Myeloma Maintenance Anniversary

Time flies when you’re having fun!

And time, as we Multiple Myeloma patients know all-too-well, is a precious commodity. We all want more of it! And some of us are picky enough to want a good quality of life, too.

I wouldn’t characterize fighting Multiple Myeloma as a fun-filled joyride to a picnic, but the two years that I’ve squared-off against this formidable foe have passed rather quickly. Maybe it’s my quirky attitude which has allowed me to see the highlights among the low lights.

Or maybe it’s the Oxycodone! Just kidding – it’s probably a combination of a lot of things…and the Oxycodone. Hey, ibuprofen hasn't worked well on my collapsed vertebrae and other broken bones! 

If I’ve learned anything while being the protagonist in this chaotic, life-changing mess that I’ve gotten myself into, it’s been to grab hold of and celebrate the seemingly small, positive things that happen along the way.

Yesterday, I quietly commemorated my first annual anniversary of weekly Velcade® infusions, a 21 days per month regimen of Revlimid® capsules and once-per-week dexamethasone tablets taken to chase the Velcade®. This Velcade® infusion is administered with high hilarity and pomp and circumstance (and great skill) by the terrific oncology nurses at Skaggs Cancer Center in Branson, Missouri.     

As Dr. Barlogie, Dr. Nair and the world-class MIRT team guided me into a complete response (CR) through high-dose chemotherapy and stem cell transplants, I knew that everything wasn’t a ‘done deal’.  I saw the wisdom in continuing to batter MM with the VRD arsenal.

After roughly 16 or 17 months in CR, we continue to use this combination of novel chemotherapeutic maintenance agents, and quarterly infusions of the bisphosphonate Zometa®, to keep up the onslaught. These guys are trying to find a cure for my MM. I love them for it.

Whether you believe in the maintenance therapy scheme (some practitioners don’t), it has kept my M-spike at 0.0 and my side effects have been tolerable. While Revlimid® and Velcade® have lowered some of my blood counts, I generally feel good, not 100% like when I was 21 or 31 or 41 for crying out loud, but not too bad at 51. I have very mild neuropathy, not enough to dictate a dosage or medication change.  What we in the Myeloma world don’t yet know is whether maintenance will impact my overall survival time.

Clinical trials and errors (that’s what I said!) will get us ever closer to the answers we seek about all aspects of Myeloma treatment. I’m happy to help, in my small way, to ensure that we keeping moving ahead.

I am grateful to the pharmaceutical companies and their researchers (and the FDA oversight!) that have developed the drugs I use in maintenance. Thanks to the Celgene Corporation for Revlimid®, Roxane Laboratories Inc. for the generic Dexamethasone and to Millennium: The Takeda Oncology Company for VELCADE®.

Do I wish the medicines were less expensive? Yep! Am I grateful to my insurance companies for working with me to be able to better afford these wonder drugs? Absolutely! Am I aware that they both want to make money? You bet! If they don’t make money, they don’t develop Myeloma drugs and cover these orphan cancers. 

Anyway, one year of maintenance down, two more to go! Maybe by then we will have discovered that diet coke and pizza, consumed in exacting quantities, will provide a cure for MM. I want in on that trial. At least I hope that they don’t find that that magic novel gastric agent combo is what caused it!


Back to Little Rock next week for my latest three month check-up. MRI, bone & bone marrow biopsy, gene array, blood work and a Dr.'s appointment.. Maybe I'll run into some of you there.   

Be good out in Myelomaville! Keep fighting!

Sean

Myeloma Beacon Total Therapy Article

My Myeloma Beacon article thoughts on Total Therapy at UAMS.

http://www.myelomabeacon.com/news/2010/11/02/seans-burgundy-thread-my-adventures-through-total-therapy/


See you around in Myelomaville!

Reliving the Old Days... Sort Of

I received a warm, beautifully written note via a Facebook personal message a couple of  weeks ago.

John described his new home on the Atlantic coast of Florida and how well his kids were doing in their young work lives. Theresa, his wife, had taken early retirement from many years as an executive assistant with a marketing company and was looking forward to volunteering in their new community. John said that she was even prettier than she was in college.

He went on to express how sorry he was that I had been battling Multiple Myeloma. He looked MM up on the internet and he lamented how difficult it must be to face a situation like this, but if anyone could get through it, it would be me. I was always the strong one in the group.

He then recounted that I was the instigator of the practical jokes (remember the Sigma Nu party?) and good times we had in our undergraduate days at Florida State University and how much he had thought.....

WAIT!!

I didn't go to Florida State University! Come to think of it, John and Theresa's names didn't at all ring a bell. Sigma what? I know that chemo brain did interesting things to me, but as far as I know, I haven't suffered any amnesia or loss of identity.

I sent a message to John thanking him for his thoughtful note recounting the 'good old days' and how much fun it was to read, but...

I also gave him the good news that his friend from yesteryear, Sean Murray, most likely didn't have MM.

A couple of days later I got nice follow-up message from John and, apparently, Theresa thought that my picture looked a lot like John's old buddy, Sean. The mix-up was put squarely on the shoulders of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend. John thinks that Theresa has too much time on her hands. A good laugh was shared by all!

The good news is that the other Sean Murray does, indeed, not have Myeloma.  Looking forward to hearing those same words about this Sean Murray some day!



Stay connected out there in Myelomaville!

Staying Connected While Living with Myeloma

Here's the link to my latest article in the Myeloma Beacon: 

http://www.myelomabeacon.com/news/2010/10/05/seans-burgundy-thread-staying-connected-to-yourself-while-living-with-multiple-myeloma/

I've had a very busy stretch recently, looking forward to posting some more blog nonsense soon!

Be well!

Sean

Making Light of Myeloma

Over the last couple of days I have been 'bashed' by a blog reader, via e-mail, for speaking 'lightly' about Multiple Myeloma.  Maybe it was the 'Hillbilly/ Moonshine / Revlimid  Parody' or something else. I wanted to share this experience with you, not for your support, but just to let you see how some people approach life when MM is foisted upon them. Somehow, I thought that this day would come.

She wrote this to me: 'Don't you understand what a dreadful, destructive disease myeloma is?'  'Don't you realise that people are dying from this?' 'This is no topic for... (humor)..'  And so on.

My response included the following thoughts:

Multiple Myeloma, as viewed in a vacuum, isn't funny. It is a destructive cancer. But there are many ways to deal with this diagnosis. I've made my choice. It may not be right for you and that's okay. 

Yes, I know all-to-well the darkness of MM. I know first-hand the extreme physical and emotional pain it delivers. I know how devastatingly expensive fighting this disease can be.I am no stranger to the strain and stress MM puts upon my family, friends and all whom love me. I live daily with the medicine and their difficult side effects.I know the depression of not being able to work or to lift up my kids.

I have experienced the fear, confusion and uncertainty of where this is all heading. I have seen it in my mirror, on the loving face of my wife and on the faces of the hundreds of MM patients I've met in person.

I know what it's like to be a father of two young children, praying that I have an opportunity to see them grow up. Knowing them and being their dad has been one of the most powerful things in my life. Every day with them is a gift because I choose to see it that way. Would the thought of this blessing have been with me every day without being stricken with MM? Or would my busy life relegated such daily thoughts to the background?

I know the dreadful fact that I might leave my loving wife too early. I am a much better person for having known her, learned from her, loved her, and received her love and support. I want to grow old and cantankerous with her, dog-gone-it!   

In no way do I hold myself to the standard of being a Myeloma 'expert', as you suggest. I am only an imperfect participant in my own personal journey. I struggle to understand all of the facets of the malady and the efforts of my team to vanquish it. 

I reluctantly started this blog to communicate with my family and friends about MM and our family's battle against it. Nothing more. There are only 15 followers and a hundred or so visits to the page every day. One must not visit my site to feel that that they're doing what they need to do to successfully exhaust 'everything important about MM'.   In the world of Myeloma, MyelomaYoureloma is not on the list as a 'must do.' And I am perfectly fine with this fact. I have benefited from the encouragement and loving support of those whom have contacted me through this blog. Many of them are MM patients or caregivers and they buoy my spirits in important ways they may never know.

Dear lady, I believe that you have the right to think differently than I do. And that you have the right to contact me with your thoughts. I appreciate the fact that you've taken the time to do so. I believe that you are in INTENSE pain because your father is battling this evil disease and you, sadly, can't cure it. I can't either. My wife can't snap her fingers and make this beast go away. But I do believe that it will eventually be cured - and my doctors do, too.

One of the most prominent physicians in the MM world took my hand in his and said 'If I don't screw this up, Sean, you will be given many years of good life.' To which I replied, 'Well, don't screw it up! There might be a bonus in this for you!' He laughed. The other doctor in the room also laughed. Ooops, there goes my attempt at humor again. I'm built that way.

You don't know me, but I refuse to surrender to Myeloma.  I refuse to let it destroy my relationships and to steal the beauty, in the midst of the darkness, of the world around me. I refuse to succumb to the idea that I should be dying every day.  I am much more interested in LIVING every day. I refuse to let MM change my light-hearted look at the world. I refuse to deny that I believe that God loves me and that I can handle what I've been dealt. I will continue, in my own way, to reach out to my MM warrior friends.

We are all connected through something I call the Burgundy Thread.   Burgundy is the official color of Myeloma, or colour for my UK friends!, and in my imagination I see an invisible, unbreakable thread that connects us all together, whether or not we meet face to face. You are not alone. There are many people out there willing to offer you support, including me.


Your correspondence has moved me. Your choice, and your choice alone, is to keep visiting my sight and/or to keep in touch. I hope that you do. Lambaste me  if you must -  I can take it! I wish you the very best and will think about you and your father often as you move forward. 

Sean

Moonshine and Velcade

(OP- 8/26/10) Ozarky Hills, MO - In order to mitigate the high cost of Multiple Myeloma chemotherapeutic agents in this struggling economy, some of my Ozark native colleagues have stepped up to lend a hand by utilizing their considerably honed creative skills.

Local onkolojist and beverage distributor, Henry 'Doc' Hallow, MD (Moonshine Doctorate)  and his twin brother, Lenny 'Happy' Hallow, have devised a way to distill generic bortezomib using an ages-old moonshine making and animal rendering approach.

Happy is also spearheading a process whereby lenalalomide tablets are stamped out using ingredients native to the local hills. The only drawback so far is that they have an overwhelming perfume d' skunk. It is also reported that it is difficult to keep the fine animal hairs out of the products. Oh, and then there's the side effect that it 'may cause permanent blindness.'   

Billycade and Lennyalomide may not be covered by insurance or prevailing patent laws, but at 3 cents per serving, er.. dose, the price is right!

Calls to Millenium, Celgene, Blue Cross / Blue Shield and the FDA have not been returned.

Reporting from the back hills of Myelomaville, Sean Murray

** Disclaimer / Confession:  Hillbilly is not a derisive term and I use it with deep respect, although within this parody it is utilized for cheap laughs. The folks (mostly of Scotish, Irish and Scotch/Irish ancestry) that I've met living here in the Ozarks for the last 16 years have been hard working, intelligent, honest, open and friendly. No doubt, a lot like you always and me on a good day! 

People Are Talking!

This past weekend I took my 13 year old daughter and her friend to the movie theater to see Vampires Suck, a parody of Twilight, the latest-craze motion picture and book series. I couldn't bring myself to see the Vampire movie with 150 giggling teens, so I went to the new Angelina Jolie spy thriller, Salt, which began 20 minutes after the girls' flick.

Katie and her friend joined the Vampires' line and I queued up in the Salt line, 30 feet away from the girls.  And that's when I became an eavesdropper par excellence. 

'Isn't that the music teacher, Mrs. Murray's daughter?' the woman in front of me in the Salt line loudly asked her companion. 'Yes it is. I remember when they brought her here from Japan.' 'You mean China.' 'That's right, China.' 'She's very pretty.' 'Yes, she is. It's a shame about her dad.' 'Her dad? What happened?' 'He got some strange form of cancer or a brain tumor or something. I think he died last year. He was a lot older than her.' 'Oh, that is so sad. I hope that they are doing okay. You want some popcorn?'

'Excuse me' the first woman said to me,  'Would you save our place so that we can go to the concession line?' 'You bet!' The ladies returned just as the Vampire line started to move.

So many things were racing through my mind. The little devil on my shoulder said 'Have fun with this!' but the angel said 'Let it go!' As it turned out, I didn't have an opportunity to play any tricks.

As Katie moved passed me in her line, she said 'See you after the movie, Daddy!' 

I thoroughly enjoyed watching the ladies' faces  morph to brilliant shades of embarrassed crimson. Not another word was shared and they sat very far away from me during the movie.  

For the record, Karen and I are the same age and I don't have a brain tumor. I think.


   

Myeloma Vacation - Texas Style!

My wife, two daughters and I combined my latest 3 month Myeloma check-up in Little Rock, (where it was hot! hot! hot!) with a quick vacation trip to the even hotter, but always beautiful Texas city of San Antonio. After a scattered, everyone-everywhere summer, we wanted to enjoy a fun family event before school started back up. 

Karen, a 20+ year music teacher, and our 1st and 8th grade daughters would soon enough be bringing home reading assignments, creating quirky art projects, telling tales of how difficult it is in public school  these days (and that comes from Karen!) and, no doubt, inadvertently exposing me to colonies of ne'r do well school kid germs. 

But before all of that began,  we needed one last summer fling before getting back to the grind. Don't tell them, but I love the grind. Last summer, I was in the middle of chemo and more chemo, stem cell transplants and surgeries. I'll take the daily grind over  an infusion session any day!  

When everything was expertly packed  into our mini-van,, Karen would describe it as crammed,  we left the sweltering Ozarks and arrived in Little Rock roughly 4 hours later - just in time for the girls to swim in the hotel pool. I didn't swim because ...uh...Velcade, Revlimid, and Dex don't mix with blistering sun. Right? Even if they do, don't tell Karen. This astute reasoning has gotten me out of push mowing my several acre lawn all summer. That and vertebral compression fractures. Why I didn’t think of Myeloma 15 years ago, I'll never know!

Little Rock, AR    I arrived for appointments at UAMS's Myeloma Institute for Research & Therapy (MIRT) on Wednesday morning where I underwent comprehensive blood tests, a full body MRI, and a bone biopsy with bone marrow aspiration, my 10th or so. The goal was to see what the last 3 months of maintenance therapy had done for me or to me.

Because the highly specialized MRI machine that I was assigned was needed by a critically ill patient, I was asked to come back later that evening for a second MRI session to complete the ‘DWIBBS’ portion of the imaging test.

I thought that I was being asked to come back later when the 'dweebs' get MRIs.  A 'dweeb'  is an American (I suppose) colloquial term for a geek or a nerd. I admire those very bright, go-get-‘em MRI techs, but why do they have to go and insult a sensitive patient like me? Clearing up the confusion, I learned that DWIBBS stands for Diffusion Weighted Imaging with Background Body Signal Suppression of the whole-body. Oh, DWIBBS! Why didn't they just say so? Go ahead and DWIBB this dweeb!

 There were no appointments or tests on Thursday, so we ventured out near the William S. Clinton Presidential Library to tour the world headquarters of Heifer International, an amazing organization whose mission it is to work with communities around the globe to end hunger and poverty and to care for the earth. We have supported their efforts for several years, but had never visited with them.


Please go to  www.heifer.org  to see the tremendous work Heifer is doing. BTW, their corporate building is known as one of the 'greenest' office complexes on the planet.

One of the highlights of the trip happened Friday morning when had the pleasure of an all-too-brief visit with fellow MM blogger, Lina S. of   www.lsmyeloma.blogspot.com/ . Lina is in her last consolidation chemo round at UAMS before heading home. I happened to catch her pre-neutropenic and in great spirits. I must tell you, it was inspiring to meet Lina and her mother. Both vibrant, bright, beautiful, take-charge MM warriors. I wish the Lina Team the very best that life has to bring.

Later that morning Karen and I met with Dr. Bijay Nair to discuss my test & procedure results. I can't begin to tell you how much we like Dr. Nair and Dr. Barlogie, MIRT’s founder. I will certainly do this in a future post, as I feel a well deserved  S'Myeloma Award coming on!

Test Results   Drum roll please! I’m grateful to report that the results show that there is no evidence of plasma cell Myeloma in my bone marrow aspirate and biopsy. Serum and Urine Immunofixation results relate that I'm still in remission, in complete response. Thanks to my entire team at UAMS and thank you God for giving me yet more time to wreak havoc and try the patience of those around me. It is good to have purpose!

 
Texas!    After Friday’s appointment, we hopped into the mini-van and drove from Little Rock to Georgetown, TX to grab a hotel for a good night's sleep. We arose early in the morning and traveled the short distance to the Texas state capitol in Austin. After an impressive tour of the Capitol building, we got on the highway to continue our journey south to San Antonio.

Doug and Rita, our longtime friends now living in S.A., joined us in the early evening at the hotel's busy outdoor pool. The girls all swam as Doug and I caught up and enjoyed a libation (that's a drink, for all of my friends back in the Ozarks) in the comfortable, covered area adjacent to the pool. Curiosity, and hunger, took a hold of us as Doug and I walked over to the Whataburger, a chain neither of us had ever tried. On the way we mused about how the brand name is inflected. Is it WHAT? a Burger (conveying disappointment or surprise ) or is it WHAT A BURGER! (the endpoint on the exhilaration scale). The burgers were fine and a Diet Coke chased down my $381.00 Revlimid pill.   

On Sunday we drove to D & R's beautiful home and then headed to downtown San Antonio for some fun. We ate at a bustling Tex-Mex cafe on the River Walk, did some window shopping, toured the famed Alamo Mission (very interesting) and then bee-lined over to Sea World San Antonio.

Doug, Sea World’s V.P. of Entertainment, guided us to some of the park’s popular evening shows.  Karen, Katie and Liz had never been to a Sea World before and they were absolutely mesmerized by the love and care the trainers and staff had for the whales, otters, sea lions, walruses, penguins, dolphins and the other beautiful creatures. Many of these particular animals can't thrive in the wild and, contrary to what some would have you believe, they are exceedingly well cared for at this world-class venue. The educational outreach is second to none.

On Monday, Rita took my 13 year old, Katie, shopping and then we rendezvoused back at Sea World for a couple of more hours of fun. For dinner we gorged ourselves at the casual eatery Rudy's, branded as the Worst Bar-B-Que in Texas. Rudy's was HIGH on the exhilaration scale, by the way!  Good food! Then back to the hotel for the evening for more conversation, swimming and relaxation before saying our goodbyes.

I want to share that Doug and Rita's small family has endured several monumental health challenges with great courage and faith through the years. Spectacular family, fantastic kids, positive, active people. Their friendship is one of our most treasured gifts. It was healing to be with them.

Bright and early on Tuesday morning we said goodbye to Texas and began our 15 hour drive home to Missouri. Back to maintenance chemo, back to school, back to life with re-charged batteries.

Hope that you out there in Myelomaville have had some fun this summer. I'm thinking about and praying for you all! Keep fighting!

Sean

A Perfect Record Falls

You MM trekkers know that when you pop into the infusion center or doctor's office, they often ask you a set of customary  questions such as:  Have you experienced Fever? Nausea? Pain? Fallen?  I'd write Diarrhea, but I can't spell it. Bleeding? Dizziness?  Fatigue? Insomnia? and so on.


I have always been able to answer the questions without thinking twice. Sometimes I've had fevers, trouble sleeping, nausea, pain - most likely you all have answered 'yes' to these categories at one time or the other.

But the one question I've never answered 'yes' to was: Have you fallen? Until now!

A couple of days ago I stepped out to get the mail. The box is at the end of our two-house street, and as I set foot onto the somewhat damp lawn, gravity in conspiracy with an unknown assailant, struck. My legs shot out in front of me, time turned into a Matrix-like super slow-motion, my arms flailed out to my sides desperate not to be pinned under my girth, my Nike ball cap jumped ship, my glasses went sideways, and I landed on my back with a thud that should have measured high on the Richter Scale.

I was motionless for a few seconds as the blood rushed and pounded in my ears. I was just hoping that it wasn't rushing out of my ears!

I noticed that I could breath. And that I could see the partly-cloudy Ozark's sky and that nothing seemed to hurt too badly. I also noticed that I could hear the blue jay sitting in my cedar tree. Blue jays are territorial and they 'dive bomb' creatures that get in their space. I had visions of looking like a huge worm to this opportunistic blue jay. I've seen the Hitchcock movie. Better move before the pecking started.

I cautiously lifted up my head, I'll admit, to see if the neighbors were laughing at me or  if they had a video camera aimed to create the next YouTube viral video. I was alone. Except for the blue jay and the chipmunk that peeked out from behind the low rock wall. I swear that before he scurried away he said 'So sorry for your nasty spill, old chap, but you can't catch me now!'

Where does a hillbilly chipmunk get off calling me 'Old Chap'? 51 is not old! Although 1 human year is about 25 chipmunk years. I may not be able to catch him, but I will out live him.

It was then that I  remembered that I had Myeloma, a history of  a bunch of fractured ribs, shoulders, vertebrae, sternum, and more. In a split second, did I just undo surgeries, Zometa infusions, and anti-couch- potato rehabilitation?

My toes and fingers wiggled. I could move my neck slowly  from side to side. My arms bent reasonably from the elbows and then from the shoulders. Okay so far. I  bent my knees and moved my feet closer to my hips. I stretched my back with great care and didn't hear anything crack or pop. Hugging my knees, I sat up and looked over at my neighbor's house again. No $10,000 Home Video Prize for them! I gingerly rose to my feet, no worse for the wear. A quick prayer expressed my gratitude and I promptly forgot about the mail.

So next Wednesday at my weekly maintenance chemo session, I will be asked 'Have you fallen?'  And my answer will be....... 'You got a minute?' Or my pride might get the better of me and I'll say 'Nope.'

Be careful out there in Myelomaville!

 

How Am I Doing?!!!!

The folks that I run into in this part of the country, even the strangers, are inherently warm and friendly souls. They almost never fail to offer a

        'Hi, how are ya'?'

Firmly believing that, in many ways, we are a product of our choices, I have to make a choice on how to respond to the simple 'how are ya's' that come my way.   

           Maybe I could say what I'm THINKING:

'How am I? Now, I'm not complaining, BUT I've spent the last week being sick to my stomach. I have insomnia and I can't find a single sheep to count. Flu-like symptoms, neuropathy, poor appetite, foot and hand cramps. Without being too graphic, I have a runny nose, I feel like I've been run over and I'm running on empty. I've been regurgitating things I don't specifically remember gurgitating!

My insurance provider has changed for the second time since my diagnosis in November of 2008. Hope they cover my treatment. My Revlimid delivery was two days late because I have to use a new pharmacy approved by the new insurance company. It says right on the pill bottle '21 days on, 7 days off' - not 9 days off! My medication co-pays have tripled under the new plan. If they don't cover Revlimid it will be $7500 a month.

The new, personal-service insurance rep called me 'Scene Murphy' - my name is Sean Murray. Sean, like Sean Connery, the guy whom would kick your rear end if you called him 'Scene!' And it's Murray, not Murphy. Not that there's anything wrong with the name Murphy. My Irish grandmother was a Murphy - but my grandfather was a Murray. Good personal service starts with calling me by the right name.  


Because of the insurance change, I have to educate another dentist about MM and assure him that it is okay for him to clean my teeth even though I'm receiving quarterly Zometa infusions. Yes, I have heard of Osteonecrosis of the Jaw, but my jaw bone will not die if you, or your nice, but overly perfumed hygienist, don't accidentally rip out one of my teeth while you're trying to clean it.

And yes, even though I've had several rounds of high-dose chemotherapy, two stem cell transplants, a dozen bone marrow biopsies, three kyphoplasties to repair collapsed vertebrae, a filter placed in my inferior vena cava to stop runaway blood clots from killing me, lots of broken bones, hundreds of blood tests, and I am undergoing THREE YEARS of maintenance chemo, I'm not a tough guy. If I just happen to have a cavity, I pray that Dr. Newdentist gives me enough Novocaine to  deaden the pain, as I gave up biting on a bullet or slugging back whiskey from the bottle years ago. One time a dentist slipped in his chair and gave me a shot on my eyelid.    

Oh, and I had to replace my roof, my gutters are 5 weeks late, it's hot, Hot, HOT outside, my new puppy has mange, my glasses broke, the air conditioning on my family van isn't cooling well, I can't taste my food, and the weeds are preparing to quick-march an assault on the grass in the yard. And I have this thing called peripheral neuropathy that makes my hands and feet numb.

AND, I still have to drag my anemically exhausted body to my weekly maintenance chemotherapy sessions - only 122 weeks more to go!  

I missed church because I felt it was more important for the congregation to hear the minister's message than to try and decipher the Morse Code of my coughing fits. Three long sneezes, two short coughs, three long sneezes - SOS, Save our Scene, I mean, Sean!'

That's what I was THINKING. But what I chose to SAY was:

'How'm I doing? I'm GREAT! Life is an adventure and I'm glad to be here.'

And you know what? Life IS an adventure. Life with Myeloma is a chaotic adventure. God didn't promise me an easy path, but He sure made it an interesting journey. Yeah, I'm doing GREAT!

 Keep fighting out there in Myelomaville!