Sean’s Burgundy Thread: Blue Skies
It was an unseasonably cool summer morning back in July of 2010, and I had ventured out to get the early delivery from my mailbox up at the corner of the street in our small Missouri town.
When I stepped onto the surprisingly slick, dew-covered lawn, my legs shot out from under me, my arms flailed wildly, and my ball cap and glasses went flying helter-skelter. I landed on my back with a deafening thud which surely must have measured on somebody’s Richter scale somewhere.
Although I was probably quite the comical sight, I wasn’t laughing. My three big dogs, however, were wagging their tails and barking up a storm on the other side of the long picture windows. It doesn’t take much to amuse them.
As I lay motionless in the damp grass, eyes closed, I slowly began to take stock of my situation. The rather klutzy fall had knocked the air out of my lungs, but I was able to catch my breath after a few moments.
I wiggled my toes and fingers and carefully turned my neck side to side a couple of times. My head didn’t fall off. That was a good thing.
My ribs and back hurt, but they always hurt to some degree because of what multiple myeloma had done to my bones. I hoped that the kyphoplasties to repair damage to a couple of my thoracic vertebrae hadn’t been undermined by the violent run-in with Mr. Gravity. It didn’t feel like I’d fractured anything new.
I gradually opened my eyes and was startled that everything was fuzzy. Had I hit my head? Was this a concussion? Then I realized that my glasses had jumped ship. Duh, I was cursed with myeloma and myopia.
Without getting up, I swept my arms like a dew angel and found my spectacles which – to my great relief – were unbroken.
I put the wire rims on and immediately noticed the brilliant blue, partly-cloudy Ozark's sky, the majesty of which I never grow tired. The leaves on the black oak and maple trees were rustling in the pleasant breeze, and I could hear the flag flapping in the wind on my front porch.
Now I would have much rather enjoyed the view from the comfort of my hammock, but I was happy that my vision and hearing seemed to be okay.
Then something caught my eye. I froze as I spied him sitting high up in the cedar tree at the edge of my yard. And then he yelled at me.
No, I’m not talking about my neighbor, One-Thumb Clabber. It was someone even more ornery than One-Thumb up in my tree. It was The Blue Jay.
Yep, it was that beautiful, but nasty, good-for-nothing blue jay who delighted in tormenting me with his mocking, jeering, condescending call. Just hearing him jarred me back to reality faster than any smelling salts ever could have.
He wasn’t just any blue jay. He was easily half a body’s length taller and much heavier than a regular bird. And he was mean. The Blue Jay and I had tangled before.
Blue jays are territorial and they like to dive bomb any poor creature foolish enough to invade their space. Apparently, my front yard happened to be included in his space.
While he always left everyone else alone, he seemed to take great glee in tormenting me whenever it suited him. One-Thumb, a card carrying member of the Audubon Society, insisted that according to the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, I could not dispatch said blue jay with my BB gun.
Thus his stalking continued.
As I stared into his beady eyes, I had cartoon visions of my looking like a huge, plump worm to him. A huge, plump, I’ve-fallen-and-I-can’t-get-up worm.
I've seen that Alfred Hitchcock movie. I knew what rogue, opportunistic birds were capable of doing. I figured that I’d better get moving before he commenced the swooping and pecking.
I cautiously lifted up my head first, mostly to see if One-Thumb was laughing at me. I was alone except for The Blue Jay. Oh, and a solitary chipmunk that curiously peeked out from behind a low wall of table rock.
I generally get along with chipmunks, but I could have sworn that this one was willing to join evil forces with the bird. I wondered what it would be like to be pounced upon by blue jays and chipmunks at the same time.
I had to get moving. I bent my knees and moved my feet closer to my hips. I stretched my back with great care and didn't feel anything crack or pop. Hugging my legs, I sat up and gingerly rose to my feet, all the while keeping my eyes on the monster.
I uttered a quick prayer to express my gratitude for having survived seemingly intact, said to heck with the mail, and turned to amble back inside.
That was when I saw its feathery shadow on my house and heard the flapping of wings and the smart-alecky call of the fiend. I risked falling again and quickly scooted across the dewy grass hoping that the dogs hadn’t figured how to lock me out. I made it inside in the nick of time.
As strange as it seems, that blue jay incident reminds me of my entire multiple myeloma experience. The disease blindsided me and knocked me off of my feet just like that slip and fall did.
There have been many instances through my seven years of going through chemotherapy, stem cell transplants, rounds of consolidation and maintenance, surgeries, blood clots, bouts of flu and pneumonia, infections, stretches of depression, neuropathy, and so much more, during which I had to make conscious decisions to get up and keep on going.
The Blue Jay is still there and the myeloma is still staring down at me. But I have decided that, as long as I am able, I will stand up to both of them.
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 .
Use the BB gun.
I'm with Eric, except I might suggest upgrading to a 22 cal.
Sean,
I can identify with your keen awareness of the beauty of God's world around us, as well as the evil birds in it.
Sean,
I love your hilarious depiction of your nemesis, The Blue Jay. Your story reminds me of the endless cartoon battle between Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. Despite the Coyote’s persistence, positivity, and use of many innovative materials, tools, maps, weapons etc. from the Acme company, he never quite manages to get the better of that pesky Road Runner. But … the Coyote never gives up and carries on for years and years in his quest to defeat the Road Runner. Persistence and positivity … two traits that myeloma patients need to be armed with in their battle with this disease; two traits that you seem to have in spades. And … I believe that Wile E. Coyote does finally capture the Road Runner in “Soup or Sonic”.
Sean,
Great column. It reminds all of us dealing with myeloma to keep getting up, brushing ourselves off, and make the most of our day. How can the bird be such a nice color of blue and still be so nasty?
What a delightful 'read'! Finding application to life in the everyday arena always gets my attention. It's memorable. This gives us a fun memory hook - when we see a blue jay, to remember the multiple myeloma journey is a continual challenge to "get up again" and carry on. Thanks!
What a delightful column Mr. Murray! In fact to call it just a column is injustice. Would rather call it a beautifully sketched allegory! Thank you for letting us see the world through your interesting gaze! Keep well, keep writing.
Sean,
As a fellow St. Louis Cardinals fan, I've never worried too much about the Blue Jays (sorry Toronto).
I'm glad I grew up ignorant and in a time before everything was photographed, recorded, and stored for future prosecution - because I'm pretty sure I violated the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 a time or two.
C
What a great story Sean! I always enjoy your columns. We have blue jays here sometimes, but they are a treat to see, and they are a bit north of their usual range I think. The bird I find to be more worrisome is the raven. There was a huge raven sitting atop a light post, cawing loudly, when I was walking yesterday! I have never been bothered by a raven though.
I thought this column was very good. Here in Texas, we have an additional terror bird - the mockingbird. It is the state bird, so it is also protected. I recently saw one chase a cat out of my yard, across the street, and into a bush. We also have blue jays who behave as you so aptly describe. As myeloma patients, we have to protect ourselves from many things – including birds. Have fun.
Great column, Sean! Glad you survived that encounter with the blue jay.
I liked KarenaD's comment a lot also. Like it did for her, your story reminds me of an old TV show. In my case it is my favorite episode of the "Dick Van Dyke Show" from when I was a kid. The son, Richie, was frightened to death to go outside because a woodpecker was attacking him. His father (Dick Van Dyke) told him to just suck it up, put on a pith helmet and sunglasses, and go out whether he wanted to or not.
Over time I've developed my own "pith helmet and sunglasses" to help me "stand up" against multiple myeloma.
Reading your column, getting a chuckle and a lesson each month from you is definitely part of my armor. Thanks!
Mike
Joyce,
There is a reason they call them mockingbirds! They can mimic other birds' calls, making them doubly troublesome.
Great column Sean!
Wonderful column, Sean. Brought a smile to my face, which I needed. That does not happen too often lately. Maybe the answer to the blue jay problem is a cat. My cats have gotten a few of them so far. I live in a wooded area and have quite a few birds, but the jays don't bother me. They eat the dry dog food I put out for the raccoons. All we can do is try to put a smile on our faces and hope in our hearts to get us through some of these rough periods. Thanks again for giving us the chuckle of the day.
Thank you, Sean, for making me smile the whole time I was reading about your surrealistic fall and vision! Hey, it was just a blue jay, not a vulture, haha!
I have not seen those birds since I left the States in 1990. I don't particularly miss them, but I miss the sight of the cardinal in the snow. However, I don't miss the freezing weather of Massachusetts winters.
My husband is a bird watcher and I lost count of all the feeders we have in our garden. The wild looking nuthatch comes to the closest one, and chases away a million blue tits. It is relaxing to watch them, you can predict what they will do and they comply, it makes you think that there is an order in this world after all!
Delightful story Sean!
We have the Steller jays and the Mexican jays here in New Mexico, and between the two of them we see and hear quite a show. What an apropos analogy for getting hit with a multiple myeloma diagnosis. The fact that you can recall the experience with such exquisite detail attests to the nature of your fall and to the shock of learning one has multiple myeloma. So glad you survived the fall and the encounter with the blue jay.
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