Scott

I put the joy away

I put the joy away this weekend. I took down the lights, recycled the tree, and put the joy away. It’s taken a while to get to it. It was looking kind of lonely and out of place, like the last bit of Christmas Joy trying to hang on as long as possible.

A little Christmas Joy to greet us on the back porch.

When the curtain comes down on Christmas, it’s definitely over. The music, the decorations, the snacks, and certainly the anticipation that builds for weeks (months?) – gone with hardly a trace.

I have mixed feelings about Christmas – childhood memories, raising our kids, what are we celebrating and what does it all mean?

Seeing old style lights on a Christmas tree often takes me back to the Christmas tree I would stare at as I wondered about my ten year old world that was about to change dramatically and forever.

My siblings and I were to report to the Juvenile Detention Hall right after Christmas and from there we were soon placed in foster homes.

I experienced no family specific Christmas traditions growing up. My wife’s family traditions became mine – ours. Those traditions weren’t modified while raising our boys. Christmas was always at Grandma & Grandpa’s house.

As a kid, Christmas was receiving presents, it was great! Eventually I learned that there really is far more joy in giving than receiving. That is a sweet joy I hope to never put away.

I hope by having our kids and grandson home this year we’ve started (or renewed) a Christmas tradition in my family. Now we’re the grand parents. I hope to practice that tradition.

I frequently follow fantastic fellow folks

I do follow fellow Multiple Myeloma bloggers (in the blogosphere, which sounds like the start of a tongue twister). There are quite a few and they post from all over the world.

There is a website dedicated to hosting only Multiple Myeloma blogs. You can scroll through contributors or featured postings.

Some bloggers are ahead of me on this our common cancer journey, and some are behind. I read their blogs to see what I might be in for, and I read others going through the steps I have already taken.

Most, like me, are just telling their stories. I think my blog summed up would say: “This is what happened, yet I remain blessed.” Some bloggers, like John Smith are quite gifted writers. I’m encouraged by MM’rs who have lived many years on their stem cell transplant when the average benefit is 3 ½ years.

*Still hard to believe I’m a grandfather*

There are also the “final” blog posts usually written by a spouse, son, or daughter. Recently, one blogger wrote, “The farther you get from death, the more boring your story becomes.” WARNING: My blog may become increasingly boring as I enjoy this remission. Dull or intense, I thank God for each day.

I think my blog summed up would say: “This is what happened, yet I remain blessed.”

Hey, Map Face!

My face is healing where the cancer was removed, but if you look closely you can see a map of Nevada, or maybe its Florida.

Many have complimented the doctor’s work on my face (his specialty is breast reconstruction). When he finished removing the stitches he said, “You can walk out of here cancer free.” I replied, “Well – actually, there is no cure yet for my Multiple Myeloma.”

He looked quickly at the floor and muttered something quietly. I just should have just said thank you. I’m never sure, sometimes maybe I should keep my thoughts to myself.

Recently while in a hardware store, there was a young man having a very bad day. A clerk was trying to help him find something he needed – quickly. I saw him when I passed the end of his isle; I was looking at fire extinguishers in the next row.

I heard him say loud and clearly, “Everything that could possibly go wrong today has gone wrong!” I was tempted for just a moment to step around the corner and ask him if he has incurable cancer. “No? Then you do not realize what an absolutely wonderful day you are having.”

Should I have barged in with my unsolicited observation? Would it have been a welcome point of view not previously considered? Or would it be just one more annoyance in his near record bad day?

Doing the fire repair on my car has been like doing multiple, interconnected story problems associated with replacing fuel lines, vacuum lines, coil wires, starter wires, spark plug wires, distributor cap, and finally reconnecting the battery.

Before you touch cable to post you mentally add up the scores from all the story problems for a tally landing you somewhere on the scale of: instantly bursting into flames, wires glowing, plastic melting, or – cranking over and starting the engine.

Story Problem Example: a large red wire left the alternator heading west, to the starter solenoid. Midway along its journey it was joined by a medium gauge red wire that arrived at the starter at the same time. What was the origin of the second red wire, and to which of three terminals should it be connected?

Answer: take more pictures and make more diagrams before starting a project like this. I connected the battery, poured some gasoline in the carburetor and (with a fresh extinguisher standing by) hit the key. It started right up. That car sounds good, and it was nice to hear it running again.

Does your face hurt?

Does your face hurt? (No?) Well – its killing me! That was funny every time I said or heard it as a kid. Now it’s more like, “does your face hurt?” Well, it doesn’t really hurt, but it feels kind of weird.

Between the dermatologist removing the cancer and the plastic surgeon cutting and sewing (and burning?) flesh to fill and cover the crater it left, the most pain was from the needle used to achieve numbness.

After that, there was very little pain. We didn’t count stitches, but the surgeon said lots of little stitches give the best results. The skin cancer is gone, but I’ve added another doctor to check back with regularly.