I thought I’d tell a little story related to an aspergillus fungal infection that beset me before my first stem cell transplant.

What I’m going to recount here has less to do with the fungal infection than it is a cautionary tale.

In a dark way, this story can be somewhat amusing, but the absurdity only gets humorous in the retelling, not in the actual experience.

The aspergillus came along with something called bronchiolitis obliterans with organizing pneumonia, or BOOP.  That there’s even an illness that’s called BOOP is kind of funny …

Let me start out by saying that this is a “dex day” for me, so I’m writing this in the middle of the night.

As we’ve reduced my dose of dexamethasone (Decadron) over time, I don’t awake as early in the night as I used to.  Also, in earlier times, the dex would wake me up, and bing! – I’d be fully awake.  Instantly.

That’s not so any more.  Nowadays, with the lower dose, I’m still tired when the dex brings me out of sleep mode.  I’m awake with virtually no …

My dog, Kodi, died suddenly the other day.  He was 15 years old.

I know, you’re asking, what does that have to do with multiple myeloma?

Let me try to explain.

When I was diagnosed in 2006, and by the time I ended up at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, I was in really bad shape.  Or so they tell me.  So much so, that I’m told that I’m fortunate to be alive today.

When I found myself unexpectedly admitted to the hospital for about two weeks while they slowly pulled me back …

Say, how’s your brain working these days?

That’s a question for many cancer patients and survivors, but it is particularly one for those multiple myeloma patients who have had at least one stem cell transplant.

Getting a stem cell transplant is pretty intense.

First you start treatment with a cancer drug regimen, or radiation, to reduce the level of myeloma cells in your body and to get your myeloma into the best remission that can be accomplished.

Then you take drugs to make your bone marrow produce more stem cells and “mobilize” …

I try to make a point about not talking in my column too much about whatever symp­tom, side effect, or malady is affecting me at any particular time.

But suffice it to say that lately there has been a lot going on with me, and it has brought to the forefront that inevitable discussion about what to do next should my current treat­ment regi­men of Revlimid (lena­lido­mide) and dexamethasone (Decadron) start to fail.

I’ve discussed this prospect at various times over the past year with the handful of myeloma doctors …

I wish my doctors talked with each other.

Not all of them, just the main ones:  My two oncologists, my primary care physician, and my nephrologist.  Those are the doctors that I see regularly.

Sometimes they send each other their notes from my most recent visit, although I’m not sure this happens efficiently all the time.  On top of that, I suspect that these office visit notes don’t get read until I pop up in the queue for an appointment with one of those doctors.  That could be weeks, even months later. …

Since I got my myeloma diagnosis five and a half years ago, I haven’t been given to bouts of depression.

With a myeloma diagnosis, you really don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself.

I’ve tried to take in stride all the things “they” have done to me – two autologus stem cell transplants, a myriad of chemotherapy side effects, an open lung biopsy, and endless needle sticks, just to name a few.

Then there’s the prodding, probing, and testing by various doctors and specialist of all kinds.  There were spur-of-the-moment ultrasounds …