I could rightfully complain about our lot in life. But I could also go on and on about how lucky, how fortunate, how blessed I’ve been in big and small ways these last few years.
I’m lucky to have a wife who lived up to her vows to stay with me "in sickness and in health" even when she was afraid and overwhelmed.
I have friends and family who dropped everything to be at my side when I needed them.
The drugs that have successfully kept me in remission for several years were little more than seeds of brilliant ideas in the minds of researchers not too many years ago.
Sometimes you have to dig and scrape and squint to see just how lucky you are in the middle of a storm. It’s a mindset to look for those moments, to appreciate those things. Try it. You might be surprised by what you’ll find.
And how lucky am I that a little old church lady knew exactly what buttons to push when she prodded me into counting my lucky stars?
FOUND: Mature, gray haired, middle aged man with multiple myeloma. Blind without his glasses. A bit deaf from making loud music. Numbness in hands and feet. Sometimes fatigued, experiences bone pain from fractures. Answers to the name "Lucky."
Sean Murray is a multiple myeloma patient and columnist at The Myeloma Beacon. You can view a list of his columns here.
If you are interested in writing a regular column to be published by The Myeloma Beacon, please contact the Beacon team at .
Really, surprizingly, lovely artical Sean. Continued good luck to you my friend. Is 41;10
Damn, I must be real lucky at 39. Lol
Sean, This is one of the most endearing stories I have read. Such good, warm thoughts (and perfectly written, too).
There is always much to be thankful for in every situation. I've found I can easily despair by focusing on the dark side, which is exactly how the dark side wins. After the tough first days of my wife's diagnosis, I decided to try and turn the lemons into lemonade by focusing on my faith, reaching out to friends, researching the disease, and helping my wife. Over the last 18 months I've come to appreciate the moment. Life is full of pain and loss. We can really end-up having a wonderful life if we can turn the dark moments into victories by turning lemons into lemonade. This is clearly what you have done as evidenced by your writing.
Great as always Sean!
Bravo Sean!!! Well said!! I now, more than before, feel so very lucky. Thank you.
Sean, you are not 'lucky' in the sense of having a life without dealing with myeloma. However, we readers ARE lucky in that you write such funny, inspirational columns for us to read over. Thanks so much for that! I have been enjoying reading your work for five years now.
Your humorous lament reminded me of another song from my childhood days. I had to really think to remember this one.....
"I hear tell you're doing swell,
Good things just come to you.
I wish I had your good luck charm,
And you had to do like I do, Like I do , Like I do!!"
(Just kidding, since I am doing fine now, but it was a really popular song!)
I can relate to this article. Like you I was hospitalized due to compression fractures in my back at diagnosis. Back when I was doing my induction therapy 5 years ago, a fellow patient probably in her late 60's or early 70's commented on how fortunate I was to be diagnosed at an early age. Next time I was in I was talking with the caregiver of an older patient that was experiencing a difficult relapse. When I was discussing with her my future therapy plans she commented how fortunate I was that I had a chance to be cured of my disease. While driving in for my next round of induction I remember thinking if anyone was going to tell me how fortunate I was to be diagnosed with myeloma at a young age! Now I know how wise both of those older patient/caregiver was.
"The drugs that have successfully kept me in remission for several years were little more than seeds of brilliant ideas in the minds of researchers not too many years ago."
You could only imagine how fortunate I feel that a total stranger was willing to undergo a battery of tests and donate her immune system to me for no financial gain. Talk about a benefit from being diagnosed with myeloma - I got to meet and become friends with such a special person.
Sean,
A great column, as usual, and one that gives those of us afflicted with this disease a rare opportunity to laugh despite how dismal our condition may be. Like you, I've never really equated having multiple myeloma with anything close to being lucky. Your column reminds us and gives us hope that good things are on the horizon for treating and eventually curing multiple myeloma.
Hi Sean,
I really enjoyed your column! I've said a number of times to my family and friends that I do feel lucky with multiple myeloma. After drawing the "short straw," I've had much to be thankful for. A very early diagnosis, great treatment in Arkansas with excellent results, few serious side effects, and many new friends.
I relate "being lucky" to having a good attitude about life in general. I feel this is much easier when you take ownership of your maladies. Despair can result from not being actively involved in your treatment and the progress being made towards curing multiple myeloma.
My wife often comments when she sees me at my computer going over multiple myeloma stuff "aren't you dwelling too much in that world?" She has a point, however; there is a balance. Knowledge of the advancements in multiple myeloma therapy is a positive reinforcement that I have a future, that I'll continue to be "lucky" so to speak. As my nurse at UAMS said "live your life, not your cancer". A very wise woman!
My husband has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma and he is 50. He lost his whole family when he was only 8 so this was another terrible blow. I am like your wife im in it in sickness and in health but i am greatly over whelmed. Thank you for writing this article. It made me cry but in a good way for a change
I love this! I try to find the blessings in everything and I'm constantly feeling lucky I was diagnosed early. I am leading a pretty normal life right now and know it could be so much worse. So, yes, you can feel lucky!
"Gloom, despair, and agony on me" made me laugh out loud. I do remember the little skits and the guys all in a row. But the other advice to "live your life, not your cancer" was so good to hear. We have to get to a point long past the induction and/or stem cell therapies before the gloom, despair, and agony rise and disappear like a mist.
Your article is very well written. There were so many instances where fate or a guardian angel has interceded and opened a door for you. Your long term prognosis has been greatly improved due to those events. Lucky is a good description. I guess I would be buying a lottery ticket.
Marcia
Keep on seeing the lucky side, Sean. Mostly, I agree with you.
Though it brings back a memory of a hospital waiting room, and a woman nearby complaining about her husband's bad luck because he was deemed too old for a stem cell transplant. Oh what I would give, to live to be too old.
Dear Sean,
Your writing is brilliant as usual. It helps all of us to evaluate each event in different, positive angle.
You may remember meeting me and my daughter Lina in Little Rock. Lina is doing well.
Thank you very much,
Valentina
Hi Lucky Dog
We took a little break from the multiple myeloma journey. Silly? Yours is the first article in the Beacon that we have read in two weeks. We left Houston and MD Anderson three weeks ago on Day 30 following my husband's stem cell transplant. Today he is D+54 and we have felt "normal" for a few weeks.
I think you hit a nerve when you proposed that somehow there might be a sense of lucky even closely related to multiple myeloma. But you are correct. By now most of us have heard the horror stories of misdiagnosis and mistreatment. My husband has been lucky like you. Although he went nine months between the first symptom and diagnosis, once the diagnosis was made he received treatment quickly as well as aggressive treatment.
I don't think my husband would ever believe that he is lucky because he has multiple myeloma but it was diagnosed after he retired, we did "find" MD Anderson, and we did have adequate medical insurance. I think like you, we should thank our lucky stars!
It is a banal fact that most of us are within 100 feet of a child with cancer whenever we feel down about our medical prognosis. After my spine collapsed and I was diagnosed with "some kind of cancer", I was in a bed opposite a young lady who was dying for the want of a kidney.
If we do not stop to think of those less fortunate than ourselves, we shall never understand how lucky we are.
Joy is fleeting and sensational. Do not miss out on the glory of creation because fear and pain threaten to dominate your spirit.