It was during one of those insomnia-is-the-boss-of-me nights that I found myself flipping through channels on the television, trying not to get sucked into info­mercials pitching revolutionary new steak knives, miraculous space age teeth whiteners, or ultra-absorbent super sponges.

I eventually landed on a replay of a no-score soccer match between two English football clubs. I reasoned that the game’s back and forth would surely lull me to sleep. But then I heard this familiar song being belted out by rowdy Liverpool fans:

Walk on, walk on
With hope in your hearts
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

I don’t remember when I first heard the song “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” I do know that I was young.

Perhaps it was during a local stage production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s "Carousel," the song’s original home. Or it might have been when the 22-year-old Shirley Jones sang it in a rebroadcast of the 1956 film "Carousel" based on the hit Broadway musical.

Mind you, this was a young ingénue Shirley Jones, way before she became the hip matriarch of the Partridge Family.

Then there were a couple of dozen popular music artists – like Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, and Elvis Presley – who recorded cover versions of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” through the years.

No matter how I became an aficionado of the song, I found myself singing along with the crazed Liverpool throng at 3 a.m. I’ll never tell you if I began to tear up, though, so don’t ask. It was just my allergies.

The odd thing about the song is that it has intersected with my life several times.

As a freshman music major entering Virginia’s James Madison University, I was invited (read: required) to join the JMU Marching Royal Dukes, a 400-plus member ensemble renowned in collegiate band circles. It was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun.

At the end of each football game, the band would perform a special concert for fans, many of whom would not leave the stadium until after they heard – and accompanied us in full voice – the final strains of, you guessed it, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”

When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm, there's a golden sky
And the sweet, silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your hearts
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

I know that some of you are singing those words as you read them. Am I right?

Now, it was the Gerry and the Pacemakers recording that just happened to play over my car speakers as I raced to the hospital where my mother lay dying due to complications from multiple sclerosis. Why a song recorded in 1963 was playing on the pop music airwaves in 1987 I’ll never know. Maybe it was just for me.

Many of us listened to Jerry Lewis and his Muscular Dystrophy Association families sing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” at the end of every Labor Day MDA telethon. It was a tradition.

I suppose that it was inevitable that the song would cross into my myeloma world.

In late December of 2008, I was in Little Rock, Arkansas waiting to be called in to continue with my first round of induction treatment. Not feeling particularly well, I was anxious about not having my wife Karen by my side for the first time in my cancer journey.

She had traveled back to our home in Missouri to be with our then 11- and 5-year-old daughters, and to get back to her elementary school music teaching job. I knew that I was in the capable hands of my oldest brother – just one of several caregivers who would travel to Arkansas from time to time to relieve Karen and allow her to go back to our girls.

As I waited to be called in, I noticed that a gentleman was slowly making his way through the room as he greeted patients, caregivers, and clinic staff. He introduced himself as a volunteer hospital chaplain. The patient next to me shared that she didn’t have a caregiver with her that day, but that she wasn’t worried. “I never walk alone,” she said.

Her words hit me like a lightning bolt. I knew that she was most likely referring to her spiritual walk and not to the song. Frankly, I don’t remember what the chaplain and I talked about, but I do recall that the melody and words from my youth were once again stirring in my brain.

When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark

Multiple myeloma comes at us like a raging storm. Even the sturdiest among us, patient and caregiver alike, are susceptible to the physical and emotional battering that comes while dealing with the stress of fighting such a life-threatening illness.

I once wrote that multiple myeloma seems hell-bent on blotting out the very sun that shines on us. Light surrenders to darkness and shadows; clarity turns to confusion. Good health transforms to pain as hope wrestles with fear.

So what did I have to do to be able to walk on through the storm with my head held up high?

A good beginning for me was to talk about my feelings, even if I couldn’t succinctly articulate my thoughts. Dexamethasone helped me talk, and talk, don’t you know.

An oncology social worker once asked me if I felt isolated or alone, even when surrounded by lots of people. Do you long for the way things were before you were ill? Do you miss the person you used to be before multiple myeloma kidnapped you? Are you homesick for better times?

Uh, yes, yes, yes, and yes!

To my relief, after our chat, she pronounced me quite sick, but emotionally normal.

Of course, there are different paths through the many challenges for each of us, but a good start is by telling your caregivers, friends, and members of your medical team what it is that you are feeling and thinking. They aren’t mind readers – you have to tell them.

Find a social worker or a counselor who is trained to help you understand such things. Connect with other patients and caregivers acquainted with similar struggles. Concentrate on things or people that bring you joy and laughter and peace. Reach out and help someone else. If you pray, pray until you’re prayed out.

The list goes on.

While we can’t avoid the storm, it is important to remember that ‘walking on’ is an action born by a decision. Holding your head up high with courage and dignity is the product of making a decision.

Make the decision, myeloma warrior. Walk on through the storm. Hold your head up high.

Walk on, walk on
With hope in your hearts
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Note: “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from "Carousel," lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II, music by Richard Rodgers, © 1945 by Williamson Music.