Terrible, Thanks for Asking

I’ve spent the past few days at a number of places where I’m seeing people who know about my cancer, but who haven’t seen me face-to-face since learning the news. And above all else the question I get asked is, “How are you?” To be fair, this is the same question everyone else gets asked in these forums – synagogue, tailgating, engagement parties, etc. And the canned response everyone else gives to the question is, “Good, how are you?” and then the conversation moves on to more substantive topics.

So part of me is tempted to respond per usual. But that answer feels really disingenuous. Because even if I am feeling “good” in that moment, it’s all relative, and way less “good” than it would have been 6 weeks ago (when I already had cancer, I just didn’t know it). Nora McInerny, who I mentioned in my last post, would probably tell me to respond, “Terrible, Thanks for Asking,” which is both the name of her podcast as well as a a more truthful representation of what I feel. But I can’t manage to say it without the “thanks for asking” part to sound incredibly sarcastic, and I don’t actually intend it to be sarcastic – I’m so glad I have all these amazing people in my life who care enough to ask, and listen for a real answer.

So I’m left with responding “I’ve been better, I’ve been worse” … which is largely true, and about as descriptive as the normal response of “I’m good.” Also, I think it kind of makes me sound like a Jewish granny in Brooklyn – which is a vibe I’m totally down with these days. (and don’t even get me started on the grammar nerds who answer “I’m well” – I totally missed that lesson in English class in 7th grade, or whatever grade they taught that in, and it just makes you sound like a pretentious grammar nerd. Why can’t you just say “I’m good” like the rest of us?!)

So, yeah, I’ve been better (see: 2nd year of business school when I managed to travel to 6 of 7 continents, down tequila shots until 2A on Wed-Sat nights, and get in 2 gym workouts a day all while maintaining fairly remarkable academic performance) and I’ve been worse (see: the summer before Junior year of college, living alone in the Sorority house, catching the flu, convinced I would die alone, in that twin bed, with no one to find my body for 4 weeks – thank god for Matt & Nancy, who saved me with saltines and sprite).

But I get it, in addition to genuinely caring about my well being, when asking the question “How are you?” people are also curious about how it all feels because thankfully, most of my people haven’t been through this. So here goes…

I am tired. All the time. Wednesday – Friday is the worst. And requires a morning and an afternoon nap just to make it through the day. And I hurt. My leg and arm muscles hurt like I just finished a cross-fit workout (I didn’t), and my jaw hurts (probably because I’m grinding my teeth, but maybe just because of the chemo).

And I have a headache that on a ten point scale ranges between 1-4, but is never a 0. And my scalp hurts (my hair started falling out yesterday – the scalp hurting is part of this process, apparently). My throat is always dry no matter how much water I drink and hard candies I suck. And I have chemo rash – which makes my body look like I have some communicable disease.

And from when I wake up until about 10A I am REALLY nauseous (I have WAY more respect now for pregnant women with morning sickness). The only way to manage the nausea is to eat (in addition to drugs, which have a host of other side-effects I’m trying to avoid). But nausea and eating are often enemies before they are friends and so first breakfast is often sacrificed to the toilet and replaced by second breakfast – at this point my consumption rate of breakfast cereals may single handedly be saving General Mills.

Plus, these symptoms are accumulative – week 1 wasn’t that bad compared to week 2, and tomorrow I start week 3 … of 20. So as I said, I’ve been better. And I’m gonna be worse. So there’s that.

Unfortunately, chemo symptoms suck.

Fortunately, its going to be totally worth it – because every sore muscle cell, unhappy tummy cell, and dead hair cell is just a physical manifestation of whats also happening to the cancer cells, who if you asked how they’re doing would probably respond, “Terrible, Thanks for Asking.”