I have always known my Mom is unique, but I never imagined she would be one of only 36,000 people this year diagnosed with the rare blood cancer called Multiple Myeloma. What began as elevated protein in yearly blood work around new year turned into more in-depth testing, turned into a referral to a Hematologist/Oncologist, turned into a PET scan and bone marrow biopsy, and finally a diagnosis at the end of January. 

To say life turned upside down this past winter is an understatement. While this was unexpected and on many cold, dark days left me reeling, the reality is that being diagnosed early in this way was a blessing. Multiple Myeloma is a cancer of the plasma cells which grow uncontrolled and crowd out healthy blood cells and compromise immunity. I have since learned many are not as fortunate and only find out when the disease has already put them in an advanced state of organ or bone damage. Besides being slightly anemic, which is a symptom and looking back she had been for a couple years, Mom is pretty much fine. However being diagnosed with a cancer and it presently being incurable; the initial devastation cannot be understated. It’s hard to describe the whiplash of going through thinking everything is fine to knowing things are very much not fine.

Yet the more I learn and understand about the disease the more hopeful things became. Huge strides have been made in the past 5-10 years in treating Multiple Myeloma. Average lifespans have turned from years into a decade plus, and doctors typically aren’t willing to make any sort of prognosis due to the advancement and abundance of treatments today with more in the works. Some even believe a cure is on the horizon. As much as I love looking back in history, this solidifies to me beyond a doubt that right now is by far the best time to be alive.

Mom began treatment in March at Reading under the direction of her specialist at Fox Chase and things have gone as well as they can. Her induction treatment has only been the standard of care for the past couple years, and it has been highly effective, as in only 2 months it has brought her blood protein levels back to near normal. She has a few treatments left, but the hardest part is yet to come. Next month she is scheduled to get a Stem Cell Transplant, which involves harvesting her own stem cells after treatment has cleared the cancerous cells from her blood and bone marrow. After she receives a large dose of Melaphan chemo which will kill all of her living blood cells, her healthy cells will be injected back into her body, and it will take her system a few weeks to “reboot”. During this time she will be extremely immunocompromised, and will be at Fox Chase in their Bone Marrow Transplant ward until she is cleared to come home and continue to isolate for up to three months, depending on how quickly her system rebuilds itself. This will hopefully keep the disease in remission for many years to come. 

I owe my fondness of local history, and all that this site has come to be to her. When I was a kid she took me along to Historical Society presentations, drove us around the county visiting graveyards or historical sites, and compiled a library of GMMIX’s Passing Scene books that ignited my fascination with our story.

So if you have made it this far this is where I ask for your thoughts, prayers, positive vibes, etc; for my Mother’s health and mental well being moving into the next phase of treatment. For her doctors and nurses at both Fox Chase and Reading as they care for her through this process. For the countless researchers and scientists who dedicate their lives to discovering new treatments responsible for keeping patients like my Mom alive, and for Dave and I as we navigate caring and advocating for her. 

2025 has been a bumpy ride so far, and if it has brought anything into the forefront of my awareness it is that we are never really ready to let go of our Moms. So Happy Mother’s day to mine, I love you, and soon we will be on the other side of this.