Philip R. Greipp, M.D.

Chair of Division of Hematology Research

Professor of Laboratory Medicine, Mayo Clinic College of Medicine

When I was asked to write a foreword for this book "Alien on a Familiar Planet: Remembering" by my partners in supporting research at Goldman Philanthropic Partnerships, I immediately accepted even before I read the book. But what I accepted as a task became an overriding interest in the experiences of Elaine Snyderman, a patient with a dreaded disease, multiple myeloma. As I read her manuscript, I was drawn deeper and deeper into her personal journey. If you are lucky enough to read this, you will come away a different person.

If you are a physician, you will have new empathy with your patients. If you are patient at the beginning of your own journey, you'll feel less like an extraterrestrial. If you are a spouse, you'll realize new hope. If you’re a family member, you'll understand, with perfect clarity, how important a son or daughter, a grandson or grandchild can be. And if you’re a friend, you'll know when you are most wanted, and most appreciated.

As you read about Elaine's journey, you'll marvel as "the Alien" describes with crystal clarity the trials and hopes of a patient diagnosed with a rare and incurable malignancy. You will read about seeing "colors more vivid than ever", while at the same time "trying feebly, vainly to imagine the void". You will learn why a patient can feel increasingly like "An Alien on a Familiar Planet", and how "the Alien" can find the way back to a vibrant living world.

You'll learn how a single word, properly spoken at the right moment, is a ray of hope. You'll learn that a few moments of kindness or of appreciation may life the heart in the face of the adversity. And what greater adversity than cancer and a stem cell transplant? How can a patient deal with loss of handfuls of hair, just in preparation for this procedure, without feeling removed from reality? How does one deal with all the poorly understood, if not unforeseen, side effects of this procedure and stay connected? How does one stay human and deal with the eventual havoc wreaked by this barbarian but life-extending procedure?

Throughout all this, "the Alien" still appreciates the view of a park and its citizens from a hospital room, or the voice of her grandson asking, "How are your counts Gramma?" And afterwards, "How many cancer cells do you have left?" We watch as "the Alien" overcomes pain and discomfort through meditation, conquers fear through prayer. We share moments as she savors the voice of her "favorite cowboy" husband and the poet’s words he speaks. It was their secret, the human and "the Alien" he never saw as anything but Elaine.

Joyful at last, family life all around her, a Sunday excursion, a trip to a restaurant, a Bat Mitzvah, and rejuvenating trip to Florida, and "the Alien" again becomes "a citizen of the planet". Please read on. You'll be glad you did.