The key to getting to know Mr. B

By the great power of God, I am still alive, and I am ready to share the next part of my story. In my last blog, I touched a little bit on the support system and from where I gained my strength. This is something I don’t take lightly or take for granted, especially after a waiting room conversation.

I was in the process of getting my stem cell transplant treatment from Emory Hospital. As patients, we were able to roam the hospital to get our daily steps. One day, I bumped into an Indian lady, who appeared to be in her early 40s, and a 65-year-old African American gentleman. The Indian lady introduced herself first. She then asked how things were going and what our fights were. I shared that I was battling Multiple Myeloma and that I was doing well other than the excruciating pain I was having from neuropathy. This was one of my worst days yet. She went on to share her testimony of surviving breast cancer. She spoke highly of her support system and mentioned that she believed this battle may have been harder on them than her. She told the two of us that she was there for the purpose of clinical trials. She committed to the clinical trials so that she might benefit someone else in the future. Unfortunately, as I listened, all I could think about was my pain.

Then, it was time for the gentleman to speak. I will refer to him as Mr. B. Mr. B was an older man with a shiny bald head. Still, he was a strong-looking fellow. He was also quite tall in stature, perhaps 6'2". He looked as though he could have been a baller back in his day, even though now his stomach well protruded beyond his belt line. Mr. B revealed that he too was batting Multiple Myeloma. The gentleman expressed that he was disappointed in his support group. He had a daughter who lived 3 hours away and a son who lived close by, yet neither provided any support nor had they shown a desire to provide future support. Mr. B continued to say how discontented he was. His wife was at home watching soap operas - even members of his church who promised support weren't there for him.

Mr. B concluded the conversation by speaking about his lack of desire to finish the stem cell process. He would have had his cells collected, but he would not follow through with the transplant. In other words, Mr. B was thinking about giving up on his fight.

This got me. If you love someone, you support them. If you give your word, you stick to it.

For that moment, my pain faded to the background as we sat in silence and waited for the nurse to call our names.

So on this day, I ask not prayers for me but let us all channel them to Mr. B.

Sincerely,

Rick

Glad to see you come, Glad to see you go.