If you’ve been a follower of my blogs or have read any of them, you probably know that I’m a person who lives with cancer. I won’t bore you with a lot of details here, because I’ve laid the specifics out before. Suffice it to say, I have what’s called Multiple Myeloma. Some really bad stuff that’s estimated to take the lives of 12,930 people in the United States this year, according to the American Cancer Society. The overall five-year survival rate is about 30%. I’m one of the blessed ones. I’m a twenty-plus-year survivor. My journey has been one of fear, tears, boisterous laughter, faith, love, thankfulness…whatever emotional and mental dynamic of which you could possibly imagine.
Tomorrow starts a new decade. What does that mean? I’ll tell you. I was diagnosed with this disease twenty years ago, March 12, 2,000. So, it’s been twenty years and four months for me that I’ve lived with this burden. I emphasize, live. I can recall when I received word of my diagnosis. As you can imagine, it hit me like a proverbial ton of bricks. And I must admit, I did go through some emotional trauma at the bottom of that dark pit that one can find themselves in at certain stages of life. If you’ve experienced receiving some heart-stopping news before, you know what I’m talking about. Not only does it seem as if your heart stops, but also the world around you.
If you’ve been doing the math, you probably are already asking yourself what in tarnation am I talking about; March 12, 2020 was twenty years since diagnosis; therefore, the new decade started four months ago. That’s true, and I’m praying that I will live another twenty years with this disease, even better than that, I’m hopeful that a cure will be found soon. That’s not the new decade to which I’m referring. Tomorrow will be my seventieth birthday.
Looking back, I didn’t expect to be here pecking out some of my thoughts on a laptop, preparing to share them with my small number of followers. I’m grateful for each of you, and especially for the times you’ve given me feedback. I’ve been able to see my three kids grow into adulthood, and I now have six grandkids and one great grandchild. I love them all, and I think that’s quite the God-given legacy to leave behind. Of course, I’m not ready to go just yet. They, along with my dedicated and loving wife, Chris, have provided much of what I consider the reason I’m still here. I know medical science has played a huge role, but one must have a reason to live. God gave them to me, and He has blessed me with the gift of being around to be a part of something that will stretch out for years to come. Thank God for seventy! We’re about six hours away from tomorrow, but I’m confident I’ll make it.
I’m old and blessed…hope you will be too.
oldblessedwordpresscom 
May you have a very happy birthday — and MANY more to follow.
LikeLike
Thanks.
LikeLike
Happy Birthday to You
Happy Birthday to You
Happy Birthday, Dear Christian Brother…..
And Many More, too!
Your story is a tremendous inspiration. I pray for continued blessings and healing for you, in this new decade. Seventy is still young. My husband is 71 and he is still a kid. I’m just a couple of years and a few months away from my 7-0, but I still feel like a kid myself.
LikeLike
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
In every sense of the phrase, MANY HAPPY RETURNS OF THE DAY! It’s so true that we need a purpose in life to encourage us to go on. And one of these days, you and Chris are going to Ghana! Be blessed!
LikeLike
Thanks! You’ve become one of my most valued friends in cycberspace. We’re holding onto the thought that we will make it to Ghana soon. God bless you…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, that’s lovely!
LikeLike
Wow. You are already 70 as I write this. Congratulations and belated happy birthday. It is really miraculous that not only are you still alive and kicking, but looking mighty fine, too, from what I can see. How wonderful that you could see your kids grow up, get married have kids, all that stuff we tend to take for granted, until we get a diagnosis like you did. I’m so very glad that you beat the odds. Now…stay well in the eye of this pandemic storm.
LikeLike
Strangely, the pandemic has become more of an emotional and mental struggle than my cancer ever was. Go figure.
LikeLike
Wow. I’m having a hard time figuring that one. Hang in there. If you can whoop cancer, you can also deal with the pandemic.
It may be all the social stuff happening around us that has you upset. Between inane leadership, petulant anti-maskers, BLM protesters being hijacked into unmarked cars and shot with stun guns and tear gas, there’s a lot to mourn for. I had so much hope for us in 2008.
LikeLike