It’s one of the greatest opening lines ever penned. From his novel A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens tells us, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …” Set in London and Paris during the French Revolution, Dickens uses the differences between the two cities to paint contrasting portraits of life in extraor­di­nary times.

Through his characters’ experiences of fortune and misfortune, good and evil, life and death, destruction and resurrection, the reader comes to understand the world through dichotomy, or by seemingly opposite things. Through this contrast, the reader senses both the fragility of life as well as the immense gifts it offers.

I see dichotomy in the world today as well. Even as I write this column, I’ve experienced the moving di­chot­omy of life this week.

My husband Daniel and I celebrated our 12^th wedding anniversary. We enjoyed a music-filled, candlelit dinner date. Later that weekend we spent Father’s Day with family, and we shared encouraging news from the ASCO 2016 multiple myeloma abstracts recently posted on the Beacon. That night Cleveland fans welcomed home the city's first national sports championship in more than 50 years. It was the best of times.

It was also the worst of times. That week a shooter pledging alliance to extremists killed 49 people and wounded 53 others in an Orlando night club. Many young people died in the prime of their lives. Many multiple myeloma patients died as well. According to U.S. National Cancer Institute statistics, an estimated 12,650 people will die from multiple myeloma or myeloma-related complications in 2016. This means 34 people on average died from myeloma that day as well, leaving behind families and friends to grieve their loss. And if that weren’t bad enough, I personally know good friends struggling under the strain of lost jobs and failing marriages.

How surreal that so many life-affirming and life-destructing events could occur within the span of a few days? When you consider the way life can change so suddenly and without warning, why aren’t we all walking around with a deeper sense of it all? A deeper sense of something –anything – be it gravitas, thankfulness, anger, or the like. Yet many people in our midst seem to be oblivious to the best of times and the worst of times around them.

I suppose that the emphasis you place on these stories, and which of these events impacts you the most, is ultimately what shapes your world view.

I would imagine that multiple myeloma patients and their families wrestle with life’s dichotomies more than most. And it is something about our lives that consistently puzzles others.

The question I am asked the most often is, how do you live with the knowledge that Daniel may be one doctor's appointment away from chemotherapy or a stem cell transplant? Or, from the bolder, how do you handle knowing that he won’t likely stay in remission? What is it like to live on borrowed time? How do you cope with living with such uncertainty?

In response, I give them well-rehearsed answers that I can now say without fear of my voice breaking, but on the inside I wonder if they’re blind to the dichotomy in their own lives.

Perhaps they choose to turn away from the perils of air travel or the dangers of their morning commute. (Believe me, living in the 4^th most populated U.S. city, this is no small feat!)  Maybe these same folks feel safe in movie theaters or consider themselves far removed from their family history of heart problems or diabetes.

Or it could be that the worst of times is too unbearable for them to consider.

When Daniel was diagnosed in 2012 with smoldering myeloma, we began to live with an awareness that these were the best of times and the worst of times were yet to be. We could not escape what was staring us in the face. We could not be oblivious.

Therefore, we examined ourselves and our lives. It became unfathomable for us not to have appreciation for today and hope for tomorrow. We couldn’t escape from the knowledge that Daniel has a cancer multiplying inside him. We couldn’t ignore the impact that multiple myeloma has on patients and families, because we see it every two to three months when we visit his specialist at the cancer center. Of course we’ve been changed. How could we not?

What we can do is focus on the goodness that life has to offer. We are surrounded by beauty, and it seems a crime against nature to not enjoy it. Literature, music; a cool, summer day; sharing a laugh over dinner – are these not the moments in life to be treasured? Are these not the best of times?

Reveling in the good does not mean I hide from the bad. It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel, acknowledge, or even dread ‘the worse’ yet to come. But I will not let it darken the memories of what was and is good. If anything, the dark times only make the light ones seem brighter. Nor does it take away from my thankfulness that I am here, and we do not walk this road alone.

In truth, we do not have the blessing of ignorance. None of us do. The road before us contains many peaks and valleys, and therein lies the dichotomy of life. But it also offers a gift in return: awareness of its value.