December, 2024

Hello, my name is Vasilios Sotiropoulos, aged 57, from Scarborough, Ontario.

My friends know me as Billy.  

I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma in July 2023 at the age of 56.

In May of 2017, I was diagnosed with two rare auto immune diseases:

Membranoproliferative Glomerulonephritis (MPGN) in conjunction with Monoclonal Gammopathy of Undetermined Significance (MGUS).

These conditions put holes in my kidneys, causing them to leak toxins into my body and, ultimately, resulting in complete kidney failure.

I was placed on dialysis, a lifeline that keeps me alive. My regular treatment plan consists of receiving dialysis five days a week, with each session lasting seven hours.  

Though I am now retired, I was once the co-founder and vice president of a construction union. My passion lies in the expression of art; I am an artist, author, and philanthropist. I have cultivated a significant presence on social media, dedicated to spreading awareness about living kidney donors and bringing multiple myeloma into the light.

I strive to communicate the message that a diagnosis of multiple myeloma and any other hardship is not a death sentence—that it is possible to live life with passion and purpose even in the face of this illness.

I meticulously arranged for entertainment, thoughtfully selected giveaway gifts, and even showcased some of my personal paintings. It was a joyous occasion, a tribute to my life’s story that I had long yearned to share.

Before my speech, I stumbled and fell, a seemingly minor incident that quickly spiraled into a significant setback. I later found myself grappling with an unforeseen and painful predicament. 

Yet, as fate would have it, the back pain that followed was nothing short of agonizing. It became so intense that I struggled to find comfort, unable to lie down or even get out of bed. It felt as if I were carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, both physically and emotionally, as I navigated the challenge of this severe pain.

My wonderful partner Dina and I were introduced to Multiple Myeloma Canada during our initial meeting with the oncologist. 

The regimen of medications—Revlimid (Lenalidomide), Bortezomib, and Dexamethasone—came with a daunting array of side effects: nausea, fatigue, and an unsettling sense of vulnerability I had never experienced before. Yet, on even my worst days, I managed to find glimmers of joy—a warm sunbeam filtering through my window, a kind word from a friend, or the simple pleasure of painting.

I placed my trust in God’s plan, convinced that there was a deeper purpose behind my suffering.

As I prepared for the stem cell retrieval in November 2023, I underwent a series of rigorous injections of Grastofil designed to position myself optimally for the transplant. I endured high-dose chemotherapy, grappling with fevers, low blood pressure, and the loss of my hair. 

The task of navigating dialysis five days a week while simultaneously recovering from the transplant proved to be an immense hurdle. I found myself gaining an unexpected 40 pounds in a week due to fluid retention, a consequence of the delicate balancing act required by my treatments.

Many times, I questioned whether I could survive this dual battle; the burden weighed heavily on my spirit. 

Nevertheless, amidst the chaos, I leaned into my faith. I found strength in prayer and the comforting belief that God would steer me through this tumult.

I realized that I had a choice: I could either succumb to fear and despair or rise from the ashes, determined to carve out my own narrative. This newfound resilience became my shield, protecting me from the negative thoughts that threatened to invade my mind. 

Following my medical journey, I continued my recovery at home. January to May 2024 was fraught with challenges. I dealt with persistent fevers, fatigue, and a lack of appetite. Yet, I sought solace in simple pleasures—taking walks in nature, diving into inspiring books, and losing myself in the strokes of my paintbrush.

Each small victory served as a reminder that life was

still worth living, that I was not merely a cancer patient

but a person with dreams, passions, and a yearning for life.  

I had my dialysis at home, a process that introduced its own set of difficulties. I frequently experienced significant anxiety and restless legs, making this already taxing procedure even more daunting. The overwhelming nature of my situation often left me feeling vulnerable.

Thankfully, I had the incredible support of Dina, a beautiful soul who walked alongside me, helping me navigate the waves of anxiety. Managing dialysis was challenging enough; the additional burdens of my health issues made it all the more overwhelming. My body eventually succumbed to emotional trauma that stemmed from a childhood filled with abuse, both physically and emotional, and which left deep scars that manifested in struggles with my mental health.

Despite these challenges, I am continually reminded of the many blessings in my life. I have a beautiful partner who stands with me through thick and thin, providing unwavering support. My ex-wife and I have raised two remarkable sons who have blossomed into compassionate, kind-hearted individuals. We often reflect on how precious life is and the importance of living it to the fullest.

By March 2024, my follow-up appointment brought encouraging news: I had achieved a Very Good Partial Response (VGPR). My protein levels had dramatically decreased from 27.8 to an impressive 2.7.

A trip to Greece was planned for July 2024, symbolizing my determination to embrace life despite the odds stacked against me. 

However, life had more unexpected revelations in store. After a routine CAT scan in June, something suspicious was detected. A subsequent biopsy confirmed my worst fears: a secondary cancer diagnosis of liposarcoma. The emotional weight felt heavier than before, but I reminded myself that I had already endured so much. I was resilient, and I believed I could navigate this storm as well. I knew that upon my return from Greece, I would be met with a whirlwind of appointments and planning for my next stage of recovery. But I resolved not to let this diagnosis define who I am. I would not permit cancer to rob me of my joy or my passion for life. 

As I began to consider my future, my current treatment plan was focused on transitioning to maintenance therapy for my multiple myeloma. However, due to my recent diagnosis of liposarcoma, I had to put those plans on hold. Starting radiation treatment required that I pause my maintenance therapy, as the side effects from the radiation would be too taxing on my body. My hematologist-oncologist reassured me that I am in remission with multiple myeloma and that we can revisit maintenance once my radiation is complete.