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A Northwest Lens On Myeloma: The Pendulum Throws

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Published: May 29, 2019 11:00 am

One of the songs by Pearl Jam that I like a lot is "Pendulum," the seventh track on their 2013 album "Lightning Bolt." Here are the song's lyrics:

Can't know what's high, 'til you been down so low. The future's bright, lit up with nowhere to go.

To and fro the pendulum throws.

We are here and then we go, my shadow left me long ago. Understand what we don't know.

This might pass, this might last, this may grow. Easy come easy go, easy left me a long time ago.

Not only do I like this tune and highly rec­om­mend listening to it, but I also find the song’s content very appli­­cable to multiple myeloma.

The physical and emotional effects of multiple myeloma are not linear. There isn’t one starting point that directly moves to a finish point. Life with multiple myeloma is a pendulum, not an arrow. To and fro the pendulum throws.

With some diseases, a person feels sick, displays evident symp­toms, is treated, and recovers. For me, like many myeloma patients, I wasn’t sick, and I didn’t have any evident symp­toms of the disease. It was accidentally discovered, I was treated, which made me ill, and I im­proved. Even so, I never returned to my pre-diagnosis self. Others come to their diag­nosis very ill with many symp­toms, receive treat­ment, and im­prove.

Whatever our end state is fol­low­ing treat­ments, it isn’t static.

For most of us, myeloma will return, the pendulum throws, and we go through the back and forth of illness, treat­ment, and im­prove­ment. Sometimes multiple times. Even during times of remission, our health may move to and fro.

It can be discouraging to feel your health im­prove only to see it decline again. However, that is often the reality of living with this disease. It can be confusing and discouraging if you ex­pec­t a straight line be­tween diag­nosis, treat­ment, and re­cov­ery.

Emotionally, I was at my lowest the first few months after diag­nosis. The anxiety I felt was sometimes debilitating and often cut me off from the people and things I love the most. This extreme low, how­ever, taught me to appreciate and recog­nize the highs that followed.

Possibly my highest point in the last four years was our recent family trip to Disneyland. However, there have been many other high points since my diag­nosis that I appreciated more because of the low place I had come from. Can’t know what’s high, ‘til you’ve been down so low.

Within weeks of experiencing this joyful time, I had bouts of sadness and anxiety, mourning the possible loss of time with my grand­chil­dren, wife, and family. While I intellectually under­stand these feelings, and I’m fairly good at letting them pass, they emerge nonetheless, sometimes unexpectedly and deeply.

I’ve never returned to the lowest point I felt after diag­nosis, but I know it can hap­pen again with a relapse or future treat­ment failure. Certainly, I swing back to sadness and depression with some frequency, even as my physical health con­tinues to move in a pos­i­tive direction. The highs may not always be as good as before, and the lows are not as bad, but like a pendulum, to and fro, the feelings change.

After my diag­nosis, I recog­nized how low I had fallen, and I sought professional counseling. I have friends and family to turn to, but having someone to whom I can say any­thing was im­por­tant. I didn’t have to con­sider whether sharing my feelings would scare him, make him sad, or make him judge me. Those con­sid­er­a­tions are always present when I talk to friends and family. It helped immensely, and I use the lessons I learned to help me past moments of anxiety that visit me now and then.

My counselor retired in August 2018 and, because I was feeling well, I didn’t look for a new counselor to con­tinue my sessions. Since that time, how­ever, I’ve realized how much I appreciated talking to him, even when I was in good spirits, and how it kept me stable. I realize now the importance of those conversations, and I’ve found a new counselor to help me main­tain my bal­ance.

Living with multiple myeloma isn’t easy. Understanding myeloma can chal­lenge the experts; it’s even more mysterious to non-medically trained patients. The variety of treat­ments avail­able give us many options, but it also makes the de­ci­sions dif­fi­cult. Enduring the changes in our health and emotions is tiring. Easy left me a long time ago.

The one truth about multiple myeloma is that we don’t know exactly what our future holds. We have ideas, good and bad, but what do we know for sure?

My doctors can prepare me for what may hap­pen in the years ahead, but there is no certainty in any prediction. This might pass, this might last, this may grow.

───────────────── ♦ ─────────────────

Mark's Photo For The Month

“The future’s bright, lit up with no where to go.”

Sunset by a pier

Click on image to view a larger version of it.

Photo copyright © 2014 Mark Pouley.

Mark Pouley is a multiple myeloma patient and columnist here at The Myeloma Beacon. His column is pub­lished once a month. You can view a list of his columns here.

If you are interested in writing a regular column for The Myeloma Beacon, please contact the Beacon team at .

Photo of Mark Pouley, monthly columnist at The Myeloma Beacon.
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9 Comments »

  • Sylvia said:

    Thanks, Mark, for the beautiful article and photo. Yes, I agree, what is certain is the uncertainty of this disease. When I look at the photo and see the sun shining on the water, I think about the possibilities, the unlimited opportunities we, as patients, have as we go through treatment and our lives. For me, the light is the strongest aspect in the photo. It helps me to think about and to focus on that.

  • Susan Mandel said:

    Thanks, as always, for your personal and candid thoughts. Counseling is such a great thing. I'm thinking of finding a counselor for myself. And your picture this time is absolutely stunning.

  • April D Nelson said:

    "Living with multiple myeloma isn't easy." True that!

  • Rebecca Boivin said:

    Beautiful picture, beautiful reflection. My journey has been similar to yours and your musings validate mine. I also find seeing a counselor invaluable. She is leaving practice in June and is helping me to find another. Best of all to you Mark.

  • Nancy Shamanna said:

    Thanks Mark, for the artistic column. I listened to 'Pendulum' by Pearl Jam and it is haunting, and has good vocals and percussion! Your photo encompasses the centre of the spectrum, from yellow to blue (from ROYGBIV) and is really lovely! I hope that you can find some peace with the myeloma reality, and not have such swings of the pendulum. It is a bit surreal at times, that is for sure!

  • Terry Moraa said:

    Thank you, Mark. This is such a beautiful article. And the lyrics to the song 'Pendulum'are certainly poignant. Living with multiple myeloma is not easy, and I saw it with my dad. Life with multiple myeloma is like a pendulum, moving back and forth; sometimes high, and sometimes low. You never know what comes next.
    Having a counselor certainly helps a lot. Sharing your feelings without holding back is a necessary therapy. Depression is a set back with such a big battle, and never far from the patient.

    Sending love and light to all the myeloma warriors out there.

    "This might pass, this might last, this may grow."

  • Susan S. said:

    Mark, thank you for your thoughts. " Easy left me a long time ago" sums it up for a lot of folks. I too was diagnosed completely by accident. The blood test results were even sent to the wrong doctor, who himself called me and urged me to follow up. I was advised to hold off treatment by my myeloma specialist since my disease appeared to be stable and there was no organ involvement, etc. I have been very fortunate, it had been quiet without progressing. Later had a successful mastectomy with some surgical complications, but returned to full arm use and kayaking, and up to this spring had been holding steady. So now the story is changing, and I have a discussion with myself pretty much daily since the myeloma is progressing and treatment has been predicted to be needed after all. I try to keep a couple of phrases in mind when I see myself gathering speed for another rush of anxiety. The most effective one is not from my mind but from the thoughts of Thich Nhat Hanh: "If you are here for life, life will be here for you." Helps me through my tangle of thoughts. Helps keeps my eyes open to beauty, like your photo.

  • Bob W said:

    Great article Mark! I always enjoy reading your columns...thank you!

  • Tabitha Burns said:

    Thank you for another great column, Mark! Your words really spoke to me: "Life with multiple myeloma is a pendulum, not an arrow."

    "Easy left me a long time ago," as well. Like the weeping willow that learns to bend in the midst of a storm (and not break), I hope that I, too, can get better at adapting to the many swings that myeloma brings. Thank you again for such a thought-provoking column!