Multiple myeloma always returns. It is treatable only, not curable. Knowing it could come back means you’re always waiting… every trip to the clinic… What’s my blood work say? Is it back?

All patients at the clinic receive a lovely re-usable blue bag with a binder brimming with information. The problem for us was, it was too much information; descriptions of all kinds of side effects and what to do should they occur. I firmly shut the binder and said if we need any of this information, we would know where to find it. 

Some people would want all that information. We found it intimidating. We chose instead to focus on what was directly in front of us. Our mantra became, “We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it”.

James was lucky. Yes, he had side effects, but that first round of treatment was ‘doable’ to use his word. 

Friends and family would look at James and remark on how healthy he looked with such frequency it became a running joke between us. But it was true. He had energy, he was rebuilding his running distance, gardening, riding his bike. Being normal.

I recall a friend I hadn’t talked to for a while called after hearing James had been diagnosed — “Oh Anne, Oh! Anne! What are you going to do!?” 

“Well, …  right now, I’m getting dressed for work… we’re having stew for supper…”  

Life continues. We had to live ‘as if’ — as if there were no diagnosis, no monthly trip to the clinic, no special medications. That was challenging. So much of cancer treatment is trust in your oncologist; put your head down and put your arm out. The cancer fight occurs at home, and in your head. The fight at the clinic is up to the specialists.

It was a relief to start treatment and discover that the treatment was not worse than the disease.

Stay safe everyone.

Anne Milne is an every Sunday blogger.  Temporarily, this blog will be focussed on telling our cancer story. Please share if you know someone who may benefit. Facebook or Twitter.