“How are you?”
It’s an innocuous enough question, a social pleasantry … and yet, a query that stops me in my tracks every time.
How am I?
The easy thing to do, of course, is to toss off the standard “Fine, thanks, how are you?” That doesn’t feel quite honest, though, even though it follows conversational convention. Mostly, I opt for something like “Hanging in there” or “Doing well today, thanks.” Something that honors the sincere, if formulaic, question, and conforms to social norms – I’m pretty sure the checker at the produce store doesn’t really want to hear all about my surgery and chemo – and still rings true to me.
But there remains the deeper question: How am I?
As I’ve mentioned before on this blog, many days I don’t even know how to answer this on a surface level. How am I feeling today? It can change hour to hour. Some ways of feeling are neither familiar nor easily identified. Sometimes I will myself to feel better than I really do, because it fits into plans I’ve made. (This usually comes back to bite me.) Some days I am pleasantly surprised at an unexpected surge of energy or spirit.
Does how I feel = how I am? The discomfort I feel at times, the fatigue, the shakiness, is due to the treatment, not the disease. So, in a sense, I am fine. The treatment is time limited, and when it stops, I will feel better.
I will feel better… but will I be better? Depends on your definition, I guess. I will certainly be more functional. But, until proven otherwise – which effectively means no recurrence after many years -- I will still have cancer. Metastatic endometrial cancer. It’s what my primary care doc gently describes as a “potentially life-limiting disease.” I might feel fine, and yet not be fine. Can one be truly fine when harboring a time bomb?
Perhaps. I can envision coming to peaceful terms with the uncertainty each of us has about our own mortality, and deciding I truly am fine, regardless of what a doctor or an actuary might say. But I’m not there yet.
How am I? So many dimensions to consider: physical, emotional, philosophical, existential. So many minefields. So much uncertainty.
One of the aspects of growing older that I find pleasantly surprising is that I am living much more in the present. There are, let's face it, fewer options for our futures from the simple aspect of having less of it.
ReplyDeleteEverything I used to do as a younger person was analyzed for its productive use of time and its bearing on where I intended to go in the future ( speaking career wise) There was little enjoyment of the present.
Uncertainty is always with us. Anything else is a fantasy,
Best,
Nicole Fall
Nicely put, Nicole.
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing, Leslie!
Thinking positive thoughts for you and your family, Leslie.
Kim Quirk