August 2024 will mark the 20th anniversary of my autologous stem cell transplant. A year prior, my oncologist had informed me that after having had monoclonal gammopathy of undetermined significance (MGUS) for about 12 years, it had finally become multiple myeloma.
My biggest anxiety was how to share the news with my son. I am a single parent and my son and I have always been very close. How could I make the news that I had a terminal cancer seem less threatening?
Finally, I plucked up the courage and shared my news with him. He listened, expressed his sympathy, hugged me then asked what he could do to help. And help he did. He started by cleaning the house from top to bottom. The floor was so shiny that it shimmered. He cooked and washed went with me to my appointments. The fourth day after the end of a chemotherapy cycle, he took me out for a steak dinner as my taste buds were returning to normal.
He was not comfortable talking about my cancer, but to this day, he is still nearby doing whatever is necessary. I never thought that it would be possible for me to love him more than I already did, but I do. He is my reason for living. When I’m feeling down, I think of him. I want to feel better, so he won’t have to worry about me.
I remember telling my siblings who lived nearby about my diagnosis and asking them not to share my news with our mother because I was afraid of how it would affect her. My oldest brother and his wife had some understanding of what I would go through during my treatments as years earlier she had been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma. This gave me some measure of comfort as she was still fighting her battle with cancer. If there was anything that I did not understand or was uncertain about, I could talk to them. I followed their suggestion and sought a second opinion from her oncologist but decided to keep seeing my oncologist as I had built a good rapport with him and knew that I could trust him. I also went with them to a blood cancers group meeting where a member gave me one of the most valuable pieces of advice on dealing with cancer.
“Lorna, surround yourself with positive people,” she said. “You are fighting for your life. You don’t have time for negative people.” Twenty-one years later, I’m still following her advice.
My sister — who ironically has since passed from cancer — and her son, were also among my guardian angels. They filled in when my son was unable to take me to appointments and were invaluable helpers in other areas. I could always talk to them. Best of all, I could laugh with them. I was just a person, not a cancer patient.
My faith in God also played a role in my battle with cancer. After initially receiving my diagnosis, I wondered why it had to happen to me, but after immediately the answer came back, “Why not you? You have a terminal cancer, but there are many people in the world with even bigger problems. You can deal with it.” I determined that by the grace of God I could deal with it. Through my long journey with cancer, my faith has carried me through and has made me even stronger.
After receiving my diagnosis, I continue teaching eighth grade English while receiving my initial treatment of VAD (vincristine, doxorubicin and dexamethasone). I did not realize how much it was affecting me until the other core subject teachers on my team, whom I had told of my cancer, informed me that our students had noticed a change in me and were concerned.
After a discussion with the principal, we decided to hold a team assembly and inform the students. I can still see myself standing in the cafeteria facing the students with my protector’s standing behind me with arms folded. After hearing the news, the students were concerned and asked many questions about my health and if they could be affected. Here my teammates stepped in to reassure the kids that cancer was not infectious, and, in fact, I had to be careful to not catch anything from them as my immune system was compromised. My protectors as well as the other English teachers in the school watched over me like a mother hen with her chicks. They took over a lot of my duties and even volunteered their sick days which unfortunately the county would not allow. When my hair started falling out, I asked my son and my nephew to shave my head. The next day my bald head drew a lot of attention. The following day my core team teachers all came in with bald heads. Now we all drew the attention of everyone in the building. I loved them for their support and loved the fact that so many people cared about me. I was not alone in my struggle.
During my transplant, I could not be alone, so my son took me to the cancer center at eight every morning but got off too late to pick me up in the evening. Another friend from school organized a pick-up tree among the other teachers at the school. Someone would pick me up from the center after school, take me home, and stay with me until my son got home. After transplant, when I returned to work, someone would take me to the center where my son would pick me up or take me home and stay with me until my son got home. My friends are still in my life, and we meet on Fridays for breakfast. They are still there for me whenever I need help.
The love and compassion that my family and friends showed me during this time is almost incomprehensible. Without them my multiple myeloma experience would have been quite different. I am so thankful to have them in my life.
This post was written and submitted by Lorna Morgan. The article reflects the views of Morgan and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.
For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.
