The late great comedian George Carlin used to have a routine where he played a sportscaster doing the nightly sports report after having had one too many [you can fill in the blank]. About halfway through this routine, the loopy sportscaster would announce, “And here is a partial score from Yankee Stadium: New York 3.”

Huh? I chuckle when I think about that line because I believe that it so describes living with multiple myeloma.

Partial everything is how we live. Partial in­for­ma­tion is the norm. Don’t get me wrong, I am not com­plain­ing. I am just pointing out the basic fact that partial in­for­ma­tion is all that is avail­able. And that takes some getting used to. My engi­neer­ing undergraduate degree pencils me in as someone who likes com­plete, exact, and repeatable answers. The adaptation to partial answers, partial in­for­ma­tion, and partial out­comes has come with some chal­lenges.

A sample of some basic questions that re­ceive partial answers / in­for­ma­tion starts with: How bad is it? What should I ex­pec­t during treat­ment? How long will I have this port in my chest? When will I start feeling better? When will my hair fall out? When will my hair grow back? Why does everything smell so bad? How long do I have to take all of these pills? What kind of side effects can I ex­pec­t?

All of these are basic questions that usually are answered with some form of qualifying state­ment by the expert, letting us know that it is just a best esti­mate.

Most, if not all, of the of time, there is no one set answer or re­sponse that can accurately satisfy the desire for a more definitive picture. For instance, we may get a re­sponse to a question based upon how our doctor perceives we respond to in­for­ma­tion, or maybe based upon the current status of our cancer. Or, maybe yet, we get a re­sponse based upon the most recent clin­i­cal trial. Whatever the reason, we get a lot of “New York 3” type re­sponses.

But partial in­for­ma­tion can still be ap­pre­ci­ated. It is better than no in­for­ma­tion. It provides us with a notion that someone knows some­thing about what is going on. And partial in­for­ma­tion leaves room for interpretation. Or maybe I can write: "It leaves room for hope."

“I hope that the in­for­ma­tion I just read does not apply to me because it is not to my liking,” or maybe “I hope that it does apply to me because it is good news.”

Information that makes me worry or is not to my liking goes down easier by under­stand­ing that what I just read or heard is not exactly my situation. It did not con­tain all of my in­for­ma­tion, so it may not apply. All they have is partial in­for­ma­tion. I must remember that pub­lished data and results do not in­clude my particular cir­cum­stance.

When listening over the telephone to the nurse reading the side effects of Revlimid (lena­lido­mide) as an order is being filled and sent out can get scary because any­thing and everything that can go wrong is mentioned. However, and this is a big how­ever, it is all based upon partial in­for­ma­tion. They do not have my “specifics.” They do not know exactly what my re­sponse to the med­i­ca­tion will be. It could be this way, or it could be that way, or it could be both. We sort of know what is going to hap­pen, but not really. It is all based upon partial in­for­ma­tion.

Steroids? Who among us can say for sure how any of us will respond? My oncologist told me that the wife of a patient called him one evening very con­cerned that her husband (who had multiple myeloma) was jumping up and down on the bed naked. She did not know what to do. He calmly asked her if he had taken his steroids during the day. She in­di­cated that he had. Well, he told her, “Make sure the drapes are closed, no glass is in close proximity to the bed, and enjoy the show.” He was reminding her that no one can predict with total cer­tainty the side effects of steroids.

For me, taking five little steroid pills on Friday morning results in a Saturday morning routine that can and has in­volve­d, in varying degrees, me detailing the car, work­ing out, making the evening’s dinner, and taking care of the laundry all before my wife wakes up (which is usually around 7:30 am). So far there has been no jumping on the bed.

Partial in­for­ma­tion. Partial answers. Partial this and partial that. No one knows. Our choice is in how we respond to all of the “partial.”

George Carlin may have been more than a comedic genius with his “New York 3” routine. He may have been helping to prepare us for a multiple myeloma lifestyle. But then again, who knows? We only have partial in­for­ma­tion.