Ronald Chin

Ronald Chin received a diagnosis of multiple myeloma in January 2017 and has been in remission since October 2023. Catch up on all of 

As I grew up, my dad shared his passion for travel, taking our family on adventures that became cherished memories. One of the highlights was our trip to the 1964 New York World's Fair, where the air buzzed with excitement and innovation. In 1967, we ventured to the Montreal Expo, immersing ourselves in a vibrant tapestry of cultures and futuristic exhibits. We also explored the historic streets of Washington, D.C., where we marveled at the iconic Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, gazed in awe at the grandeur of the White House, and wandered through the galleries of the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History.

With a knowing smile on his face, my father said, "Travel when you are young, not when you are retired or old!" Those words echoed in my mind long after our conversation. Following his advice turned out to be one of the best decisions I've made in my life. I've been fortunate enough to circle the globe on multiple occasions, living part-time along Amsterdam's picturesque canals and savoring teaching experiences across the continents—from the heartfelt workshops in Europe to the beautiful gardens and villages in China.

In 2016, I found myself standing backstage at a Feng Shui conference in the charming town of Tiradentes, Brazil. As I prepared to step onto the stage, I noticed an unsettling weakness in my limbs. Each step felt as though I was treading on thin ice, requiring deliberate caution to avoid a misstep. The spotlight was on me, but my mind was preoccupied with the frailty I couldn't quite understand. Unbeknownst to me, the silent thief of myeloma was already gnawing away at the strength of my bones.

Upon receiving the diagnosis of multiple myeloma in 2017, my journeys for the ensuing years transformed dramatically. My primary mode of travel became the stretcher ambulance, or vans specially equipped to accommodate my wheelchair. Each trip was a careful choreography, a dance of patience and adaptation. The waiting for endlessly delayed car services became a routine exercise in endurance as I navigated the complex logistics that now defined my mobility.

The last time I boarded an airplane was back in 2019, flying from the bustling metropolis of New York City to the serene haven of Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina. My journey was to visit friends at their charming lake house in Virginia, nestled by tranquil waters. Navigating the sprawling airport was a unique and eye-opening experience for me as I maneuvered through the throngs of travelers by wheelchair. The hustle and bustle of the terminal, with its echoing announcements and hurried footsteps, painted a vivid backdrop to my adventure.

Eight years have passed, and now I confidently navigate the city with my trusty rollator. It's my constant companion for grocery shopping, strolls around the bustling streets, and even occasional rides on the subway. My last significant journey was a memorable one, as I took the Amtrak train from the heart of New York City to the quiet center of Atlanta for the Christmas holidays. We were fortunate to secure a private, handicap-accessible bathroom with our cozy roomette, ensuring comfort throughout the eighteen-hour trip.

I am thrilled to share the news that I have received approval for Access-A-Ride. With this newfound freedom, I feel an exhilarating sense of possibility, as if the entire city has opened up to me. This service proved to be the ideal way for my wife and me to attend the Mt. Sinai Survivors Day event. There, we had the incredible experience of meeting my fellow multiple myeloma thrivers in person, surrounded by a community that shares resilience and hope.

I would love to board the airplane now; however, I can't shake off a twinge of anxiety hearing about the travel delays and the precautions necessary due to our immunocompromised condition. The idea of soaring through the skies to Atlanta to reunite with family fills me with warmth, or flying over turquoise waters to Cancun for a lively family get-together offers a tantalizing escape. There's also the thought of journeying to China to reconnect with my roots at my ancestral home, which calls to me with a deep, nostalgic pull. Just recently, we took the time to renew our passports, preparing for such adventures.

Despite the fractures in my spine and the lingering neuralgia from the shingles, I am profoundly grateful for the ability to remain mobile. This mobility enables me to visit family and friends, as well as explore new places. Each step I take, though sometimes accompanied by a twinge of pain, is a reminder of the freedom I still possess. The joy of seeing familiar faces and the thrill of discovering new places fill me with immense gratitude.

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Articles

A lifelong passion for travel, instilled by a father, has shaped a journey marked by cherished memories and global exploration. Despite a multiple myeloma diagnosis in 2017, which altered travel dynamics, the spirit of adventure persists. Mobility challenges have been met with resilience, adapting to new modes of travel and embracing opportunities like Access-A-Ride. The desire to reconnect with family and explore new destinations remains strong, underscoring the profound gratitude for mobility and the joy of discovery, even amidst health challenges.

I share how traveling fueled my passion for life, how myeloma changed my journeys, and how new mobility options have opened doors to adventure and connection.

Traveling with Multiple Myeloma: A Journey of Adaptation and Hope

I take memoir writing classes to enhance my storytelling abilities, seeking to infuse my narratives with depth and emotion. In our most recent session, our group was presented with a unique challenge: to weave a tale using six evocative words as prompts. These words — mountain, curtains, finger, surprises, allowing, and bread — served as the foundation for my narrative.

What follows is the result of this creative exercise, inspired by a pivotal moment in my life. It recounts the time when I was first diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a diagnosis that felt like a dark cloud looming over me. Despite the weight of this revelation, I was determined to visit our newly leased office space — a charming third-floor walk-up. We had just signed a two-year lease, and it seemed fitting to bless the space with positivity and hope.

I continued my journey up the mountain to my office sanctuary. The sun slowly set, casting a warm orange glow over the rocky terrain. My saffron robes were like curtains billowing in the breeze. As I ascended higher, the air grew thinner, and my breaths became more profound. Yet, I felt no fatigue. Instead, I was filled with peace and purpose, knowing I was nearing my spiritual home. My heartbeat steadily in my chest, like the rhythmic drumbeats of a distant ritual.

I could see my temple in the distance, its golden spires reaching towards the heavens. It was a sight that never failed to bring tears to my eyes.

As I approached the gates, I felt a sense of familiarity and comfort wash over me. This was where I belonged, where I had found my true calling. I walked through the carved archway and entered the courtyard. The quietness of the temple enveloped me, a soothing balm for my soul. I walked into my mancave. My heart overflowing with gratitude and reverence.

This was my sanctuary, my refuge from the chaos of the outside world.

As I descended from the mountain, I couldn't help but think about the wonders of technology. My finger glided effortlessly over my iPhone screen, tapping and swiping to share the delightful surprises that unfolded along my route.

I captured photos of the majestic scenery, eager to share them with my friends and family through social media. The thought of instantly connecting with loved ones from anywhere in the world still amazed me.

But as much as I appreciated technology, I also treasured the moments of solitude and reflection that came with disconnecting from it. The peacefulness of the mountain allowed me to fully immerse myself in my surroundings and connect with my inner self.

As I continued my journey, I couldn't help but wonder how different life would be without all these modern conveniences. Would we appreciate nature as much? Would we have more time for introspection and self-discovery?

But then again, technology was another form of spirituality for some. It connected us with others, provided us with endless information, and even helped us navigate our spiritual paths.

I smiled as I thought about how I allowed this technological device in my hand had become a tool for both sharing and experiencing moments of enlightenment. And as long as it didn't consume me completely, I was grateful for its existence.

I am focused on my journey, and my purpose is to experience the present moment fully. With each breath I take, I let go of any worries or distractions that may try to pull me away from this peaceful state.

As I reach a particularly level stretch of the path, I pause to eat some homemade bread. Looking down at my phone, I see notifications from various social media platforms. But instead of being tempted to check them, I simply acknowledge them and let them go.

There is no need for constant connection in this serene environment, where even technology seems to blend in with nature's beauty. Instead, I connect with myself — my thoughts, feelings, and surroundings — in a way that feels much more meaningful.

The narrative explores a personal journey of self-discovery and reflection following a multiple myeloma diagnosis. It uses the metaphor of ascending a mountain to symbolize the pursuit of peace and purpose amidst life's challenges. The protagonist finds solace in a spiritual sanctuary, balancing the benefits of technology with moments of introspection. The story emphasizes the importance of being present, appreciating nature, and maintaining a connection with oneself. It highlights the dual role of technology as both a tool for connection and a potential distraction from meaningful experiences.

I reflect on finding peace, purpose and presence after my diagnosis through a creative writing exercise rooted in mindfulness and metaphor.

Being in the Present Moment With Multiple Myeloma

A survivor perseveres through life's trials, emerging on the other side of a perilous event or harrowing ordeal, like an accident or a grave illness. This individual embodies resilience and withstood circumstances threatening to take them down. Similarly, the term can describe a person who endures the emotional challenge of continuing life after the loss of a loved one, such as a cherished family member. This survivor navigates the turbulent seas of grief and loss, finding a way to carry on despite the profound absence left behind.

I became a survivor when I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma and lived through a clinical trial in 2017. I became a survivor by making thrice-weekly trips to the hospital for infusions of (Kyprolis) carfilzomib, (Treanda) bendamustine and dexamethasone, along with occasional doses of Zometa (zoledronic acid). I became a survivor, enduring MRI scans and radiation treatments while lying on my back with broken bones. I became a survivor by having my stem cells collected for a transplant that ultimately didn't occur.

I emerged as a survivor after enduring compressive fractures in my thoracic and lumbar vertebrae, labeled explicitly as T11, T12, L1, L3 and L5. The pain was excruciating, a deep, relentless ache that seemed to reverberate while imprisoned within the white tortoiseshell and leg brace. In L1, there was severe retropulsion — a spinal burst where fragments of bone were forced into the delicate spinal canal, threatening to wreak havoc on my nervous system. My height dwindled from a statuesque 5 feet 8 inches to a petite 5 feet 2 inches.

Remarkably, I am considered an anomaly because I retained the ability to perform basic bodily functions like peeing and pooping. My nerves, which could have been severely compromised, mercifully remained intact, sparing me from the paralysis that loomed as a terrifying possibility.

Indeed, I am a survivor. After eight long years, I finally feel robust enough to traverse the city on my own. This past Valentine's Day, I embarked on a journey by myself using public transportation for the first time! My adventure began with the crosstown bus, traveling from the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art at 86th Street/Madison to Broadway. From there, I descended into the depths of the subway, catching the #1 train to 34th Street/7th Avenue at Penn Station, and completed my journey with a leisurely walk home. My only companion on this journey was my trusty cane!

A few weeks later, I was at a feng shui consultation near the majestic St. Patrick's Cathedral. Navigating the mazelike tunnels of the 53rd Street/5th Avenue subway station, a chaotic construction mess, was no small feat. For someone like me, who typically relies on my trusty rollator walker with a seat, these obstacles might as well have been insurmountable cliffs. Yet, with determination and carefulness, I maneuvered through the maze, feeling a profound sense of accomplishment with each step.

The physical therapy sessions, with their rigorous exercises and carefully guided routines, gradually built up my strength. I could feel my stamina growing as I pushed through the repetitions, my muscles becoming more resilient each week. This newfound vitality boosted my confidence, allowing me to take on challenges I once thought were insurmountable.

Meanwhile, my wife, Heather, played an indispensable role in this transformation. She gracefully transitioned from hovering over me with constant concern to stepping back and

encouraging my steps toward self-reliance. Her gentle smiles and words of encouragement reminded me that she valued my progress and celebrated my newfound independence.

I am a survivor, and my journey is a testament to the power of gratitude and the harmonious blend of diverse healing traditions. My Eastern training in meditation, qigong, and other energy modalities has taught me to channel and balance the vital forces within.

Western medicine, with its arsenal of potent healing elixirs, has played an indispensable role in my recovery. Together, these approaches have woven a tapestry of resilience and renewal, enabling me to regain my strength and embrace life with renewed vigor.

Survivors embody resilience, overcoming life-threatening challenges such as severe illness or the loss of a loved one. This narrative details a personal journey through multiple myeloma, involving intensive treatments, physical therapy, and the support of loved ones. Despite severe spinal injuries and the risk of paralysis, the individual retained basic functions and gradually regained independence. The integration of Eastern and Western healing practices played a crucial role in recovery, highlighting the importance of gratitude and diverse therapeutic approaches in fostering resilience and renewal.

I share how I survived multiple myeloma, painful spine fractures and years of recovery to reclaim my independence and vitality.

I Found Strength After Surviving Multiple Myeloma and Through Recovery

Despite the overwhelming challenges of my battle with multiple myeloma, I was constantly humbled by the unexpected support and kindness from those around me. As I was going for my appointments, the superintendent of my building and the guys who worked in the adjacent parking garage would drop everything to lend a hand to carry me in my wheelchair up the three steps in my lobby. Their sturdy arms would effortlessly lift me while they shared warm smiles. Though a small gesture, it meant so much to me when even the simplest tasks felt overwhelming. Their strong embrace brought comfort and yet also stirred up feelings of guilt within me. I couldn't help but feel like a burden, relying on them for even the most minor tasks. Their kind words lifted my spirits and reminded me of my limitations. Every day was a constant struggle between wanting their support and feeling ashamed for needing it.

Their selfless acts of kindness were a bright light amidst the darkness of my illness, reminding me that there is always goodness in the world.

My dear friend and feng shui colleague who resided in the bustling borough of Brooklyn came to my aid periodically, lending her hand with the tedious chores around my apartment. Even though she didn't like doing dishes, she diligently washed all our pots and pans, plates, cups and silverware; brought fresh produce from her local market; gifted us bags of groceries; and eagerly tended to any necessary duties that my wife required help with. Though we had only known each other through our professional life, I was taken aback by Ann's unwavering compassion and willingness to assist from afar. Her presence filled our home with a warm, nurturing energy that made me grateful.

When another colleague, Lois, came for a visit, she asked, “What is Anne doing?” When we told her that she would come to help, Lois replied, “I can do that!” Then she began coming regularly and treated us with needed groceries and mundane chores…she even brought her own dish gloves!

Despite my insurance providing an allowance for special bandages, it was not enough to cover the daily changes needed for the deep, ugly wound on my back. My wife and I were constantly faced with the daunting task of affording these expensive gauzes. However, one day, we were surprised and deeply moved when one of the nurses went into the supply closet and gifted us a couple of boxes of these special bandages. My wife, Heather, was overcome with emotion, tears streaming down her face in gratitude for this act of kindness and generosity.

To get a definitive diagnosis of multiple myeloma, it is required to obtain a bone marrow biopsy. After the procedure, I was to meet with the oncology team for treatment options, which were scheduled for the following week. However, we learned that there was a strict protocol for getting a referral from a PCP (primary care physician) to receive authorization to get a diagnosis from the oncology team. At that time, we did not have a PCP!

Throughout this ordeal, my mantra became, "We believe in magic and miracles." With hope and determination, I found a PCP and my wife called our new doctor. Despite never having seen him before, he agreed to provide the necessary authorization as long as I promised to be in his office on our scheduled appointment day. It was another small victory in our battle against the insurance system protocols.

Despite the excruciating pain caused by the broken bones in my spine and the lytic lesions scattered throughout my body, each trip to the doctor's office was a challenge. A cumbersome plastic turtle shell with an extended leg brace held my body together. The rigid plastic shell and metal leg brace were a constant reminder of my broken body. I knew it was essential to go to my follow-up appointment, but the thought of getting into the car and the pain of going over each bump to see the doctor made me anxious. Part of me wanted to pretend everything was fine and avoid going altogether, but I knew deep down that I needed to make sure my body was healing correctly. After several months, it was crucial to schedule a follow-up visit. We asked if it would be possible for my doctor to come to my apartment instead. Initially, he said, “No, I don’t make house calls.” After an hour, we got a call: “Where do you live, and how’s the parking?” Over two years, he made three house calls, a rarity in today's fast-paced and impersonal world. We felt incredibly fortunate to have such a compassionate and dedicated doctor at our doorstep.

Every week, like clockwork, one of our trusted family members, Maureen, would arrive at our doorstep to meticulously sift through the paperwork and files related to our finances. She got our mail and carefully sorted through income, hospital bills, and taxes, ensuring every invoice and statement was accounted for. To this day, I continue to use the same tried-and-true method of using the gray accounting books to keep track of our financial records. Even though it is not a computerized system, it has served us faithfully for years. She also generously treated us to groceries and lunches each week.

We were blessed with the presence of family and friends who traveled from all corners of the world, including Atlanta, New Hampshire, Montreal, New Jersey, upstate New York, and even Switzerland, to lend a hand. They lovingly gave me nightly foot massages, prepared meals, tackled the daunting task of laundry, organized drawers, and offered assistance in any way possible to ease the burden of daily chores. Most importantly, they provided much-needed help for Heather, who couldn't handle everything that needed to be done and had taken on the role of my full-time caretaker without hesitation or complaint. Their selflessness and support lightened the weight on our shoulders and brought warmth to our hearts during a difficult time.

The narrative highlights the profound impact of community support during a battle with multiple myeloma. Acts of kindness from neighbors, friends, and healthcare professionals provided essential assistance and emotional comfort. Despite the challenges of navigating healthcare protocols and enduring physical pain, the author found solace in the selfless gestures of those around them. The story underscores the importance of compassion and human connection in overcoming adversity. The unwavering support from family and friends, both near and far, played a crucial role in alleviating the burdens of illness and caregiving.

Throughout my experience with multiple myeloma, I was humbled by the unexpected support and kindness shown to me.

Ronald Chin

Traveling with Multiple Myeloma: A Journey of Adaptation and Hope

Being in the Present Moment With Multiple Myeloma

I Found Strength After Surviving Multiple Myeloma and Through Recovery

Unexpected Support in Tough Times With Multiple Myeloma

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