That was until Mr. B became ill with multiple myeloma. Our home has become very silent. Mr. B moves so quietly from room to room that he often startles me because I don't hear him come in. When he would watch TV I always knew how his basketball team was doing by his verbal responses to the game. Our home had life. We spoke to each other a lot and laughed. But now Mr. B hardly speaks unless I speak first. I try to pull him into conversations and sometimes I'm successful, but most times I'm not. I've heard from other caregivers that they have experienced the same thing with their MM patients. Perhaps it's just part of what this cancer does to a person. It brings such horrible fatigue that sometimes it's just too much effort for the patient to respond.
Or maybe the silence comes from depression. I know that Mr. B is really struggling emotionally. He has not been feeling well and even though he has been off all chemo for 5 weeks, he still is struggling with nausea & vomiting. We were sure that it would improve if the chemo treatments were stopped for a few weeks. Now I worry that there could be something else wrong that is causing the nausea. I'm afraid that Mr. B will stop eating if it doesn't improve soon. The last few nights he has gone to bed crying. I feel so totally helpless because I don't know what to do to make it better. The doctor has tried every anti-nausea drug on the market and nothing seems to work. Next Tuesday we have an appointment with Mr. B's doctor. We will learn what the plan is for his treatment. The doctor had talked about starting Mr. B on Revlimid instead of going back to the Velcad/Dex/Cyclophosphamide treatments. Now I'm worried that the Revlimid might be even harder on his system and there are no other options available for him here in Canada.
So silence is not golden anymore in my life. I yearn for the joy and laughter to return to our home. I pray for Mr. B to have good days ahead. Days that he can enjoy some of the simple things in life. Days where he will be free from pain and nausea and vomiting. Days that don't include medications and doctor appointments and chemo treatments. I'm not asking for much, just one day where he feels good enough to smile and laugh again.