Good Blood, Bad Blood

Postmortem

In the late winter of this year, I struggled with the treatment for my blood cancer, multiple myeloma. It consisted of three ingredients taken over the course of a 28 day period. My quality of life, due to side effects, was poor. I’d toughed it out over seven cycles, but the drugs did not suppress the cancer. Then, as I wondered what might be next, I contracted pneumonia. I endured five uncomfortable days in the hospital. While there, I had an epiphany.

I’d been fighting myeloma for 17 years. I’d tried numerous protocols, most of which led to a positive response. Patients with a strong constitution, such as myself, can battle the cancer for quite awhile.

Myeloma, however, is tenacious. There is no cure. The disease adapts to treatment. It figures out a work-a-round with each successive drug cocktail. When it reasserts itself, oncologists move on to another plan. And, there exist many drug combos and procedures from which to choose. The caveat was that I’d tried them all. The medicine cabinet, which once seemed full of remedies, was empty.

The epiphany? Enough is enough. The time had come to stop treatment. But, instead of feeling constrained by the lack of options, I felt liberated. My sanguine personality was at peace with the inevitable.

In a followup with my PCP, we discussed Oregon’s Death With Dignity Act. I opted to pursue the procedure. A subsequent visit with my oncologist supported my decision. I chose to take control of my dying. We told our sons and daughter-in-law. This gave them time to digest the mortal realities. We asked that they keep the info private. We told no one else.

I live in a small town. Word spread that I’d stopped treatment. Rumors arose. Some wondered, “Is hospice involved?” No. “Are you in pain?” No. Still, people reached out. “Can I visit?” some asked, or, “How about a coffee date?” My introversion rebelled at the likelihood of awkward discussions and I conveyed reluctance about these casual entreaties.

So, what am I doing? Committing suicide? Am I being selfish to those who love me? Am I copping out? Such were the conundrums created by this unique situation. I never found definitive answers to the questions they posed. You must come to your own conclusions. I resolved to move forward with the plan.

My wife and I made arrangements. We did a sitting for family photos. I prepped notes to say some goodbyes. We made an appointment with Hood River’s funeral home. We gave them a date. We chose cremation. I participated in preparations for the pending Celebration of Life. I laughed at the irony of helping to write my own eulogy, not to mention this postmortem message.

To those offended by my withholding the news about Death With Dignity, I understand. But, so it goes with secrets. They may create division. At the same time, they have a purpose. I wanted to keep things close to protect my family. They should not have to defend my decision.

The Death With Dignity Act has strict criteria. Some consider it controversial. Others find it an opportunity to relieve both physical and emotional suffering. There is no right or wrong answer. The choice is yours. I made mine.