When trying to encapsulate my life ex­peri­ences and paths traveled, there are two very distinct roads taken. There was the path taken with ex­peri­ences before “the cancer,” and then, of course, there is the cur­rent path of living with “the cancer” that I am on now.

While recognizing that there were events before diag­nosis that were mem­o­ra­ble – wedding, birth of chil­dren, death of a parent – generally speak­ing, my life before mul­ti­ple myeloma was pretty routine. My old life.

My new life started a little after 11 a.m. on Jan­u­ary 15, 2015 in a very nondescript doctor’s office. I remember sitting in the chair on the left side across from his desk, wear­ing gray pants, a blue shirt, and a blue and green necktie, when I first heard three of the most powerfully spoken words I will prob­a­bly ever hear: “You have cancer.” And at that point, the old “be­fore cancer” life was gone. Never to return.

Not long after my diag­nosis, it became obvious to me that there was going to be very little gained from looking back at my old life. First off, thoughts like “Gee, I wish I didn't have cancer” (focusing on the old life) or “How could this hap­pen?” or “Why did this hap­pen?” were getting me nowhere except pos­si­bly to feeling a bit sorry for myself and damning my fate.

For my well-being, I had to ac­cept having mul­ti­ple myeloma, plain and simple. Why did I get it? Well, does it really mat­ter? I mean, I got it. Plain and simple. As time passed, the notion or belief that know­ing the “why” or “how” could be beneficial as I tried to move for­ward never seemed to add up.

The im­por­tant issue for me was ac­cepting my fate, ac­cepting the reality of having mul­ti­ple myeloma, and then work­ing as much as pos­si­ble to ad­just­ to and ac­cept this new reality. I could wish and hope all I wanted, but none of that was of value.

(Oh, I'm not perfect. So even to­day, from time to time, the "why" and "how" ques­tions float into my consciousness.)

The physical tasks asso­ci­ated with having and living with mul­ti­ple myeloma to this date have been full of instructions: when to take my pills, when to re-order more pills, when to schedule my port flush, when to schedule my blood draws, when to wear the mask, what not to eat, and so on. It's all pretty straight­for­ward. Yes, my life is dif­fer­en­t now, but not that much dif­fer­en­t. Besides, if I want to live, I have to do what is nec­es­sary. So there's not been much pushback on my part. I was and am grateful that I had choices to make.

For me, the greater strug­gles were and still are of the mental nature. Finding and implementing a meth­od to help me get through the “dark times” was crit­i­cal. Re-focusing my mind away from thoughts about unfairness, self-pity, and resentment became and still are a priority. I had to put to rest, or at least minimize, many of the thoughts I had about my life before mul­ti­ple myeloma. 

That was then. This is now. And this mental “training,” as I have come to identify it, is an everyday kind of task.

I must ac­cept who I am and be mindful and grateful for the place that I am at right now, to­day. I have to­day. How am I feeling to­day? What will to­day bring? Can I work to­wards an awareness of the good­ness that abounds to­day?

We all could com­plain about the many dif­fer­en­t and dif­fi­cult new situations that come with mul­ti­ple myeloma, but really, what good would that do? Multiple myeloma has taken its toll on me, no ques­tion about it. But it is what it is. So, stay in the now.

Living with mul­ti­ple myeloma and know­ing proof pos­i­tive that I have but a short time on this blue planet makes what I do to­day seem so much more spe­cial and valuable. And I like that. Work­ing to de­vel­op a mindset that makes me aware of life’s good­ness helps create for me a more pos­i­tive and brighter outlook and en­viron­ment. Much of the heavy lifting re­quired to try and make sense of what hap­pened in my life before cancer falls away when I stay in the now. The same is true for looking into the distant future. In a way, having cancer simplified things. It is for me somewhat freeing.

No mul­ti­ple myeloma: That was then. Having and ac­cepting mul­ti­ple myeloma: This is now.

When I was grow­ing up, I envisioned myself swatting home runs as a professional baseball player. Well, swinging badly at three straight curve balls and heading back to the dugout when I was about 17 ended that vision. I couldn’t hit the curve. I ac­cepted it and moved on.

Five and a half years ago, I came up against mul­ti­ple myeloma with little or no ex­pec­ta­tions. I still do not know what to ex­pect. I am one “bad num­bers” blood draw away from some very serious worry, some very serious anxiety, some very seriously depressing thoughts, some ... STOP. STOP. STOP.

Today, in the now, I am fine. I am still at bat, still swinging at what life throws.

Soooo, maybe in a way, I have finally learned to hit the curve, or at least foul it off.