In most editions of this column, I focus on lessons I have learned while dealing with multiple myeloma. My hope is that what I have learned will help others.

This month, however, I want to talk about a lesson I learned many years ago – a lesson that has been reinforced by what I have gone through since my myeloma diagnosis three years ago.

When I was a young man, before I had children, I was like many fresh-faced lawyers and other professionals – ambitious and focused on my career. I knew that long hours and dedication were necessary to get ahead, and I was only too happy to do what it took.

Then the little ones came along. It was not long before it dawned on me that every extra hour that I spent working was an hour taken away from family time. I realized something elementary, but which had eluded me to that point in my life.

Whether rich or poor, young or old, no matter our color or creed, we all have the same amount of time. Sixty minutes in every hour, 24 hours in every day, and seven days in each week. Regardless of the resources at your disposal, you cannot buy extra time. And once that minute is gone, it cannot be retrieved.

Once I began to appreciate this fundamental truth, it colored much of my decision making. Perhaps not surprisingly, it particularly affected decisions I made about my career. I turned down good jobs because the time commitment to do the job right would have taken away from my ability to spend time with my family.

Like most of us, when deciding what kind of parent I wanted to be, I examined my own childhood and determined to do things differently than my parents had done. My parents were kind and loving, but I felt that we could have spent more time doing family stuff.

So I thought of it like this: I could be very successful in my career – perhaps even a “star”, professionally speaking – but I chose instead to be the best dad I could be.

I did not attend every single kid’s event, but I made it to most of them – the away tennis matches, seemingly endless horse shows, piano recitals, and football games.

I often kidded myself that I was doing this for the kids – to support them – and that was true. But it was just as much for me. Those times are fleeting, and what you miss you can never get back.

We myeloma sufferers and our loved ones also care about time, but largely in the context of how much time we have left. We focus on “progression-free survival” and “overall survival.” Those time spans define how we are doing dealing with and beating this disease.

I would be last one to argue that survival times should not be an important focus of our battle.

But how we use the time we have, and the decisions we make in dealing with the disease, can be just as important.

One of the most obvious applications of this is the decision regarding continuing to work. For some, there is no choice to be made. The effects of the disease can be debilitating such that continuing to work is not an option. In other instances, money is tight, so despite the diagnosis, continuing to work is necessary simply to pay the bills or continue to be eligible for health insurance.

Some, however, are fortunate enough to have a choice.

In my case, before my diagnosis I was toying with the idea of retiring several years down the road. After I learned that I had multiple myeloma, I was determined to retire once I had finished my initial treatment and recovered from my transplant.

I worked in a political environment in a position that was vulnerable to changes in the administration, so when a new governor was elected, it seemed like a good time to get out. The new folks tempted me with an offer to stay on in a position more challenging that the one I was in at the time. I was not persuaded to change my plan.

I knew that my time was finite, both day-to-day and in the ultimate sense. It was more important to use the time I have to be with those I loved and to do the things that made me the happiest. (In the interest of full disclosure, I did take a part-time job, but the terms of that position do not require that I put in a pre-determined amount of time.)

The recognition that each day is precious can have implications for other decisions we myeloma folk have to make. For example, it may be that a particular treatment regimen or clinical trial would require that we be away from home often, or for long periods of time. Is that the right choice for our overall quality of life?

Of course, no one would argue that we should allow concerns about time to automatically override what is the best choice for dealing with our disease.

My point, though, is that consideration of how we parcel out our most precious and finite resource deserves to be an important component of every decision we make.

Time. Use it wisely, because you can never get it back.