March Anniversaries

Tomorrow is March 15th, the Ides of March.  In history, the Ides of March is best remembered in the play Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.  In the play, the soothsayer - a fortune teller - warned Caesar to beware the Ides of March for it would be an ill-fated day.  And you may recall that indeed it was, as Caesar was stabbed to death by members of the Roman senate.

Jump ahead hundreds of year to March 15, 2011.  No soothsayers around that I could see and yet it turned out to be an ill-fated day for me.

On the morning of March 15th, I dragged my very tired body to a doctor's appointment.  I was greeted by a nurse who said, "You look awful!"  The doctor followed and said, "You look like you have jaundice."  Hmmm.  I wasn't wearing make-up and my vacation tan had faded, but did I really look that bad???  I obviously hadn't noticed.  After blood tests and an exam, I was sent home to await the results.  The call came at the end of the day - "It's not good news. Your blood counts are extremely low.  You need to go immediately to the ER.  They're waiting to give you a transfusion.  You need this transfusion."

I wish I could recall what I was thinking, but so much has occurred in a year's time that I just can't recall every detail.  I do remember going to the ER with Joe, and my sister Cindy arrived soon thereafter.  They sat with me as the transfusion began and stayed with me for hours.  As it was decided that I would be staying overnight and having another transfusion, Cindy left and I was brought up to my room.

And that was the beginning of my new life.  Yes, oh yes, beware the Ides of March.

Speed up a week - March 22nd - I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma.

Speed up another week - March 29th - I had my first chemo treatment.

As I've drawn closer to March 15, 2012, I've spent a fair amount of time reflecting on this past year.  I can hardly believe where the journey has taken me this year.  How many days and weeks did I go to the oncologist, snuggle into a recliner, cover myself with an afghan, and have Velcade and Dexamethasone pumped into me?  How did I manage living with a picc line, a port, a hickman line?  How did I get through the Cytoxan and the Melphalan?  How did I deal with the numb face, the sore and swollen hands and feet, the hair loss?

And the stem cell transplant.  The significant post-transplant restrictions.  The mask and gloves. The memory impairment.

I look in the mirror each morning and I'm reminded of how difficult the year was.  "Who is that woman looking back at me with the very curly black and very gray hair?  She looks so old."

I've been through a lot in a year.  I've been through a lot.

I try to hold on to what a fellow Multiple Myeloma blogger quotes in his blog:

"..I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it

is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the

secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or

hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through

Him who gives me strength." Phil 4:11-13

I recognized this in the woman reflected in the mirror with the very curly black and very gray hair who looks so old.  She is strong.