When you’re looking for wisdom, it’s hard to beat the tried and true lyrics from the jazz standards. One such standard was recorded by Ella Fitzgerald (among others), and it’s called, “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive.” The song begins with this advice:

You got to ac-cent-tchu-ate the pos­i­tive; E-lim-i-nate the neg­a­tive; And latch on to the affirmative; Don't mess with mister inbetween.

You got to spread joy up to the maximum; Bring gloom down to the minimum; Have faith, or pandemonium; Liable to walk upon the scene.

There are lots of everyday hassles and stresses that go along with cancer treat­ment, not to mention the “big picture stuff” like treat­ment ineffectivenewss, relapse, and confronting your own mortality. It can be very hard to keep things in perspective. Lately, I‘ve been struggling a little in that department. The mixed results and the issues asso­ci­ated with my husband Dan’s treat­ment have been a chal­lenge at times for us both.

I was listening to this song recently, though, and it reminded me of the old adage, “If you haven’t got any­thing nice to say, don’t say any­thing at all.” My Mammaw used to say that all the time, and while it usually was directed at my sister and me when we were bickering over who was annoying whom in the backseat of the car, she was right.

Don’t get me wrong, there are times when we need to speak up. If Dan is not receiving the care he needs, I don’t hesitate to advocate for him and ensure that his journey isn’t any harder than it has to be. There are also times when I need to vent: times when the emotional strain of biweekly trips to the cancer center, demanding work deadlines, recurring myeloma-related illnesses, and our busy personal life is too much to bear. In those rare moments, I know that if I speak to a trusted confidant, I can say what I need to say and move on, so that I can be the best care­giver for my husband that I can be.

In general, how­ever, we could all do with a little more positivity. It’s said that what you focus on be­comes your reality. This is true for me. It’s so easy to dread appoint­ment days, treat­ment sessions where you can ex­pec­t to wait three hours past your appoint­ment time, or the nurse blowing two in­tra­venous lines before they finally find a good vein. The point is, though, that dreading these days cannot change them, nor can it help either of us deal with them better.

Plus, things like negativity, worry, and frustration are infectious. Have you ever noticed how easy it is to feed off of someone else’s mood? Dan and I have been together long enough now that we feed off of each other’s emotions. The quickest way for me to make our treat­ment day harder than it has to be is for me to share my fears and frustrations with Dan. As a care­giver, I don’t want to do any­thing that in­creases his stress.

But, we live in the real world. It’s hard to turn off these feelings and frustrations, especially in the face of real issues that are outside our control.

The chal­lenge is how do you keep pos­i­tive in situations where your partner isn’t. Or in situations where there isn’t a lot to be happy about.

The key, I believe, is to identify your triggers and try to mitigate them as much as possible. For example, the waiting around at the cancer center can be dif­fi­cult. We both try to bring our work to be as prod­uctive as we can be. We always take time to eat breakfast in be­tween his labs and his treat­ment appoint­ment, since it takes at least an hour for them to process the labs before they call him back anyway. I always bring a bag with extra clothes, med­i­ca­tions, music, earbuds, batteries and charge chords, and snacks with us to the cancer center as well. We know how im­por­tant it is to be prepared. Anything can hap­pen in the course of treat­ment, so we try to make the day as comfortable for us as possible.

It's also im­por­tant to de­ter­mine what makes you happy, and try to do more of that. Recently, my husband gave me a spa day ex­peri­ence for my birthday. I had a manicure and pedicure, and I enjoyed a hot stone massage. I spent half an hour in some­thing called a “tranquility room.” Wrapped up in my soft and downy robe, I cuddled up on a couch in front of the fireplace in a low-lit room with soft music playing, and I slept. Soundly. I had no idea how badly I needed that day. It was a day all about me, a day where others cared for my needs. And while I didn’t realize how badly I needed it, I am so thankful that my husband did. Rolling for­ward, I am committing to taking more time for myself. It will benefit me and my husband if I am the best person that I can be for him.

It’s not easy to be in a pos­i­tive frame of mind when you or your loved one is being treated for multiple myeloma, but when you think about the mental and physical toll that you’re adding to your cancer journey, it costs a lot more to be neg­a­tive. We need to find a better way of living with multiple myeloma, and for me, I believe that the path lies with endeavoring to be more pos­i­tive, identifying and reducing our triggers, and finding time to care for myself as well as my husband.

At home we have a sign that reads: “The time to be happy is now.”

And so it is.