I fed the birds all winter long. I scattered seed and hung suet cages. A multitude of sparrows, juncos, and chickadees visited during the dreary time of mid-winter.
As the days lengthened in March, more colorful species began to arrive. Gold finches and their rosy cousins brightened the budding lilacs. They stopped by for snacks on their way to homes in the forest.
In April, larger birds congregate. Patterns of behavior emerge. A half dozen mourning doves visit early in the day. They take turns. One of their group perches on the branch of the flowering cherry, another sits atop a nearby shed. They act as sentinels, on the lookout for a predatory hawk who nests in the neighborhood.
At dusk, a covey of quail appear. Their claws churn the surface, plowing, discing the earth for hidden seeds. They devour the day’s leftovers. Before leaving, they huddle together to discuss an exit strategy. Soon, a single quail leads their departure. They vanish into the shelter of shrubs.
Recently, I freshened the hummingbird’s feeder in anticipation of their return. They begin nesting when the weather turns mild. What I’ve yet to see are robins, the venerable harbinger of spring. It won’t be long. Everything in its time …
So it is with my cancer, Multiple Myeloma. The time has come to stop all treatment. My final infusion was in February. I’m done with chemotherapy, steroids, and oral medications. The relevant labs that monitor my health now trend in the wrong direction. The last drug cocktail failed. There are no more.
Throughout the winter, we tried to improve my blood counts. First, an infusion of RBCs. Then, a couple liters of iron along with oral supplements. But, nothing worked. The result: chronic shortness of breath. I have other issues. However, nothing gets your attention faster than SOB. Obviously, malignant plasma cells are over populating the bone marrow space. They crowd out healthy blood cells. This leads to systemic problems.
It’s not a surprise. I’m not disappointed or defeated. I’ve known this day was coming. I’m ok with it. Actually, it’s kind of liberating. For now, I feel decent. To look at me you would not know I am sick. But, I am.
Emotions sometimes cast shade upon the moment. But the sunlight of gratitude shines through. I’ve no unfinished business. Good fortune sprinkled its pixie dust on most of the trails I chose to follow in life. So, we wait to learn what the myeloma will do. Will it be aggressive or passive?
What’s to be done in such a situation? Well, I’ll continue to walk with friends on the waterfront. We’ll gossip and complain about current events. I’ll still plant and nurture flowers in the garden. And, I’m looking forward to a spring full of the grandkid’s sports. I’ll enjoy ordinary things. That’s medicine I can count on.
Good Blood, Bad Blood 
YOU’RE TRULY AN INSPIRATION, JOHN.
LikeLike
Hey Larry. Love ya man.
LikeLike
John, This was medicine for my soul. I will keep you in my universe and please keep me posted on your thoughts. Craig has been diagnosed with Alzheimers and we are leaning toward’s Lewy Body being the cause. Long goodbyes can be joyful and sad. I try to keep them in balance. The garden will help and today I am going to get flowers for the deck. Let’s be joyful for what we have……right? That is my mantra. Your writings bring me joy. Thank you John and stay normal!!!! Love, June
June Cooley junecools@gmail.com
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi June. I like your mantra. Peace to you as you find balance.
LikeLike
A beautiful piece of writing, John. It’s heartbreaking and yet heart-filling as well. To reach a point in life where you grapple with the inevitable and are OK with it, at peace with it, is a goal I believe everyone aspires to reach. I know I certainly do.
As always with your posts, I find words you write that inspire. After my heart skipped a few beats reading your news, reading this: “I’ll enjoy ordinary things. That’s medicine I can count on…” also brought me peace. Yes, this medicine is the extraordinary things a life fully lived brings.
I admire what you have and how you see the world, especially the prose in which you describe the beauty of your life. The simple, ordinary things make it all worthwhile – appreciating the birds and wildlife with those around you and being able to share such moments with others. Thank you for teaching me a bit more about living a good life – and for sprinkling a little of your pixie dust on all those you connect with. Take care, and enjoy your Hood River spring and those beautiful, ordinary things.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Randall. Thanks for your kind words.
LikeLike
Dear John – thank you for the light you have brought into this world. Thank you for being one of the good ones. I’m so grateful to have you in my life. Your kindness over these past few years has meant so much to me. I’m so honored to have been a part of your journey. I’ve learned so much from you.
Yes, the extraordinary is in the ordinary. I saw and heard a robin on my walk just a few minutes ago. I smiled and thought to myself “I’m not sure there’s a sweeter birdsong”. The song of nature’s resurrection. May the peace you feel grow with each moment, each breath, my friend. ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Julie. We think alike about the natural wonders that surround us. Glad the weather has softened and you are getting out to see and hear the birdlife.
LikeLike
I will miss your songs, John and your writings. So many good memories shared of cats, trips with family and friends, waterfront walks, and grandchildren. May you rest in peace and for those of left behind, we have been richer knowing you and hearing your voice and seeing your strength. We wish you well on the next journey. Lark
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Lark. Nice to hear you have enjoyed the memories I share. You and I have shared some of the same memories.
LikeLike
Apologies, John, for taking so long to respond. It took me a bit to get my head, and heart, around this.
Sometimes when friends or family are dealing with tough issues you want to help them find a way to get thru it. But you are way ahead of all of us on this. All we can do is make sure you feel the love that is coming at you from all directions.
Your plans sound perfect. Nature, family, music. We’re still hoping to get down your way in the months ahead to see Ike’s house and share some time with you and Mare. May the future be sweeter, and longer, than you imagine.
Arl
LikeLike
Thanks Arl. I feel the love. Doing well at the moment. Would love to see you and Kevin this summer. Hope you are well.
LikeLike
John I don’t know if you remember but we met back in 2007 at a Myeloma conference in Seattle. I’ve always enjoyed your writings and watch you closely as we both started our journeys around the same time. I have the same neuropathy problems and such. From the guy you met all those years ago I wish you god speed and comfort from this point forward. Great life lived.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Chris. If my memory serves me right, you were a fire fighter. I’m glad to learn you are still around and contending with MM. I’m doing ok, at the moment. Thanks for your good wishes. 🙏
LikeLike
John,
Thanks for the “pixie dust” you spread with your words and music. My favorite quote is “Be a person on whom nothing is lost.” by Henry James, and I love Warren Zevon’s advice “Enjoy every sandwich.” You seem to embody both of these bits of wisdom. You are truly one of the best persons I know. (no hyperbole) Enjoy your nature time & your grandkid times!!
LikeLike
Thanks Ginger. I appreciate the kindness of your words. You, Nancy, and I have encouraged and inspired each other with our writing and friendship!
BTW, watched Granddaughter’s softball game yesterday afternoon. A gorgeous Northwest evening. 70 degrees and no wind. Her team won and she got a pivotal hit late in the game. 👍
LikeLike