Before I was diag­nosed with multiple myeloma, I don’t think I had ever really thought about the idea of an illness scale, with some illnesses being ‘higher’ on the scale than others. It is difficult to explain exactly what I mean, so I will start out with some examples.

If, for example, you had a cold, you’d probably agree that it would be much worse to have influenza. If you had a disease, or con­di­tion, that could be treated and cured, you would be likely to cope with it more easily than if you had a less easily treated disease or con­di­tion.

To take it a step further, if you had a cancer that can be treated and is unlikely to return, you might feel more fortunate than someone who has been diag­nosed with multiple myeloma. And finally, if you have multiple myeloma, you might feel more fortunate if you had favorable cyto­genetics and responded to treat­ment than someone whose prognosis and response to treat­ment was less good.

In my opinion, multiple myeloma is quite near the top of the illness scale, but definitely not at the very top. Actually, with all the new treat­ments that have been developed and approved in recent years, perhaps it has slipped down a little on the scale.

I don’t think I really ‘felt’ this scale much myself throughout my life. However, it was my myeloma diag­nosis that made me become much more aware of it. I found suddenly that friends and family saw me in a dif­­fer­en­t light. They were feeling, quite rightly, that the diag­nosis had put me up the scale, and that their own ailments seemed somewhat trivial and almost less worthy.

For example, I vividly remember a phone conversation with my older brother soon after my diag­nosis, during which I asked him how he was. He started to tell me that he had a terrible cold and was not feeling well. I sympathized and said that I hoped that he would feel better soon. He responded, “Marje, I don’t know why I am telling you this. What is wrong with me is so trivial, and it’s so ridiculous to even mention it when I think of what you are coping with.” I told him that I didn’t feel that way, but I know that he felt bad.

Similarly, a cousin visited me and told me that he had lost his sense of smell. We talked about this for a while, and then he said that he felt so stupid telling me this when it was ‘as of nothing’ in comparison to my myeloma. I, on the other hand, felt that his recent diag­nosis was a big deal, and I was interested to hear about it and very sorry that this had happened to him.

I have many other examples of similar conversations. I feel sorry that because I am so far ‘up’ the illness scale that my friends feel that they cannot tell me, or are embarrassed to tell me, about what is happening in the medical part of their lives.

Although I accept that I am fairly high up on the illness scale, I am also very aware that I am not at the top. Over the last few months, two of my friends have so sadly had terminal cancer diagnoses. They are right up there at the top, and already one has died.

Another very sad point of calibration occurred two years ago when my husband was diag­nosed with prostate cancer. It was awful, and he had a very tough time through diag­nosis and treat­ment. Again, I was aware that his cancer was seen as ‘not as bad’ as mine. Further down the scale. I do understand this, but I don’t like it. Someone who had only just heard of Graham’s diag­nosis said to me, “At least you are in it together.” I didn’t know what to say.

I guess it is quite true we are ‘in it’ together, and we are very fortunate to have each other. I hope that Graham can move down the scale, and I would very much like to slide down there with him.