Officially NOT Cancer Free!

Saw the doctor.  It’s official.  I have a mutated form of multiple myeloma.

There’s a bone marrow transplant in my future.  That’s assuming, of course that the Medicare and gap insurance will pay for it.  There’s the treatment regimen; shots to the stomach and high doses of steroids and other “cancer” medicine.  Again, assuming I can somehow manage to pay the $2000 per month co-pay.  I guess when you get right down to it; I just can’t afford to stay alive.

I’m not scared anymore the way I was when I got the disease the first time.  I thought for sure I was going to die.  It was the first time I had confronted the whole “mortality” issue.  Dying is just not on my bucket list.  The fact is that I’m mostly filled with dread.  After all, here we go again.

I really don’t quite know how I really feel about the fact that the Multiple Myeloma that I thought I had gotten out of my system has returned.  Once again, like the last time, when it returned it had to start breaking stuff.  This time, my shoulder.  On occasion the pain is “get down on your knees and beg for your mommy to make it stop.”  Mostly, it’s a persistent dull ache that just won’t go away.  The pain medication does help, but only enough to keep me from turning into a crazed serial killer and prevent me from burning down the neighbor’s house.  No, not my house.  Serial killers are crazy, not stupid.

The pain and the broken shoulder are just the physical manifestations of the disease that, once again, is trying to kill me.  The mental part is that it is really pissing me off.  My wife and I were just starting to have a “normal” life.  We’ve moved into a nearly new townhouse and she is happier than she’s been in a long time.  I feel like Al Pacino in the God Father when he said, “Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in.”  I would really like to punch something.

It’s lonesome out here on the edge of the cliff and it’s long way to the bottom.

So now you know what I know.  My dance card is filled every Friday from now until the end of time as we know it.  The steroids are going to turn me into the Goodyear blimp and I’m about to owe so much money to the health care system that my credit score is going to be a four figure negative number. In fact, if a potential creditor ever looks me up there won’t be a score; there’ll just be a note that says “Call the Police!”

The bottom line is be tolerant with me I may be a little grumpy for a while.

One Comment

  1. Doc says:

    I’m not sayin’ I’m just sayin’!

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