So, you have multiple myeloma.

Okay, let’s read that again. You and I have multiple myeloma. Cancer. Or, as I have heard it described, "The Big C". ("The Big C" in my childhood referred to the logo on a Cleveland Indians baseball cap; my, times have changed.)

Wow. Who would have thought or imagined?

Looking back over the first few years of a “having-cancer” life, I had to first ac­cept reality to move beyond that initial shock / surprise / desire to not believe it was true. I had to ac­cept having multiple myeloma, and in a healthy perspective, ac­cepting multiple myeloma was no dif­fer­en­t than ac­cepting that I am left-handed. I had to ac­cept that having multiple myeloma is a new part of my destiny. It is a part of who I am.

Most often, the ease in ac­cepting our destiny is proportional to the perception of the benefits that we asso­ci­ate with a particular situation. Initially, I believed that “cancer” and “benefits” were mutually ex­clu­sive. It was preposterous to ac­cept that having cancer could have benefits. It was extremely dif­fi­cult for me to ac­cept the idea that some benefit could be realized from finding myself in such an untenable situation.

So, what to do?

Again, for me, ac­cepting my destiny was critical. Once I was able to ac­cept my destiny, I was able to look around and decide in a limited sense what would or could hap­pen next. What could be my goals for this day or each day moving for­ward, knowing of course that there are no guar­an­tees? How was I going to move for­ward and accomplish these goals?

I really needed to organize my head and also my heart to face my destiny.

I made a list of what I wanted in my new life moving for­ward. I identified some components of both my heart and my head that I wanted to use and have. Those in­cluded calmness, ac­ceptance, value in my actions, enjoyment, kindness, and rela­tion­ships.

In organizing myself to face my new reality, I tried to define my life within a framework built upon not what someone else told me cancer was like, or what multiple myeloma was going to provide or take away. Rather, I needed to define my reality – my existence – in a manner con­sis­tent with how I wanted to implement calmness, ac­ceptance, value in my actions, and such into my left-handed, gray-haired, “cancer-having” life.

My wife gets on me sometimes because, when we are trying to decide on a restaurant for dinner, I often list the restaurants that I do not want to visit. Where I want to go seems less im­por­tant than where I do NOT want to go (weird, I know, and maddening for my wife). Thus, it is not all that surprising that when I tried to define how I wanted to live this new “cancer-having” life,  I initially focused on what I wanted to avoid as opposed to what I wanted to bring or take on.

I am not going to list all that I wanted to avoid; the list is way too long and ever changing. And, of course, there is no reason to list all of my wants or desires for what today or tomorrow can bring. Each of us has our own list. Creating the list is an inside job that requires attention and evaluation every single day.

Personally, I believe that having multiple myeloma does not mean con­stant seriousness and agony. It does not mean an absence of laughter or gratefulness. It does not mean endless hand-wringing and anxiety. It does not mean that I need to stop having fun or that I need to stop trying so that I am forced to settle for less than what I would like. Besides, oftentimes, it’s the trying that is so rewarding.

It also does not mean carefree bliss, or a con­sis­tent “la-de-da, isn’t life grand and aren’t I lucky” outlook. Those who are around me on a routine basis will tell you that I am not pos­i­tive all of the time and that at times I can be a real pain in the neck. It does not mean I enjoy or desire pain or more frustration. I cannot help but be somewhat con­cerned about the future even though I know that all I have is the now. (It is so much easier to be pos­i­tive when those pesky blood "numbers" look good.)

It is a work in progress. It requires attention to my heart. I work at limiting the attention given to the con­stant noise that often accompanies life in both the left-hand and right-hand lanes of this journey’s highway. (The left-hand lane is when I'm on steroids; the right-hand lane is when fatigue overtakes me.)

Having multiple myeloma means whatever you want it to mean. We do not have to use what others say or think to choreograph what our life will look like moving for­ward.

It is our destiny, and we consent to de­ci­sions as we move for­ward.