Like many others, being diagnosed with cancer set off an avalanche of mixed emotions, and I traveled down multiple rabbit holes of what-ifs. It took me about five months before reality began to set in. I broke down into an ugly cry with, "Why me?" I can’t do this, and that was when I was en route to my stem cell transplant. From the moment of diagnosis, there was a plethora of medicine to navigate, treatments to receive, and side effects to manage as well as Information to process and body changes to contend with. In the beginning, it was all happening so very quickly while simultaneously time felt like it was at a standstill. Each step of treatment brought anxiety and worry. Each step of treatment, I feverishly made notes of questions to ask, like I was educated in multiple myeloma (MM), and looking back, I don’t even think my questions made a lick of sense. Days of treatment would often be filled with fatigue and gastrointestinal side effects. Post-treatment steroids would provide energy that would prove productive, but then make for sleepless nights the following day. I felt like I was forced onto a roller coaster that just wasn’t ending, and I hate roller coasters. I was stuck on the biggest, scariest roller coaster I’ve ever even seen. About six months post-stem cell transplant, things started to slow down. I had survived the roller coaster ride and started to feel more like I was now on the “It’s a Small World " ride at Disney. It was much slower, and I was able to take in the information, process where I was and what was coming next. I reintegrated into the workforce. It was just like before my diagnosis; I was just more tired at the end of the day and had lost all my hair. After a year of being back at work, I had perfect attendance and traveled all over for work. I continue monthly check-ups, being glued to my results portal, and proudly drive myself to and from my infusions. My hair has come back curly, and I’ve put on a few extra pounds. I try to walk every day and am bumbling my way through the re-vaccination process. I feel as if I have gained a little control of my body and life again, or do a good job portraying an exemplary blood cancer patient on the outside, yet with every single test result and every single visit, I am glued to the results portal and go into a tailspin if any test is the least bit out of the normal range.
It’s been two years since I started my journey. There are more good days than bad days, days I am down, and days I tell myself I didn’t go through all of this not to live.
Elizabeth
multiple myeloma (MM)
