First the good news: my doctors at Princess Margaret Hospital have told me I am in ‘near complete remission’, which might be upgraded to complete remission once a few more tests are run. This visit to the hospital certainly felt much different than previous visits. Mainly, I looked and felt healthy and happy. For those of you who have not seen me in person in the last 18 months, I have been in pretty bad shape at times, and I certainly felt it. I have been out in public much more lately, and have been able to pass as almost ‘normal’ much of the time. People who don’t know my story have even complimented me on my chic short hairstyle. (I don’t tell them the unconventional way I obtained it.)
September saw a return to a more normal pace of life; or rather, the start of my new normal. I have been able to do many more mom activities, like getting everyone going in the mornings, walking the dog, making lunchs, and getting the two older girls into bed at night. I exercise every day, and I have even been able to log some hours for work. What a joy it is to be able to do a simple thing like go with my family to the market! There are so many mundane daily things that make up the rich fabric of our lives, which we don’t even notice until they are taken from us.
I have not spent a lot of time yet in these missives elaborating just how much cancer has taken from me. Aside from the obvious (like taking a future for granted), multiple myeloma has permanently destroyed bone structure, especially in my spine. I have recovered from the brutal pain, but the physical recovery of mobility is taking a lot longer, and in some respects will never return. For example, I have been told that I can never again do any heavy lifting. I have never lifted or carried the baby, and I doubt I ever will.
Multiple myeloma is a nasty disease. It damaged my vertebrae, which caused the pain, which in turn caused the inability to move around, which in its turn caused the subsequent core muscle atrophy. I used a walker to get around for a long time. This, plus the illness, caused more than one person to take me for a 70 year old. Fortunately (!) I had so many other things to occupy my mind that I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on the blow to my vanity.
The operation on my vertebrea in March to stabilize the pain made a big difference. I also saw a tremendous difference once all the chemotherapy was done. Finally, my muscles started to respond normally once again. I spent a very focused summer at the cottage sleeping in, exercising in short spurts all day long, and reading all the books that I couldn’t read at the hospital because my brain had been too fried. (I should mention here that, once again, Alex made this possible by taking on all the childcare and cooking. Being the caregiver in a situation like this is almost untenable, but Alex got us through it.)
I will be going on a maintenance dose of the chemotherapy – in this case the notorious thalidomide – to keep the cancer from returning as long as possible. Multiple myeloma is currently considered incurable, but I prefer to think of it as a chronic disease. I don’t have any intentions of leaving this earth any time soon. I am fortunate that research in multiple myeloma research has doubled remissions rates in recent years, success unparalleled in any other cancer. Still, I am hedging my bets. I am doing a 5K walk (yes, believe it or not I have progressed that much) to raise money for myeloma research in a few weeks. I hope you might think of joining my team or making a donation to me or my team. A cure is right around the corner, and I would like to hurry it along. (More at the end of the message.)
Thank you everyone for the great moral support you have offered me and my family. We have had one Remission Party already, and I expect to have more such celebrations in the near future. Though it has been a really hard run in some ways, cancer has not left me bitter. In some ways it has made me bold, perhaps because I realize there is no point in holding back. And it has made me grateful for the little things that make up the rich fabric of my life – like you, my family and friends.
Sincerely,
Lorraine
