OCTOBER 28, 2023 – To welcome in the new year, I had my first encounter with an oncologist specializing in cancers of the blood.
“We’ll need to schedule you for a bone marrow biopsy to confirm,” Dr. Kolla said, “but the blood test results strongly indicate that you have multiple myeloma.”
Multiple myeloma. Both Dad and my father-in-law had died from it. At least now I knew why I’d felt so awful for the whole month of December and why on two attempts I’d found it nearly impossible to ski after the first snowfall of the season. But so much for my having inherited longevity genes from Mother’s side of the family. My sisters, I thought, had hoarded them all.
After trying to synthesize the bad news, I nearly panicked over the unfinished business in Rutherford. How would anyone pick up the pieces? Whatever it took, I had to ensure I could hand matters off to Byron before I was out of the picture.
Dr. Kolla quickly brought me back from a psychological dead faint. He began by describing the treatment regime. I’d assumed there was none, given that Dad had perished without any treatment except painkillers and palliative care. Exhausted by the outing to discover my fate . . . and to learn there was hope . . . Beth drove me home—for a fitful nap.
When my phone rang, it was Cliff. We hadn’t talked since before Christmas.
“What’s happenin’?”
“Uh, I was slee . . . Hi, Cliff. Happy New Year.”
“You too. Just checkin’ in to see where we are with the purchase agreement. Do you and Steve and the lawyers have everything figured out yet?”
“Yeah, uh, I think we’re . . . actually, Cliff, I’m not exactly sure where the hell we are right now. I think the ball’s in Charles’s court to make the latest revisions and get them to Steve’s lawyer.”
“You okay?” Cliff asked. “Your voice is sounding pretty weird.”
In fact, I sounded like a 100-year-old geezer with a bad case of laryngitis. I brought Cliff up to speed. He couldn’t believe it, adding that I was in the best shape of pretty much anyone he knew. To reassure him, I put my best foot forward.
“Last week,” I said, “one of the doctors at my local clinic called to check on me. Great guy. He said he had two pieces of advice. One, surround myself with positive people. So that would include you, my friend. Second, he told me to stay off the internet; don’t go down any rabbit holes regarding my disease.”
“I got you buddy,” Cliff said. “Whatever you need from me, you’ve got it, you know that. But if anyone can lick this, it’s you. You’re gonna come out of this fine, I know it. Well, I don’t know a thing about it, actually, but I know you, and you’re gonna bounce back, I know that.”
“Thanks, Cliff. And again, as the doc said, ‘Surround yourself with positive people.’ You’re one of ‘em Cliff, that’s for sure.”
“Jeanette and I are here for you, don’t forget that.”
“Thanks, Cliff. That means a lot to me.”
I rolled off the bed, got myself downstairs and opened my laptop. The first thing I needed to do was make sure my passwords, contact lists, and instructions on how to find important papers/information were updated and known and accessible. Second, I had to activate contingency plans for my law practice. Third, I’d need to keep my daily blog going—so I’d have something to keep myself going. I had to draft the day’s essay and post it before the sun went down.
And then there was Rutherford. My electronic folders numbered well over 100 and files, in the thousands—plus several banker boxes of paper files stored in our garage. If necessary, how easily would Byron be able to search and access files? And I would have to make sure he was up to date on all the unresolved issues and challenges that lay ahead. Also I’d need to get in touch with our accountant for preparation of tax returns and and K-1s by April.
If this all this was for a morbid purpose, it was also insurance against my demise or incapacity. I knew from experience the importance of planning for the worst to bolster hope for the best.
But first things first: what if I were laid so low by my treatment—or the disease itself—that I couldn’t sign for the family LLCs that were now the record owners of the properties? Ahead of all else, I needed to draft and circulate, written actions to give Byron signing authority on all fronts, starting with the purchase agreement once it was finalized. Then, with every ounce of energy that could be summoned, I needed to light a fire under the lawyers to finalize that all-critical contract.
Only then could I rest.
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
