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Arnie’s Rebounding World: How Are You?

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Published: Dec 10, 2013 11:08 am

How are you?

Ah, one of the simplest questions in the world.  A common part of civilized speech, asked dozens of times a day.  It’s thrown around everywhere.

A quick reply of “Fine, and you?” and move on with your world.

As a cancer patient, I have become increasingly perplexed with this question and how best to answer it.  I am certain that we all face the same dilemma.

It is, of course, a loaded question, and the real answer is not simple.  It can be handled many ways.

Before formulating my response, the first thing I have to figure out is who is asking, what is the setting, and do they even care about the answer.

Every morning when I wake up, my wife asks me how I am doing.  It’s her way of gauging the ups and downs of my disease and treatments and to hopefully head off problems. She understands the implications of my treatments and where I am with my disease.  She cares about the answer.

As the circle becomes wider, moving from close friends to friends to casual acquaintances, answering the question becomes much more difficult.  Certainly, a few close friends care and generally want to hear the answer.  Even then, an honest explanation of where I am at is often met with glazed eyes or a far away look.

The answer is complicated; no one wants to hear complicated.  And definitely no one wants to hear bad news.

The reality is, although people may care to an extent, most everyone’s plate is pretty full with their own issues.   Outside of family, no one really has much room for someone else’s woes.

That’s okay; I understand that.  I’m no different.  I know that, in one way or another, everyone has something going on. While I am interested in how other myeloma patients are doing, I honestly can’t profess too much interest in my non-cancer friends’ sore shoulder from too much tennis or plantar fasciitis from running too hard.

Most people have already moved on after the question is asked, anyway.  Anything more than “I’m fine,” and you have lost their attention.

In a recent conversation with a friend, he asked how I was doing and my reply was “Pretty good.”  Knowing I had had a recent scan, he persisted, wanting to know the results.  “Well, actually, it was not so good,” I said.  “That’s good,” he said; he’d lost focus somewhere between asking and the answer.

The other thing to consider is most people are uncomfortable because they really do not know how to respond.   Is it even worth putting them on the spot to respond?  “Gee, I’m sorry,” “You’re tough,” “Hang in there,” “Let me know if there is anything I can do,” are all responses we’ve heard over and over.  My all time favorite is, “You’ll be fine.”  Really?  Says who?  Are they really saying that they’ll be fine?

Many patients take the approach of not disclosing anything, preferring to keep completely private with their disease.  This may be for personal reasons, preferring not to burden other people, or maybe for work or professional reasons.

C.W. Bill Young was a very prominent, long-standing U.S. congressman from my area.  He passed away recently, fairly suddenly, while still in office.  It turns out, he died from complications related to his multiple myeloma.  The thing was, no one knew he had multiple myeloma.  I’m just speculating, but apparently his answer was always, “I’m fine,” as opposed to something like, “These myeloma drugs are really kicking my behind.”

I try to take somewhat of a middle ground approach, again keeping in mind the person and the situation.  A quick “Doing fine,” “Feeling pretty good,” or “Still here,” is all that is needed in most situations and really all most people want.  Of course, there are a few close friends who want and deserve to know the full story.  Even then, I have to gauge how much is too much.

The real answer is, as I said, complicated. Sometimes I don’t even know the whole answer.

The good news is that despite a pretty rigorous regimen combining Kyprolis (carfilzomib), Pomalyst (pomalidomide, Imnovid), cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan), and dexamethasone (Decadron) for my extramedullary disease, I am feeling pretty good, with minimal side effects and good energy.

Since my disease in now nonsecretory, my M-spike and even light chains are of little value in following the disease.  I am forced to rely on PET scans to monitor my response to treatment.  In between scans, it is difficult to know how things are going.

The bad news is that my disease has progressed in spite of my rigorous drug regimen.

I am now exploring my next option.  Because of my situation, I am not really a candidate for any clinical trials.  With the help of my doctors, we are looking into getting access to new drugs through compassionate use from the drug companies.  We are also exploring genomics options; a tissue sample is being screened to see if my myeloma cells have any identifiable genetic mutations.  Hopefully, I will have more to report on this later.

Has everyone zoned out yet?

Arnold Goodman is a multiple myeloma patient and columnist at The Myeloma Beacon. You can view a list of his columns here.

If you are interested in writing a regular column to be published by The Myeloma Beacon, please contact the Beacon team at .

Photo of Dr. Arnold Goodman, monthly columnist at The Myeloma Beacon.
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  • Ranetta said:

    Thank you for a great article. It will help me put things in perspective. After reading it, I have decided to pause and decide what they are really asking for and give a response that is appropriate.

    I had to start treatment again after 2 years and many “close friends and friends” looked pretty bored with any response other than “fine”. I felt that what had been novel the the first time around was not that interesting this time. I lost several friends in the last 3 months, but looking back, I can see the difference between truly supportive and “going through the motions”. I am truly grateful for my “supporters”.

    Thank you again…

  • Gary said:

    Hi Arnie,
    Sounds to me like you are handling those “how are you” questions just fine. I try to remember that just a year ago I couldn’t tell you what Multiple Myeloma is or how it is treated; I had never heard of M-spike, Light chains, Revlimid, Velcade, etc. So I assume that almost anyone asking how I am are as uneducated about it that I was and I phrase my answers accordingly.
    The strangest conversation I had was last week with a past co-worker. She asked how I was and proceeded to explain that she was curious because her dog has cancer and she is trying to decide how to treat him. Her dog. Wow, somehow I managed to act concerned and curious and helpful. But really, her dog. Sometimes you just gotta find humor where you can.
    I read your columns and try to add an extra prayer for you. I am glad you have such a good team handling your care. Please continue to keep us up on your condition and progress, I promise not to zone out on you!

  • Nancy Shamanna said:

    Thanks for the great article, Arnie. You are a good example for us all, keeping us from getting zoned out really! It’s good that you are getting your ‘genomics’ done. That is another way of looking into the disease, and that you are applying for compassionate use of drugs. That happens here too, and the drug companies are good about releasing drugs even if they aren’t approved yet.

    That’s too bad that the congressman did not publicize his myeloma more, since he probably could have brought more attention to it. Given that it is still quite an ‘unknown’, rare sort of disease, we need the publicity! Take good care of yourself, and hope that you and your family have a nice holiday season!

  • Gii Siegel said:

    I am also non- secretory MM I try to stay in the moment of being positive
    Very difficult to await results of pet I have had 9 over 4 years so far all is well
    Today is anniversary of second SCT
    Stay Strong keep moving!

  • Gary said:

    Arnie: I think myeloma patients are always interested in the details. We are genuinely concerned if only in comparing treatments and toxicities.

  • brenda said:

    Thank you Arnie. You hit the nail on the head.You brought to light many contributing factors to someone Zoning” out. People only have so much “room” and understanding for others trials and tribulations.
    My new response to “how are you” (ever since tests indicate the MM appears to be slowly returning) is “Well Enough” vs Just Great!Everyone seems happy with that and so far it is true!

    Good luck with any new treatments to which you have access .Great you are having your genomics done. You have a good team behind you.I agree with Gary..those with MM are always happy and interested in hearing the details. Stay strong!

  • Rebecca said:


    Thank you so much for your insight into answering an individual’s questions about our health. You are correct that answering “I’m fine.” works for most if not all people with the exception of one or two friends.

    As for having zoned out it is very far from the truth.

    From a fellow patient.

  • Jan Vesseur, MD said:

    Thank you. I fully agree with you that the question is very difficult to answer. Mostly I answer very directly: according to the circumstances good, but the circumstances are not good. And then I explain my situation. However I am able to do almost as much I did before VCD, the HDM and ASCT, I realize my illness every second. I am not ill, but my illness is still there. People who ask me how I am has to know that. It seems to be confronting, but otherwise I have to be honest. When they say, you look good, then I have to say that my illness is still there and at the next control I may be confronted with a relapse. So looking good is not the same as feeling good.

  • Joyce Simonelli said:

    Thank you for a great article. I have been a myeloma patient for nine years and have gone from not answering questions to answering with a lot of detail to finding a middle ground. Many times I feel people only want to hear good news but many times the news I get is not good. It is hard to find a just right balance.

  • Kathy Farr said:

    Great article. You speak our language and no, I didn’t zone out! Keep fighting!

  • Ray Gunger said:

    Arnie – Excellent article. You touch on a lot of what I feel as well.

    I’m at a point in treatment where I’ve had induction, had 2 transplants and am in full remission, but I still have maintenance once per month. So overall, yes, I’m doing fine, but around chemo time, it sucks and I struggle.

    My other issue related to this that I’ve been having is feeling the need to hide how I really feel, or how it’s really going because people don’t want to hear the bad. Or does it come off as whining? Or are you putting them in a spot where they feel they need to address your crapiness/crabiness?

    Then if I don’t say anything, I sometimes feel bad because people don’t know/realize that I’m feeling crappy and am struggling due to whatever physical/emotional problem I’m having.

    Anyway, thanks for sharing. It helps knowing you’re not alone.

  • Stann said:

    Nice article Arnie. Sorry your situation is regressing–ouch.
    I think us humans are more self centered than we pretend to be.
    For public speaking the best advice I was given was “after 15 seconds, nobody really cares what you’re saying anyway. They are only thinking of their speech, so just relax”. I think that applies to your subject.
    Other than the real, real close people in my life, I brush it off. I don’t mind talking about my disease at all, but people only want to hear hopeful or positive news. Then they want to move on to a different topic.
    I think the worst thing that could happen to me would be for people to feel sorry for me.
    So I tell people that “things look great. I’m in a rough patch (if I am), but the future looks bright”. It’s what they want to hear, and it’s what I want to say. And I actually feel more optimistic after saying it too.
    Maybe there are medical advantages to being positive? If so, maybe that’s the evolutionary reason for wanting good news?

  • Sesha said:

    An absolute frank and honest insight into the grim world of fighting MM. I seldom talk or discuss the disease except with a few trusted
    friends and family and it is more than enough for me. Our Prayers
    together for a cure and better quality of life as the Almighty assigns !!!!!! best wishes

  • Michael Lapides said:

    Arnie, this article was absolutely great and the postings certainly reflect that a lot of fellow myelmoics feel exactly the same way you do. We all know about the ‘how to answer’ struggle. The good news for me is that I’ve been dealing with it for 9 years. It’s your last two paragraphs though that pin our ears back.

    What DO I tell my friends? I’m doing ok today but wasn’t so good last week. I just got cleared for a suspected malignancy so that was uplifting news but now I sit here waiting for an email to tell me what my blood panels look like. They do not get this stuff. Nor do they get how a disease can be a full time job for two people when you add it all up, scheduling treatment, getting to treatment, insurance issues, getting meds, seeing the onc doc and all the rest.

    I started keeping a list of good and not so good questions. Here’s a few from my list:

    Not good:

    You look good.
    (On the telephone) Your voice sounds great.
    One day at a time.
    Anything I can do, let me know.
    My mother had cancer…but she died.
    So you’re fine now?
    There’s a plan for you.
    We have to get together sometime.


    What is Myeloma? Would you help me learn about it?
    Can we meet on Friday at noon for lunch?
    Would you share with me what’s going on.
    Would you tell me what your treatment is like? I’d like to know.
    Tell me about _________.
    Can I drive you to treatment?
    We’re bringing over a meal tomorrow.



  • R said:


    A timely article. Full of accurate anecdotes of daily life with a chronic deadly disease . Thanks.

    I have a client, who is trying to claw his way back to his former self. He had a rare Rhabado tumor in his throat. They took one vocal chord and a good portion of his right throat/Tonsilar bed/ etc. Gave him 9 months straight of nasty chemo. 5 out of 7 days a week. Time off only to let his red/white cells return out of “non-existent”. Transfusions. Lots of PN. Lots of fatigue. lots of loss of Pulmonary function. His employer’s disability and Health companies are real pukes. He came to me with “Help” on his lips (He’s raspy). A Proud and strong single male, who raised 2 kids very well, by himself. A first time Grandpa–last month at 62.

    We often laugh and joke about the “How are you” drive -by question. How do you explain his cancer and my Multiple myeloma (“they just don’t know”)–especially when you can barely talk. It’s pretty disgusting really , what we both have experienced from “Normal Folks”. We both have become better listeners and we don’t blithely ask that question, nearly as much. When we do, we listen. Hard.

    We also say to each other–”You should be dead”. Kind of a private way of saying–Keep fighting, don’t let the bastards get you down. An acknowledgement that we have been thru things, few other people can really understand. People on this forum know it. People with MM know it.

    We actually get a mutual therapeutic benefit from our “conferences”. Work does get done, but the 15 or so additional minutes, spent in mutual re-enforcement is helpful. It is more than “Boot-camp” buddies at work–it is a true bond based on hours in treatment, aches and pains, never known before 2012, fatigue, lack of energy, disability, joint pain, loneliness, ennui, nauseau, Peripheral neuropathy, and the uphill struggle ….just to get thru the day.

    Amen, to your article. My Best to you. “You should not be alive”–HA !. Celebrate your stubborn resolve to live. Be well. Keep going.

  • Sue walls said:

    Thank you all for your honest descriptions of how MM has and is affecting you. I was told I have MM in July 2013 and after Revlimid, steroids, IVs of calcium and Wafarin, I am told I’m in remission. They explain much in medical terms but not so much about the continuing realities of long term impacts. I’m trying to stay positive, but uncertainty and fear keeps my head spinning.

    Overall, I’m doing good. Your comments give me more hope and inspiration. I look forward to hearing more. I’ve always felt it’s better to have some idea of what the future may hold than hit it blindsided. You have proven the value of that once again. My best wishes to you all!

  • LibbyC said:

    Great article Arnie. I am sorry to hear that your myeloma has not been controlled with all the “stuff” you have been through. I enjoy reading your articles; they usually generate a lot of discussion and I know that you have the energy to write the post. A couple of months back when your daughter wrote the article I must admit prior to reading it I did think “Oh No”.

    There are a couple of different ways I get asked “How are you?” and my response (like most) will differ.

    There is the Aussie way – a sort of form of greeting. The “how r ya?” is similar to “How’s it going Mate?” “U Good?” a simple nod of the head and a “Yeah” is really all that is needed. Definitely not interested in bad news. Probably not interested in any news.

    Another version of the above is “How are you going?” To which I reply “I’m getting there”. This answer seems to satisfy them and it is extremely rare to be asked “Where is there?” Sometimes I do add “I don’t know where there is – but I’m getting there”. They are usually not really interested in bad news.

    I have had one of the workers at the local fruit & vegie shop ask me “Are you back on treatment luv?” “Yes” I replied “Thought so”. It doesn’t take long for my face to respond to an increase in my steroid dose. :)

    Then there is the “How ARE you?” if this is in conjunction with the “funeral hold” (thats what I have nicknamed it – when they hold on to the top of your arm & give you a little pat – almost as if they are writing you off)my reply will be “Surprisingly well”. I think they genuinely do not want to hear bad news …. But if they do then they can tell their friends “its such a shame”.

    Friends seem to ask about what I have been doing not necessarily about how I am. Some of my friends are GPs & have a pretty good idea of how I am.

    When people ask “Lib, how are YOU?” I think they want to know how I am coping with the disease not necessarily about the disease.

    My husband and children will ask “Are you okay?” They usually ask this after they have heard me say something I probably shouldn’t say. Sometimes I might have hurt myself and I will be quick to reassure them.

    Occasionally I will come across the people who genuinely want to know about the disease or already do know the disease and want to know where I am at. Its easy to tell them.

    All the best,

  • Arnold Goodman (author) said:

    Thanks, everyone. I am loving all the different thoughts and responses to how people are handling the question. It’s something we all face, sometimes several times a day.

    Loved Gary’s story about the dog, and Micheal’s list of good and bad answers to the question really nailed it. Unfortuately, in 7 years I could probably could on one hand the number of times I have heard the good responses. And, as Stann noted, after 15 seconds no one is listening anyway; they are thinking of their speech.

    I also agree with Nancy’s comment about Congressman Young. My first response was the same. I wish he had been more open about his disease. It would have potentially been helpful to other myeloma patients. But he had personal (and probably political) reasons not to disclose his condition, and it’s also a very personal decision.

  • Christina said:

    It’s so true, everyone has stuff in their lives and really don’t want to hear bad news. Initially , I told almost no one. Now, almost nine years later, I tell who ever but say I’m still here! Or, I’m not dead yet!
    Hang in there! It’s a tough journey.(for all of us)!

  • Suzanne said:

    My husband, while waiting for a blood draw, overheard a patient reply when asked how she was feeling: “Every day above ground is a good day!” He has used her response every time someone asks him how’s he doing!

  • E.C. said:

    Dr. Goodman, ref your comment “Because of my situation, I am not really a candidate for any clinical trials.” Are you sure you would not be eligible for NCT01985126? It is a PH II trial of Daratumumab, and it has shown some great responses so far. I am enrolled in it, getting treatments in Charlotte; and there are several other participating sites around the country. — Thanks for the article. One of my best response to the “how are you doing?” seems be the old Dave Ramsay reply, “better than I deserve”, and it usually satisfies most people. I think most people want to show concern, but they don’t really want to hear much of the nitty gritty.

  • Emily said:

    I’ll always remember a response someone wrote in a Dear Abby letter for those folks who asked how they were doing, but when the letter writer really didn’t feel like sharing details: “Better for the asking, thank you.”

  • JC said:

    You hit the nail on the head. I am really struggling with knowing going back on treatments is ahead and what that means when dealing with people. It is like you have to help them deal with your disease because they can’t handle it. It becomes a load. I can handle MM, its the people that bring me down.
    My husband’s family thinks their problems always trump mine, they called daily during my transplant with concerns about his mom. And so my daughter came to take care of me so he could go home–it was more peaceful than the phone calls. In all the months of trips for chemo his family took me zero times. It got to the point I would just drive myself, because it wasn’t worth it to bother people. But that hour drive home was a killer some days. My kids are great support, but they have young families and I want them taking care of them. My extended family is great also, so I am more blessed than many with help. I hope I have learned from this. A friend and I make flannel quilts we give to those we know in the community that are dealing with cancer. We are often thanked in tears…for weeks and months to come…shows the hurt out there. I also have been able to take others to their chemo treatments. I know that when I ask, and they answer about how they are doing, a hug sometimes communicates better than words.

    Two quotes: The more I am around people, the more I love my horses

    And the other one from Psalms 41:6,7
    “Some people come to see me, but they lie. They just come to get bad news. Then they go and gossip.”
    I laugh every time I read that verse. Proves “There is nothing new under the sun”
    Thanks for letting me let off some steam!

    Probably shows I need a support group where I can be real about MM and not trying to help others deal with my disease.

  • Jan Stafl MD said:

    Great column and discussion Arnie! You serve our MM community so well, since these topics are applicable to all of us. I really appreciate everyone’s take on the queries about how we are doing. One variant I come across is talking to other physician colleagues. Some are genuinely interested in the therapies I am exploring and experiencing. So we have scientific details to discuss, which are fascinating. I wrote an article in our medical society newsletter for the second year, and have received much encouraging feedback.
    I can tell quite quickly if people are interested in the mental, emotional and/or spiritual response I have taken. For those who are, meeting for a meal or a beer has been mutually inspirational. We cannot change many of the challenges we face, but we do have control of how we respond to them. Happy holidays everyone! Jan

  • Eric said:

    Thanks for the article, it stirred much response to reflect on, and learn from. Here’s what I have learned.

    For me, the only people who really want to know how we are doing, are family, and friends, who Proverbs 18:24 says “stick closer than a brother”. The rest of our acquaintances really are being polite with the “greeting” how are you doing? All that they expect is a fine, or not bad with no explanation. Then move on.

    I accept this and as a result, I only give details to those family and friends who really care, and that is enough. Those offer all I need emotionally, to deal with the myeloma ups and downs. We should not expect that everyone wants to or needs to know all our myeloma vagaries.

    In fact I found myself, tuning out an acquaintance, who always wants to talk about his or his wife’s mundane issues. So for them I fit into the “how are you doing” category, because I really don’t want to here their issues. They drain me emotionally. To me there issues are mundane, but no doubt to them the are priority one. They need to realize that family, friends that are closer than a brother(or sister) are all they need. I don’t have the energy to be one for them.

    So all of us have been the “how are you doing and move on type” and all of us have been “the friend sticking closer than a brother or sister.” We cannot be the high intensity category for everyone. We cannot expect everyone to be in the high intensity category for us because we have myeloma.

  • Gloria said:

    So true….I get that everytime someone sees me. You look great for someone who has cancer…. Since my relapse in April I was on revlimid which did diddly squat. So as Donald trump put it ” Revlimid…YOU”RE FIRED” This past Tuesday I started in a clinical trial using Linsitinib (OSI-906 also called ASP7487)with Decadron & sub-Q Velcade. Hope this works. SCT’s are off the table becos I failed first SCT in less than 2 yrs. I had 1st SCT exactly 2 yrs ago. So “how am I doing?” well I guess I’ll have to wait & see. Happy Holidays everyone.

  • Josh Soffer said:

    Hi Arnie,
    AS the spouse of someone with mm, I’ve heard a lot of those comments.
    It strikes me that the reason people act the way they do around you may be because they are in denial. I mean, they may be experiencing just a tiny fraction of what each of us, patients and caregivers alike, went through when we first heard the news about the diagnosis. Because something like this is too much of a shock to be properly absorbed all at once, we initially react with denial, numbness, withdrawal, incomprehension. It takes a long time for most of us to turn denial into acceptance of a new normal, if in fact we ever completely do. So when we expose friends and strangers to a little piece of this reality of ours, they are not in the position that we are now, but instead are where we were in our initial ‘shock’ phase. And just as we try to walk away from ourselves when the news is too much to cope with, when we share this news with someone else, they want to walk away from it , too. I think that’s what comments like ‘You’ll be fine’ mean. Like if they say it, it will make it true. Like we may have said to ourselves ‘this isn’t really happening to me’. I guess the best way to talk about this to people who aren’t prepared for it is to give them their denial, let then ease into it, don’t expect them to want to ask all kinds of questions about it, at least not at first. OF course they have a luxury those of us who are affected by illness don’t have. They literally CAN walk away from it.

  • Arnold Goodman (author) said:

    Josh, that is an interesting thought. I tend to think it is more a matter of people having their own stuff going on and just not having that much room for someone else’s problems. As long as it’s not affecting their daily lives, they can – as you say – just walk away from it.

  • jim jim said:

    hi folks; a response that needs to be used with discretion and is better utilized at the end of the year which i use only on my good feeling days is, ‘they’ve given me until the end of the year’, followed up by a quick, ‘but are not telling me which year’, which usually stops their meandering thoughts at which time i generally change the subject away from myeloma unless they persist. jim

  • R said:

    While the attached Peter Gabriel tune was written for the benefit of the many unemployed and depressed males in Britain in the late ’80′s, I keep being drawn back to it….Kind of has a point of view, for all those battling a deadly disease. Be well.


  • Thomas M. Bunch said:


    I just finished my 16th year in July and celebrated by asking to be switched from Revlimid to Pomalyst. It truly is less toxic for me. PN, GI, Chemo Brain, tinnitus, balance, all greatly improved.

    Now the big problem. My caregiver and my wife and lover for 56 years succumbed to breast cancer last May. I am lost without her. I got through the loss and grief after lots of prayer and study. But is it possible to find someone who will look past your medical condition? I wonder. One fine lady seemed interested till she told me she had read about the disease online. Suddenly she was incapable of thinking of a long time commitment .

    So I have returned to my diversions, which at this time of year is my Kicksled. Gliding along thru the woods with an occasional push with my foot, makes me forget my anemia and other MM related problems.

    My next plan is to infiltrate a group of widowed cross country skiers under the pretext of them trying my sled. :-)

    Wish me luck.

    Tom ( a 78 year old romantic )

  • David Hall said:

    Hi Arnie:

    “Can’t complain” is a good response. I was diagnosed with myeloma in February 2011. I’m now 59 years old. My M-spike was 1.6 in July 2013. Six months before it was 2.0. No symptoms, tho. Just got home from an eight-day ski trip to Canada, in fact. But, I’ve had 2-3 colds in the last 12 months. The last cold was complicated by bronchitis. I saw my doctor yesterday. She is concerned about my immune system. Had blood drawn the same day. Won’t know lab results for another 10 days. She wants to see me again in six months unless some value in the lab results has moved dramatically in the wrong direction.

    I’m sticking with “can’t complain”.

  • carrita campbell said:

    Hi arnie,

    I too am at the end of my care. I was diagnosed in May of 2010 and have used almost everything available. I went in to the hosipital on Dec 23 for 11 days. I have brain turmors which were zapped by radiation. May I saw the radiation is brand new and I was one of their first patients. The radiologist plus the visiting oncologist say the cancer is all through my body and I cannot drive. I live in Juneau, AK, which is why we have a visiting oncologist who comes monthly from Seattle. I have also had a stem cell transplant. Am bald again – but at least alive. I believe in God and the fact that there is nothing He cannot do. I will pray for you.

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