Since last November, the proteins in my blood that can indicate multiple myeloma in my bone marrow, which had been gone for several years, have reappeared. I have had them tested every six weeks. This spring, I got a three-month testing reprieve, which ended last week.

The little rascals increased slightly again.

So, when I saw my oncologist this week, we had a long talk, and I did something that I haven’t done in a very long time. I had a good cry.


I did not cry because my multiple myeloma may be creeping back into my bone marrow.

I did not cry because I need to have a bone-marrow biopsy next Wednesday. (For those of you who have never had the privilege, they are a real treat!)

I did not cry because getting this type of cancer is just bad luck. Nothing I ate, did or stressed about had anything to do with this diagnosis.

I did not cry because I am depressed. I am not. I have known since my original diagnosis five years ago that myeloma is not curable and always returns. While I don’t like this and do not have to, it was rather expected to happen some day. Besides, my food and bee-sting allergies are much more dangerous.

I did not cry because I will never be disease-free or able to lift a grandchild, work, wear pretty dresses or high heels, lift my saxophone, ride horses, mow the lawn, dig in the dirt, or bike, swim, run or walk off-trail in a woods without back pain again.

I did not cry because cancer drugs are so expensive the thought makes me seasick.

Nope, those things would not make me cry.

I cried because I really want to knock the mean people of this world (who blissfully go about their self-absorbed, orderly lives mentally, emotionally and physically abusing others) upside the head with my cane.

Yes, I cried, because people are mean!

People are mean by commission and omission. Truth has been castrated and humiliation elevated to a moral virtue. Shame extinct, and vulgarity and violence epidemic.

I cried because people are so busy looking for something to complain about that they don’t count the blessings in their lives. For instance, they are not me! Or any of the precious people sitting in the infusion room with me. Infusion rooms filled to the brim with pleasant, patient and peaceful people. No politics here! Priorities!

I cried because too many people have become their own gods. Their own ideas and self-importance supersede consideration of anyone or anything. We have become a deaf society of busybodies. Our motto is: “Everyone is stupid but me.”

Then, too, I cried because I’m bored. Sometimes, I feel buried alive in this house. I miss working. Miss serving others. Miss making a difference in people’s lives. Miss being in a position to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I miss me.

I cried because I could. My doctor is a great listener and can keep a straight face when I have a hissy-fit about badness and boredom.

I cried because society as a whole could benefit greatly by having many more great listeners and fewer talkers.

I cried because my phone rang during my appointment. It was the Red Cross calling for blood donations due to a severe blood shortage.

I cried because I am a blood user, not a donor.

That made me angry, and I cry when I am angry.

Kindness needs a little love once in a while.

Please, think of others today and give blood!


Patricia K. Turgeon lives in Centerville.