How Are You Feeling?

Posted January 17, 2012, 4:17 pm in I'm a Survivor

Lindsey lives in Los Angeles, CA. She is 26 years old and studying for a masters in urban planning. And she rides a scooter.

In October 2010, just after her 25th birthday, she was diagnosed with pancreatic neuroendocrine cancer.

She had surgery in December to remove many of the tumors, and the ones that remain in her liver are currently being controlled with a two-weeks on, two-weeks off oral chemo regimen. There is no cure, only more surgery or continued chemotherapy.

Lindsey says, with cancer, there are generally only three categories of patients: those in treatment, those in remission, and those who have been cancer-free for many years (survivors). She says she felt she doesn't fit fully into any of these categories so she made up a new one: she is a liver.

She recently started a blog about life with cancer called I Am a Liver. Click here to visit her blog and read additional posts. The post below appears with Lindsey's permission, and we will be regularly featuring her posts here on Women Playing For T.I.M.E.

Instead of saying "How are you?" or "How was your day?", well-meaning friends and acquaintances have increasingly been asking me, "How are you feeling?"

It always throws me off.

First, it’s a question my doctors usually ask. So I have to remember who i’m talking to (not a doctor), and how much detail they want. Probably not how many bowel movements I had that day or whether my white blood cell counts are in the normal range (they are now, thank you, and i’m back on my chemo).

Then, I try to recall my automatic answer for that question, and I realize that I have none. The question comes from a thoughtful place, a place of wanting to acknowledge that they care about my health and that they’re not afraid to talk to me about it, I think, and it deserves more than the throwaway answer I would give the other questions (“Good.” and “Fine,” respectively).

Then, I wonder, am I supposed to not be feeling OK? Yes, I have cancer, so technically, i’m sick. And yes, i’m on chemo, which can make me sick. And no, no life insurance company would ever give me life insurance. But isn’t it obvious, considering that i’m blogging all the time and going about my business and exercising and continuing my vegan diet trial, that i’m feeling fine?

Then I get a little annoyed. Am I not doing enough to make people understand that having cancer isn’t only about losing one’s hair and being tired all the time and having six months to live? Cancer can be about one or two or all of these things for some people, but for me, it’s not about any of these things. Cancer is about minor annoyances like getting my blood drawn frequently, getting a shot every month, taking my chemo pills when i’m supposed to; it’s about major annoyances like organizing appointments and health insurance and bills; it’s about fear for what lies ahead and for a liver transplant. Clearly I am, at the moment, not sick in the same way that some other people with cancer are sick. At the moment, I am feeling fine, thank you, and if I was ever not feeling fine, then you would probably know about it. Because I would be in the hospital, or i’d be in bed, or I wouldn’t feel like talking, or i’d be sitting out my normal activities, or I wouldn’t be eating.

Then I think, maybe the person meant emotionally–and not physically. My emotional state goes up and down faster than my physical wellness. How am I feeling emotionally? I don’t know. Annoyed, perpetually, at my insurance and the health care system. Disorganized. Consumed by the thought of a transplant. Unsettled.

"Good." "Fine."

It’s amazing how cancer can ruin even the simplest of questions. It’s amazing how cancer can ruin almost everything. I was thinking about this while I was watching Crazy Sexy Cancer last week. Why is it such a big deal? Why has it sparked thousands of organizations and blogs and books and documentaries and movies? It’s just a stupid disease–why is it everywhere? Why did I let it change me? Over and over again I can say that I think it changed me and the way I live my life for the better–but would I choose it?

No.

Would anyone choose it? Probably not. Is there anything I can do about it? No.

"How are you feeling now?"

Sad. And tired of thinking.

Learn More About Lindsey's Journey:

-- Steve Jobs' Death Hits Close to Home
-- I'm a Liver
-- Happy Cancerversary
-- Me, Dancing
-- How Are You Feeling?

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