LongLifeNoodles

It has been 90 days since my second autologous stem cell transplant- and 90 days since my last high dose melphalan infusion. My blood counts have recovered and most of the melphalan has cleared out of my system. After a tough 2 months of recovery at home, I finally started feeling much better about 4 weeks ago. And now, I feel better every day. I’m on- what a friend called- a “chemo vacation.” I must say that I have never enjoyed a vacation as much as this one and I don’t want to go home! At many moments over the last 11 months- from my December 22, 2008 diagnosis through 5 rounds of VDD as induction therapy, VD-PACE for consolidation, stem cell mobilization and collection, and then tandem (two) high-dose melphalan stem cell transplants- I never really believed I would ever feel like this again. I’m completely euphoric.

It is such a BUZZ to have energy again, not feel nauseous and tired all the time, and be able to eat and enjoy food. I’m off most of my meds, including the pain pills. My hair is growing back, although slowly. My back is significantly better and I’ve started walking for exercise and even kicking the ball around with daughter #3, who loves soccer. I picked up daughter #4 last week (all 60 pounds of her) and held her in my arms, much to her delight and surprise. I’ve even started speaking with people about work- CEO and Board positions with exciting Silicon Valley tech companies. It feels like I may be at a transition point in my battle with Multiple Myeloma- a point at which I might be able to jump back into “normal” life and things could be a little like they were before I got sick. As I said to a friend, “I’m on cloud 9.”

Well, I came down from cloud 9 today- and I came down hard. I had a bone marrow biopsy and aspiration. I described this procedure in a previous post and will spare you the details except to say there are very large needles and the extraction of fluid and bone fragments from the hip bone. The procedure was the same as usual- scary and intimidating at first, somewhat uncomfortable, and, in the end, relatively painless. (And, yes, that on the right is a picture of me from today. The needle looks like a corkscrew or meat thermometer.)

Having the biopsy shook me off of my cloud, slapped me across the face, and woke me from my recent euphoria with a cold reminder: no matter how I feel today, I am still walking around with an incurable cancer that will, at some point in the future, relapse. Driving that familiar route from home, passing the USCF Medical Center on the right, and going to the BMT floor at the medical building, brought back all the memories of the last 11 months that I had suppressed with my “euphoria.” That’s what I mean by ‘buzz kill.”

The hard truth about our cancer is that no matter how hard we beat it down, it will come back on its own terms. When it comes back, we’ll beat it down again and again for as long as we can. I can’t ignore my cancer or hide from it or pretend I’m not sick; and, suppressing my memories won’t make it go away or make it any less real. What I can do, though, is to live as fully as I can when I am well, never letting the cancer completely define who I am, but still embracing it (yes, embracing it) as a part of who I am. I can’t live without Myeloma- it is now part of my very fabric.

So, the biopsy felt like a “buzz kill” at first- killing my new sense of health and vitality, like a cancer-free person on top of life. But, that’s not what I am. Instead, the biopsy was a gentle reminder that I live my life with Myeloma, in a precarious balance between health and sickness, and that I need to embrace and respect this dynamic- for better and for worse.