|
This memoir represents
only the first installment in a sequence.
In the more than five years that have passed since its completion
our family has celebrated holidays, birthdays, wedding anniversaries, two
bar mitzvahs, one bat mitzvah, the marriage of our youngest child, the
birth of that couple’s son--our fifth grandchild--as well as weddings of
nieces and the births of their babies.
We’ve burned the proverbial candle with trips to Paris, Rome, New
York, London, Quebec, Toronto, the Caribbean and Florida.
But multiple myeloma does not just disappear.
At this date it remains incurable.
Along the line I’ve faced further crises, but thanks to constant
strides in research and treatment for cancer, patients with MM are living
longer and enjoying a higher quality of life.
New drugs such as Revimid and Velcade hold out hope for relapsed
patients. I don’t have to
be an alien anymore.
Six
years since my diagnosis I have learned a number of strategies to that
end. One, climbing outside of myself--“this mortal coil,” Shakespeare
tagged it--and finding the humor in my plight. If and when that fails, I
find humor elsewhere--a friend’s corny jokes, “New Yorker” cartoons,
a zany sitcom, a clever book, a funny movie, old or new.
Laughing out loud is better than any drug mainlined.
There are also times when reading a meaningful essay, a good short
story or a compelling novel is the cure for self-absorption.
Another, assigning my faculties to
healing and harnessing energy assures that no precious day is wasted.
Charged with purpose, my life exponentially increases in minutes
and hours as well. “For my
purpose holds/ To sail beyond the sunset,” said Tennyson’s Ulysses.
He would continue to live doing what he had best enjoyed.
New experiences, challenges as small as
adding five more minutes to the workout on the elliptical trainer and as
hefty as a family trip to the beach at Amelia Island, have kept my heart
beating in more ways than one. Community
involvement, networking with other patients and supporting research are
integral to my self worth.
Finally,
I have been blessed with a spouse who has provoked my laughter since we
first began our friendship at Hyde Park High School in the fifties.
Though we hold clashing views about what movies to see and we’ve
always had something to debate about, he has been there for me through all
the twists and turns of this adventure we call life, and it wasn’t
always easy for him. The patient is showered with medical attention,
visits from friends and relatives, flowers and gifts. Her complaints are
actually solicited. I cannot let him know often enough my appreciation for
who he is and has become. These
days, even if murmuring otherwise, he is a good sport about seeing my
movie choice.
“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow/ Creeps in this
petty pace.” Not for me,
Macbeth. Whatever tomorrow
brings I am thankful for all my yesterdays.
And for every tomorrow.
EPS
January 2004 |
