. . . . The adventures of an ordinary guy making his way through an extraordinary, and often times challenging, world. Please feel free to share your pearls of wisdom with me. Take courage shipmates. Land is in sight!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
the last four years I have 'stoically endured with a smile' (my wife's
words) 16 bone biopsies and bone marrow aspirations, surgery to repair
collapsed vertebrae, lots of fractures, major high-dose chemo, and much more during my treatment for multiple myeloma. Many of you have done the same.
think that I wouldn't have been nervous to have a simple dental cavity
filled on a recent afternoon in Springfield, MO. Not an extraction or oral surgery, I wasn't worried about osteonecrosis of the jaw (ONJ), a serious condition which can lead to bone death in the jaw. It was just a tiny cavity. You'd think that I wouldn't be nervous, BUT...
The last cavity I had was 23 years ago. Same tooth. The new cavity was
seen on x-rays underneath the old filling. Was I afraid of pain? No.
Afraid because the dentist eerily resembles Steve Martin a la Little
Shop of Horrors? No. Afraid of the noise, the smell, the whatever? Nope.
Why was I nervous? Well, because 23 years ago, as my former
dentist, a big, burly, long-maned Greek, leaned over me to administer
the first novacaine injection, the little-round-stool-on-wheels he parked himself on, shot
out from under him like a bottle rocket as he proceeded to poke me in my
right eyebrow with the needle. Yep. I can still hear him scream like a
When my wife and I began going to a new dentist
several years ago, I shared this story with the hygienist who laughed
with me and assured me that nothing like that ever happened at their
As she walked toward me with the tray full of dental
implements to prepare for the check-up, she tripped on, yes, the
little-round-stool, and showered me with picks and files and explorers
and cinnamon polish, and the like.
The only thing that happened today was my fleeting panic when the dentist muttered: 'What is wrong with this chair?'
Somewhere there is a Sean Murray voodoo doll, sitting on a
little-round-stool, with needles stuck in its stoically smiling mouth. I wonder if it has myeloma, too.
Although I've enjoyed a fun career in the Creative Arts/ Entertainment Industry, the most important part of my life is that I'm husband to my best friend, Karen, father to two terrific kids and friend to a larger-than-life band of zany, creative, and wildly supportive group of people. Life took a dramatic twist in November 2008 when I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma. But never fear - humor, a positive attitude and faith are very powerful forces!