Get Well or Die Tryin’

Where to start?  The beginning is always a good place.  So, when a man and woman love each other very much they… Just kidding.  Let’s start with…

Thursday – Chris and I arrived at the Royal to ‘Are you in the diary?’.  ‘Yes, the myeloma nurse’ who I’d spoken to on Tuesday ‘booked me in with the other receptionist.’ We took a seat and shortly after got called through by one of the nurses who said ‘So you’re here for blood tests for tomorrow’s appointment?’

Me:  ‘Well no, I’m here to see a doctor about the numbness and do I have an appointment for tomorrow?’

Nurse:  ‘I’ll just double check with receptionist.’  On coming back ‘Yes, 10:10.  Do you want to wait to see a doctor now since you’ll be seeing the consultant tomorrow – more knowledgeable that’s why their paid the bigger bucks.  It’s up to you.’

So after having bloods taken we went into the city centre where Chris did a little shopping and we dined Zizzi’s – as they do Chris’s favourite ever meal Casareccua Pollo Piccante and I had good ole Spag Bol (or rather Spaghetti Alla Bolognese).

Friday – I was unsure as to who I was seeing at clinic and when one of the health care workers checked with the myeloma nurse, who was a bit exasperated (not with me) that I’d not managed to see a doctor on Thursday after making all the arrangements for a senior doctor to see me, it turned out our appointment was with one of the transplant doctors and the bone marrow transplant co-ordinator to discuss the prospect of an allogenic (donor) transplant.

We were in there an hour and 20 minutes, possibly because a big chunk was taken up with altered sensation talk.  Along with my right forearm the pad of my left thumb and the right side of my chin now feel odd and I still have, intermittently, the pain in the crown of my head.  Straight after the appointment I got some free x-rays on my head and neck (skull and cervical spine to the more technical amongst us) and Dr S did a request for some MRIs.

When we got to the transplant bit Dr S explained that the role of allogenic transplant in myeloma has no hard and fast rules.  It is neither proven or unproven as THE way to go however, given the way things had gone so far for me, without giving a donor transplant a whirl the prognosis was very poor (he did also say really poor at one point and hey, overall both are better separately than together – really very poor).

Last appointment the Prof had mentioned another autologus (from me) transplant and then a mini allo (from some random stranger) transplant.  However Dr S said that another auto couldn’t really be considered for two reasons – he could almost guarantee I wouldn’t produce any cells to harvest (we had trouble last time and there’d been the subsequent melphalan for the transplant last year) and with the plasma content of the bone marrow trephine being 80%-85% (the Prof must have rounded up to 90%) that was a whole bunch of myeloma cells to potentially give back.

As my paraprotein is zero but my bone marrow plasma cell percentage is 85% and my free lite chains (not something I’ve paid any attention to in the past) haven’t been measured since February Dr S thought it worthwhile to count them now in case the myeloma has mutated and stopped producing a full measureable monoclonal protein – the full one is made up of a heavy chain (IGa in my case) and a light chain (mine is Lambda).  In fully secretary myeloma the full proteins are measured and known as paraprotein, M-spike, PP, M-protein.

In some people however only the light chain is produced and having no accompanying heavy chain to bond with it is not measurable using the regular test that picks up only full monoclonal proteins.  However since the advent of a way to measure these free (unattached and possibly flirty) chains the number of patients that show up as truly non-secretary (eg, not measurable through blood or urine) has dropped to 1% or 2%.  Everyone, with or without myeloma, produces excess free lite chains (maybe in case one of the full proteins gets divorced) but an inordinate amount in someone with myeloma would be indicative of active disease.  So I had blood taken to check out the number of loose lite chains cruising around without a partner.

I also had a blood sample taken for tissue typing (HLA).  Apparently there are 10 potential pairs to match – 10 is good, nine is okay, eight is do-able but not ideal, seven and below are non starters.

The other thing that would need to be looked at is reducing the 85% plasma cell content before transplant.  It may, hopefully, be sitting there inactive at the moment (freelite test pending) but to transplant donor cells at that percentage would be like giving the myeloma cells a chance to claim permanent squatters’ rights before the donor cells have fully moved all their stuff in and made themselves at home.

With regard to the transplant itself if we KISS (Keep It Simple Stupid) the figures are – 1/3 kark it as a result of the transplant or complications arising there from, 1/3 relapse and ultimately pop off because of the myeloma and 1/3 go on to have a long remission.

As we needed to go to my Auntie Ann’s on Friday if I were to see her this weekend (she was going to London Saturday/Sunday to watch Saints vs Harlequins) I didn’t get my lunch out – well not fully, we ended up with our first ever Subway Subs eaten in just opposite the hospital.

Saturday – Letter arrived telling me that I had an appointment on Friday!  I had a slight temp in the morning of 37.3 along with a bit of a headache.  Mid afternoon a friend with myeloma had rang to say there was a local show in aid of Myeloma UK by a young lady in memory of her mum, he’d just seen details of it in the local paper and him and his wife were going.  About an hour later, by which time I’d persuaded a reluctant B that he’d really like to go, I started feeling a bit ropy and my temp went up to 37.8.  So needless to say we didn’t make it to the show – not least because I didn’t want to share anything I may have acquired, because I’m mean like that.  I felt somewhat better after a cool bath and some painkillers, played a computer game with B and then started feeling ropy again and had a kip – very little knitting got done, the volume of production of which acts as a wellness barometer.

Sunday – Temperature this morning 37.3, after paracetemol 36.9, generally felt okay, tired, slightly headachy but okay.  Then at 10:00, the time I’d been instructed to wake B up, I started feeling decidedly off, got up from the desk to wake B and felt sick.  Shortly after, after getting B to encourage Bud to get on the bed with him so I had the bathroom to myself I parted company with the few things I’d consumed in the two hours and a bit hours I’d been up.  How is it though that one and a half cups of coffee, curcumin tablets, a calichew tablet and probably one digestive biscuit (I got two out but shared with Bud) assume the size of a family bucket from KFC when they make an encore appearance?

Speaking of Bud, he’s been having ear drops administered since Wednesday, reluctantly mind but not too badly.  This morning, as he got all excited in a ‘Please don’t stick anything else in my ear – I’ll be really, really good if you don’t’ way and after enticing him in with the treat he would get once they were in – I PUT THEM IN THE WRONG EAR!

We’re supposed to be going to a friend’s for tea tonight so I’m going to take it super easy this afternoon as I HATE to miss out on anything particularly if the missing out is myeloma related. Mind you, if push comes to shove I’m sure she’ll let me lie down on her settee – I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time and it gets me out of even contemplating cooking.

My Stem Cell Transplant Calendars September – December 2011

My stem cell transplant calendars. After I am given my own stem cells on September 13th, I will have to be montiored for at least 100 days here in Colorado before I could head back home to Mackay, Idaho.

I will spend at least 2-3 weeks in the hospital beginning September 12 2011 and then 1-2 weeks in a hotel near the hospital before I can return to Jani and Robbyn’s place in Greeley, Colorado.

Around Day 60, they will decide if a 2nd stem cell transplant is warranted. If so, I’d have to start with my Day 0, Day 1 to Day 100 AGAIN.

Remember, you can click on each to calendar page to enlarge them for reading.

Stem Cell Transplant Date Set

I will get my final Velcade/Decadron/Aloxi chemotherapy Friday, September 9 2011 at Dr. Moore’s office in Fort Collins. Then, I’ll take oral steroids over the weekend.

I’ll be admitted to the University of Colorado Hospital on Monday September 12 2011 and given the melphalan chemotherapy that will kill all of the contents of my bone marrow along with more Velcade and Decadron.

On Tuesday, September 13 2011, I get my own stem cells back via transfusion. This is considered Day 0 of the Transplant. The melphalan will make me

First Connection

Oriental Poppy

Recently, at twilight, a deer appeared in my driveway. Silent as the emerging darkness, she stepped carefully onto the gravel. Behind her, a creamy froth of clouds smeared the horizon; crickets chirruped in celebration of the declining day. I watched as the doe slipped into the tall field grasses. After several minutes, I walked out to where she had crossed the road and exposed herself to danger. The failing light hid her path. She had vanished, leaving behind only the scuff of her hooves in the gravel.

My cancer, multiple myeloma, is equally enigmatic. One moment, it is here and the next it is gone. I carry all the evidence of its existence but the substance cannot be grasped. I rely on my support group, sponsored by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, to keep me grounded in the realities of this disease. At the monthly meetings, I interact with individuals whose various presentations of the illness cover the entire spectrum of multiple myeloma.

Delphiniums at dusk

Always, there are new faces seeking to buttress themselves against the shock of a cancer diagnosis. Others are long-term members of the group, survivors of up to a decade or more of treatments. Some, like myself, have a passive variation. We responded well to our choice of therapy. A few have complications from the MM, which has advanced and evolved in spite of numerous therapies.

Due in part to my association with this group, I became a “First Connection” volunteer with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Periodically, a social worker with the LLS puts me in contact with a patient who has multiple myeloma. The idea is simple: connect an experienced person with a novice. In the course of the last eighteen months, under the auspices of this program, I have spoken with individuals from all across the United States. Most often, those I speak with are considering a stem cell transplant.

Spanky, finding his balance

Controversies surrounding transplants have blossomed due to the recent success of “novel agents” like revlimid and velcade. What was once the absolute standard of care, SCTs are now an exceptional treatment, recommended on the one hand and discouraged on the other. Some clinics believe the transplant procedure is too harsh on the body. They argue that the latest drugs deliver comparable remissions with less risk to the marrow environment. Other institutes extol the virtues of a transplant. They assert that a SCT (or two) plus extensive maintenance with the new drugs can deliver remissions that, for some patients, border on a cure. What’s one to do?

I can’t answer the question as to which protocol is best. This weekend I am celebrating the three-year anniversary of my own transplant. I naively went forward with the procedure seven months after diagnosis. It worked well for me. I enjoy excellent health; I have not had so much as a cold in over a year. The cancer boldly appeared in my blood when I sought the cause for persistent anemia. Then, it retreated when we fought back with chemo and a transplant. We still detect its footprint in my monthly blood labs. Essentially, though, it is well behaved… for the time being.

What I call a Monkey Flower

I keep it simple when talking with a newly diagnosed MMer through the First Connection program. Transplants are not, in and of themselves, curative. The procedure is arduous but I emphasize its tolerability. You will feel crummy for a period of four to six weeks. Following that, recovering your stamina will be slow but sure. Transplants are relatively safe. It’s not possible to foretell how you will respond; yet my leap of faith succeeded and I am not unique.

Everyone must make his or her own decision. Therefore, it behooves you to become informed. That is the first step in a lengthy journey with this disease. Yes, I was naïve with regard to stem cell transplants. Nonetheless, my wife and I performed the due diligence necessary to “own” our decision to undergo the procedure.

More happy flowers at dusk

Since that time, new treatments have advanced quickly. Now, the options are greater. Patients enjoy a wealth of choices. However, the decision on how to go forward can be confusing. Accordingly, one must be thorough in determining what works best for them. My choice had as much to do with logistics as it did an assessment of what I thought I could handle. Don’t be paralyzed by your doubt. Accept the uncertainty, trust your decision, and, most importantly, fight back.

On the Road

Pine forest and the Deschutes River

I’ve been traveling.

Recently, my wife and I attended the graduation of our niece from Whitman College in Washington. Tillie, the daughter of my wife’s sister, received a degree in Theatre with a minor in Spanish. She landed a much sought after two-year position at the college admission office, which will provide her income and experience as she considers grad school. Her parents work for the State Department. Their children were raised for the most part overseas. Tillie and her brother, also a Whitman student, are exceptionally bright cosmopolitan kids.

Following graduation, our two families vacationed in Central Oregon. The Cascade Mountains divide the state into yin-yang topography. To the west are brooding fir forests, the fertile Willamette River valley, and damp coastal areas. To the east, pine forests, high desert, and dry wide-open spaces prevail.

Early morning pine tree detail

When I was Tillie’s age, I spent several years in Yosemite National Park. More than the grandeur of its granite cliffs, it is its pine forests that resonate in my soul. The trees of the eastern Cascades resemble those of the Sierras in California. The species of pine are different but the smells of the needle strewn forest floor and the airiness of the pine canopy invoke memories of my youth.

Our families are compatible. We have vacationed together for 15 years or more. Normally, we rendezvous in August at the same Central Oregon resort. Due to graduation, this year we chose the week before Memorial Day when we were already gathered together on the west coast. The weather was not conducive to swimming or other summer activities. Instead, we bundled up for long walks, read books, and played parlor games in the evening. All in all, we found the time equally relaxing without the sunburn.

Back home, the lushness of spring, enhanced by late showers, gave our property a hint of abandonment. Weeds advanced on my perennials. Knee-deep grass on the lawn begged to be mowed.  I eagerly set about catching up on outside chores.

Flowering tree in my yard

Once I minimized the look of neglect in my gardens, I sat on the porch with my cat, Spanky. We basked in the sun’s warmth, sheltered from the breezes. Together, we watched as the wind wove tapestries amongst the burgeoning trees, entwining the branches on the rise of a gust, and then untangling the mass as the current lapsed. I had enjoyed our time on the road but it felt good to be home.

In addition to these domestic comforts, my mood is buoyed by recent events from the world of multiple myeloma. I have dealt with this blood cancer for 3 1/2 years. The sense of its passive/aggressive nature is palpable. In some patients, treatments struggle to hold back the progression of the disease. In others, for reasons not clearly understood, the cancer dawdles; it shows little enthusiasm to proceed as long as care is provided. In the last ten years, vigorous research into remedies made significant improvements in the lives of those patients in the 2nd group.

The first event that gave me hope came from the International Myeloma Workshop held in Paris. Long-term studies indicate that revlimid maintenance treatment following a stem cell transplant extends remissions. Furthermore, the data confirms that patients undergoing this protocol live longer.

The second promising news about myeloma came from a speech given by Kathy Giusti, the CEO of the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation. She delivered the commencement address to the graduating class of the Harvard Business School, her alma mater. What I appreciate about her remarks is the affirmation that sound business practices can speed up the FDA’s regulatory process. Treatments move from the bench to the bedside in years, not decades. Research for solutions to MM thrives under her excellent leadership.

Bridge sign: Don't jump to conclusions.

My cancer is stable. During the last two cycles of treatment with revlimid, I did not experience any physical letdown. I sleep well. My energy is good. I work full time and pursue my favorite activities. I feel confident about my health, optimistic for my future, all the while wary of the staying power of multiple myeloma. If I can keep the disease out of my bones and kidneys, then I should be around for the graduation of Tillie’s younger brother, my nephew Joey. He’s got three years to go. That’s a realistic goal; one I expect to make.


Another wonderful stormy spring day.

Spring is putting on airs, choosing to arrive fashionably late. Each year our community celebrates its agricultural roots with Blossom Weekend. Normally, pear and apple trees, festooned with an array of white and pink blossoms, attract thousands of visitors. They arrive like bees, pollinating local merchants with disposable income. This year, nary a blossom presented itself. Instead, a cold windblown drizzle greeted the tourists. T. S. Eliot got it right when he said, “April is the cruelest month.”

It was two years ago in April, that I started back to work following a lengthy break to undergo a stem cell transplant for multiple myeloma. Other than periodic checkups, I have not missed a day. This January, I began a regimen of oral chemo with the wonder drug, revlimid. I take a daily maintenance dose of 10mg, three weeks on, one week off.

At the end of the last cycle, I experienced a significant drop in my energy level. For three days in a row, all I wanted to do was nap. At work, I felt as if I were walking uphill in sand. I attribute that slump to a low percentage of red blood cells. Soon, my energy picked up as my body replenished itself during the break.

Revlimid capsules

The drug has slowed the progression of my disease. Dr. M and I would like to see a further drop in the cancerous cells, which hold steady after months of slow growth. Accordingly, we will continue with this treatment into the fall as long as the side effects do not create more problems than the drug solves. The goal is to achieve another sustained remission.

Doubt, hope, physical side effects, remissions that tease us, and relapses that punish us; these are factors that make up the complicated equation of living with this blood cancer. I meditate about these things on my blog and my ruminations help me to work through the stress associated with a life threatening illness. The only thing, however, that truly alleviates the alienation of a cancer diagnosis is interacting with others undergoing the same experience.

Each month I attend a multiple myeloma support group hosted by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. The value of these meetings extends well beyond their educational promise. I leave each get together not only wiser but also spiritually refreshed. It never fails that I glean something from the two-hour session that changes the way I think about others and myself. This past week was a general meeting. Rather than listen to a medical expert enlighten us about the disease, the moderators asked each of us to give a brief history of our diagnosis, treatments, and something we had learned along the way.

One gentleman’s moment stood out. He recounted how a counselor encouraged him to participate in art therapy as part of his recovery from a stem cell transplant. This opportunity enabled him to renew his values with a focus on creativity, purpose, wonder, discipline, and courage. Then, he proceeded to introduce us to the Jewish concept of Dayenu.

The Rabbi Spanky

Dayenu is a song that is part of the Jewish holiday of Passover. The word “Dayenu” means approximately, “it would have been enough for us.” Essentially, the song is about being grateful to God for all of the gifts he gave the Jewish people, such as taking them out of slavery, giving them the Torah and Shabbat, and had God only given one of the gifts, it would have still been enough.

Attending a support group will not cure my cancer. Nevertheless, it does cure me of the dread that occasionally shadows my optimism. Catharsis often accompanies the sharing. We testify to our individual fears. We bear witness to what has been lost. In addition, we rejoice in what renews us. Together, we discover that no matter where we are with respect to the disease, diverse paths to affirming life exist. Sometimes we just need another to point the way.


Soon after the New Year I resumed my six-mile walks. Wet weather interrupted some outings; others surprised me with unexpected mid-winter sunshine. I work fulltime but my job is not physically demanding. Accordingly, these walks provide the best barometer of my health. This is especially so now that I have restarted drug treatment for cancer.

The before kitchen during demolition

Thus far, I seem to be managing the side effects of the oral chemo. The peripheral neuropathy in my feet has increased, pestering me with nerve pain. At times, it feels as if my feet are burning. I also experience muscle cramps in my lower legs. Both conditions, though, are transient; they come and they go.

If my support group is any proof, each presentation of multiple myeloma has its own temperament. Mine acts indifferently. Following my stem cell transplant, the disease remained stable for a long time. Dr. M and I watched over the last several months as the level of bad protein in my blood slouched along toward a relapse. We chose to begin treatment before the movement gathered momentum.

For oncologists, the bad protein, commonly called M-protein or the M-spike, constitutes the unique fingerprint for multiple myeloma. Remember, this is a cancer of the plasma cells in blood. Healthy plasma cells create antibodies to fight infection. Those antibodies reveal themselves in the blood as proteins.

Six weeks later

Proteins are the workhorses of a cell; they carry out the bulk of cellular functions. With multiple myeloma, the plasma cell/antibody/protein is abnormal. It occurs in conjunction with healthy plasma cells but provides no benefit. Instead, the switch for cell division is stuck in the “on” position allowing it to replicate itself at a torrid pace. Furthermore, the myeloma overrides the process of programmed cell death. Consequently, it floods the marrow environment, spills out into the bloodstream, and, well… there goes the neighborhood.

The recent death of Geraldine Ferraro underscores the tenacity of this disease. Ms Ferraro lived 12 years after her diagnosis. She utilized the prominence of her political career to advocate on behalf of all patients with MM. Ultimately, efforts to control the cancer’s prolific growth profile failed. Everyone in the myeloma community mourns her passing.

My personal disease profile continues its lethargic behavior. As I mentioned, the M-spike measures the concentration of the bad protein in blood. When tested two weeks ago, my number had decreased slightly. It’s too early to know if the new drug I’m taking caused the reduction. But I’m optimistic.

Spanky likes the heated ceramic tile floor

It’s easy to get hung up on one’s numbers. This is particularly so during the winter months when much of one’s activities are internalized because of the weather. The daily pill taking leading to each month’s labs kept reminding me of a reality it would be nice to forget.

Still, life goes on outside the internal workings of my blood. Recently, I found distraction from the tension of waiting for the periodic results. Our kitchen, long neglected, underwent a renovation comparable in degree to my stem cell transplant. We demolished the old and rebuilt it anew from the ground up.

We bought our home in 1978. It started out as a 600 sq. ft. bungalow but grew with our family. Over the years, we added one room after another, including a second floor. The kitchen, however, was always “next in line” for improvement. We had many setbacks to our good intentions: car repairs, college tuition, medical bills; it was always something.

Another view

Now, at last, the work is completed. The mild weather in January and February helped make the upheaval of our living space tolerable. We waited 30 years for this and six weeks of frozen dinners during construction seemed a small price to pay. In fact, the delayed gratification due to previous sacrifices only sweetens our appreciation of the finished product.

The kitchen overhaul had helped me to focus on matters other than my health. From hereon, spring will take over where the renovation left off. Yesterday, between rain showers, I scratched with a hoe at the perennial beds in my garden. Afterwards, my youngest son joined me for a therapeutic walk. All the medicine I need, at least for my soul, can be found in the verdant pastures, the activity of wildlife, and good company.

Myeloma Mondays #38: Jean from Brookline, NH

Another 30-Something diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma.

***To add your story to Myeloma Mondays copy and paste this questionnaire (click here) and send it in an email to phil at cancerkicker dot org. I would love to share your story!

Where were you born and raised?
I was born in 1970 in Massachusetts where I spent my entire childhood.Where do you currently live?
My husband and I and our 2 sets of twins (ages 7 and 10) live in Brookline, New HampshireWhen were you diagnosed and how old were you?
I was diagnosed on June 10, 2011. I was 39.Did you know what MM was prior to diagnosis?
I never heard of MM before my diagnosis.Is there anyone else your in family with MM?
No.What led to your diagnosis?
I suffered a broken sternum in January 2010. In addition, I had a plasmacytoma on my chest which was removed in May 2010. It came back on June 3 as a malignant tumor.How many times were you referred before actually being diagnosed?
Right after my results from the plasmacytoma I was referred to an oncologist. I received a bone marrow biopsy and it came back positive for Mulitple Myeloma.Where have you received treatment?
I received Dexamethasone, Revlimid and Velcade for 4 cycles at my local Oncologist office in New Hampshire. I received an Autologous Stem Cell Transplant under my Oncologist at Dana Farber in Boston, MA on 11/18/2010.Explain your treatment history:
7/2010 : Started RVD11/2010: Autologous Stem Cell Transplant2/2011: Will begin 2 cycles of RVD followed by Revlimid maintenance therapy.Why did you or your doctor choose a specific treatment?
It was in my doctor’s opinion that I was a good candidate for stem cell transplant because of my young age and physical health.What has been the side effects of the different treatments?
I have had minimal side effects from treatment. I had some mild peripheral neuropathy during my treatment with Velcade. However, I have not experienced any neuropathy since I stopped treatment. I had a lot of sleep deprivation from the Dexamethasone. Of course hair loss as well. I had my Melphalan dosage in November and I still have no signs of hair growth.What has been the hardest thing about your MM journey?
The hardest thing for me during my MM journey is the realization that I have an incurable cancer. I am trying very hard every day to treat this as a chronic disease, however MM is currently an incurable cancer. I am waiting to hear my M Spike results since my transplant. Physically I feel very strong and I have recovered quite well. I have had incredible energy to keep up with my kids since I have left the hospital. However emotionally it has been so difficult. I can no longer plan too far into the future. This is so difficult when you have 4 children who are growing and changing every day. Currently I feel like I am in limbo. I have spent the last 7 months fighting this disease with intense treatments. And now I am waiting to hear how effective the treatments have been and getting prepared to start treatment up again. It is very challenging to begin living my “New Normal”. I am hoping that someday I can wake up in the morning without cancer being my first thought.What are the top lessons learned that you would want a newly diagnosed MM patient to know about?
A supportive family and friends will get you through some of your darkest days. It is so hard at times to ask for help. But learn to ask. My community, family and friends have been so supportive with meals, babysitting, and prayers.How have you been able to stay positive and encouraged in your MM journey?
My children and husband are the reason I am doing so well today. They give me such strength. Children are wonderful distractions and show such resilience. In addition my friends and family have given us such support and love. While I was in the hospital my husband and children received so much support. I was able to focus on me and my health because I knew they were all in good hands. I continue to be encouraged by other people’s stories. I constantly read other people’s blogs and surround myself with positive people.After being diagnosed… What perspective was changed the most?
I would have to say appreciating the true beauty in all the little things in life. It is so easy to get caught up with our busy lives. I no longer take for granted all the little blessings in life like hearing my kids giggle or sharing special moments with my kids. I no longer focus on what I want in the future, but rather, enjoy all that I have today. Taking time out to spend with each of my four kids, my husband, friends and family that is everything to me.Did you or a parent work in a field with or were exposed to toxic chemicals prior to diagnosis?
No.What MM sites or blogs had you found good information from after diagnosis?
Of course Multiple Myeloma for Dummies, Pat’s Place at Myeloma Beacon and Julie’s Myeloma Moments. Also I have blogged my journey at***To add your story to Myeloma Mondays copy and paste this questionnaire (click here) and send it in an email to phil at cancerkicker dot org. I would love to share your story!