This past spring, much of the northeastern United States had an unusual hot spell. In New York City, the spring trees and shrubs burst into bloom in March, a month ahead of time. I spent most of that month in the hospital undergoing a stem cell transplant, isolated from the extraordinary weather.

The first few days in the hospital, I had a glimmer of Central Park through the hallway windows. From my eleventh floor perch, I looked longingly at the joggers and bike riders exercising near the reservoir. But I was soon …

Many of the topics I write about start out as random things in my life that eventually grow into a column. Sometimes the seed is planted by a comment someone makes, or perhaps something I read, or in at least one case by a dream.

The idea for this month's column came to me when I recently heard the song "Once In A Lifetime" by the Talking Heads, which includes the line "You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?"

Or in other words, "Why do I have multiple myeloma?" …

Getting a multiple myeloma diagnosis just stuns you.

That is, once you figure out what it is and what it means.

I’d guess that most people who are confronted with the news probably have never heard of myeloma.  I can say that I’d heard of it, but knew absolutely nothing about it.  I wasn’t even sure it was cancer.

Two things about myeloma stuck in my mind in the aftermath of my diagnosis in 2006: Incurable. Almost invariably fatal.

It didn’t take me long then to come to my senses.

When you’re told you …

What was the weather report usually in the spring of 2010 when I was undergoing stem cell transplantation?  It seemed to match my mental state: Snow showers (cold and lonely thoughts); freezing rain (tears unwilling to be shed); fog (brain fog, that is), often interspersed with bright sunshine (grateful to have survived the myeloma).  Typical foothills weather; if you don’t like it, wait 15 minutes, and it will probably change.  That is the way it is in the shadow of the Canadian Rockies.

The treatments that I went through involving chemotherapy drugs …

I am writing this column 30 days after my donor stem cell transplant.

The road to this point has been far from easy.  Nor do I believe that I am anywhere near “out of the woods” as far as recovery.

However, I am feeling pretty good about where I am at right now and about my decision to go forward with the transplant.

First, a little background:

I have written about this in some of my previous posts.  Since being diagnosed about 6.5 years ago, I have undergone just about every treatment …

I am writing this early on Sunday morning as I am preparing to leave Columbia, Missouri, following the University of Georgia's win over Mizzou late last night.  (Apologies to all Mizzou fans.)

Georgia struggled through much of the game but came alive in the fourth quarter. For this, I am thankful because during my tenure at UGA, we've had some journeys home where the mood was not joyful.

Of course, football is nowhere near as serious as the battle against multiple myeloma or any cancer, but it is a game with many …

There was a full moon Labor Day weekend.  The sky was clear all three nights here in Florida.  The moon’s light was filtered as it passed through the humid late summer’s air, forming a bright halo.

Walking beneath the full moon reminded me of the trying months following my multiple myeloma diagnosis.

Believe it or not, the moon played an important role in my initial recovery five years ago in Wisconsin.  Even though I could barely walk, I will never forget stumbling down to the end of the block and back each …