THE NEWS
When I returned home from school on Monday night, I got a call from Dr Smollow about my physical. In the 10 years he has treated me, he has never called to report on my physical. Often I don’t even call myself because no news is good news.
He told me to sit down and write down this following information. He told me that I needed to see a hematologist. He gave me her number and said she’d explain everything. I didn’t have an idea of what he was talking about and was frankly too afraid to ask.
I turned to my son who had been listening to my conversation and asked him to buy me a bottle of Cote du Rhone. He looked concerned, but asked no questions. When he returned with the purchase, he poured us each a glass of wine and we watched back-to-back episodes of Law and Order. He didn’t say a word. And neither did I.
In my manic proactive approach to something that scares me, I made an appointment for that very day. Dr. Shevde’s office was five minutes from school and she had a cancellation at 3:30. When I arrived, Dr. Shevde explained that my blood protein count was quite elevated. These results had come from the routine test that was part of the physical. She wanted to rerun the blood tests. Once she drew the blood, she made several slides and inspected them under a microscope. I had never seen a doctor do anything with blood before. Usually a nurse fills a few tubes with blood and It shipped off to some far away lab and processed. That’s the end of it.. This felt very serious. She told me that it was possible that I had multiple myeloma. I had no idea what she was talking about. Let me just add that I am the antihypocondriac. I don’t watch medical TV and while I am sympathetic and concerned for those I know who have experienced health traumas, I don’t remember details about diseases or even symptoms.
I asked Dr. Shevde what the next step was and she said she would like to do a bone marrow biopsy on Friday after she received the new blood results. I encouraged Dr Shevde to do the bone marrow biopsy immediately instead of waiting until Friday. I told her that my psychiatrist had done the same blood tests in August and that he had noted a slight elevation in the proteins. From the examination table, I called Dr. Winchell and told him I was in a hemologist’s office because my protein levels had risen further. I asked him if he could speak to Dr. Shevde to confirm the results from the tests he ordered. After Dr. Shevde finished her conversation with Dr. Winchell, she said she’d be glad to oblige and we squeezed into her biopsy room. Her nurse turned on the fan because she said three women prone to hot flashes digging around in the bone marrow definitely required a breeze.
The biopsy felt like she was suctioning something out of my body. There was a strange kind of pressure, but it was over pretty quickly. Again Dr. Shevde looked at the blood under her microscope and said there was something definitely going on here. She is a very intelligent, kind and nurturing woman whose son had gone to high school with my daughter. We were both Great Neck mothers. She played bridge often with the librarians from my school. My darling Marlene who explored the hero’s journey with me and had all the research about MM because of her brother-in-law. I felt optimistic. I pushed all my fears back down inside to that place where they can be contained at least for a little while. and smiled. I’m really good at temporarily keeping up a cheerful front.
The labs would be back on Wednesday; Dr. Shevde promised to call.

I had planned for more than a month to go to see Emeril Live with my sister Donna on the day the results would be in. Josh’s roommate Yvette worked for the show and she snagged two tickets back around Christmas and I stuffed them in Donna’s stocking. It seemed like a good idea to spend the day with my sister distracting myself from my fears. Emeril commanded all of my attention with his zaniness. Well, almost all. The food smelled delicious; the recipes looked easy enough to handle at home.
By the time Dr. Shevde called, Donna and I were strolling through the Food Network’s gourmet mall with our goody bags in hand, fantasizing about food.
When my cell phone rang, I knew the news was bad. I heard Dr. Shevde’s voice. She said, “Corinne, I’m sorry to tell you that you have multiple myeloma.” I cried at the bistro table in the patisserie while my sister tried to protect me with a latte. She continued, “There are many treatments. I’d like you to have a bone scan on Thursday before you come in on Friday.” We agreed I’d get a bone scan and be back in her office by Friday.
Everything I thought I knew seemed suspect. I prided myself on being observant, but somehow this treachery had slipped in past the gate. I hadn’t felt better in years. When I turned 50 my thyroid went haywire and threw my entire system off. Now that had been under control for at least three years and menopause-- let’s just say the night sweats, hot flashes, sleepless nights while not yet a thing of the past were now something I just called weather and learned to dress accordingly. I hadn’t even had a cold in two years. I had no aches or pains. But now I had koooties in my blood. Kooties that I couldn’t feel, but they’re there under the microscope.

Bless or curse the internet, I looked up my disease-life expectancy 2-3 years. The kooties in the blood would overpower my immune system. Since these cancerous kooties grow like weeds, the two other healthy immunoglobbins that makeup my immune system would be choked out. And when these kooties take charge, they nest in the bone marrow-at the heart of the bones. They cluster together. This kootie hanging causes tumors that can shatter the bones. Hey, that will wake you up. At present, there is no cure or as some of the websites note: multiple myeloma is incurable. I visited a number of websites, each offered variations on the theme, none good.