It all started with Catalino napping for too long after work, missing workouts and complaining of a nagging pain in his shoulder. This was seven (7) months prior to hearing the dreaded “C” word diagnosis. We both thought at first that it was just the result of doing too much power yoga where inversions (like headstands, handstands, and shoulder stands) were common practices.

That first weekend in March 2018, right after his nuclear bone scan, we got confirmation that Cat had multiple myeloma not bone cancer. I got a phone call from the on-call oncologist at Vancouver General Hospital (VGH) advising me to admit Catalino to the ER that night to start treatment, otherwise he would not be able to walk for the rest of his life. I told him, “My husband doesn’t want to go to any ER and wait for hours”. We had already been to the Richmond General Hospital that afternoon for a scan; we were advised by our family doctor to admit him there and they would transfer him to VGH later.

Cat refused when we were told the wait could be 4 hours at minimum, he would rather be at home in his own bed. At that time, he could not stand up, let alone walk; Cat was in a wheelchair. I no longer had the energy to argue with him, so I ended up calling 911 to transport him to VGH.

I only had a few hours of sleep. I had to be back at the VGH to meet up with Cat’s team of doctors. That’s when we found out that Cat had a tumor that took up 50% of the space in his spine around the L4 area. This is what was causing the excruciating pain in his lower back.

Cat would need radiation for the tumor. That radiation caused his vertebrae to collapse a few months after. He had renal failure and was admitted back to the VGH for 12 days. I took time off work so I could be with him and not miss anything; I would give him a shower a half hour before visiting hour was over at 11pm. I just wanted to be with him. I would go back home, have a light sleep, “then rise, then grind” again.

There were mornings when my son Kristofer would drop by the hospital and bring Cat his dark roast Starbucks coffee before heading to work while I got caught up with house chores and/or hit the bookstores and library looking for reading materials on multiple myeloma. Nobody in our family had ever heard of this type of cancer.

We were told that Cat would need months of what they called “first line of treatment” which was CyBorD (cyclophosphamide, bortezomib and dexamethasone) before a stem cell transplant (SCT) could be performed, if he qualified.

Cat’s oncologist also informed us that multiple myeloma was not curable. I was afraid of the unknown, of this frightening myeloma journey, of death, but I kept on thinking if “we can make it through this, we can make it through anything”. I just needed to be well-informed on his cancer.

Those days and months of going back and forth to the VGH for Cat’s treatment were physically draining. Cat’s side effects from the dexamethasone (“dex”), were something else. I would wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning only to find my husband doing a major cleanup (he literally turned his office upside down!); the short temper and mood changes were emotionally draining at times, but I kept my cool.

I worked in the service industry all my life and have been exposed to different kinds of people from all walks of life. This has made me outgoing, patient, accommodating, bold, fearless, confident, and strong; this helped me tremendously not only in my career but as Cat’s caregiver; it also enabled me to continue living after the death of my son Kristofer. You pick up the pieces and move on. But, nothing prepared me for when we first learned Cat had myeloma, or for the first time I saw shock, confusion, fear and anger on my husband’s face. After the initial shock wore off, I knew I needed to be an encourager to Cat though I was very scared and tried not to show it.