The Truth

I talked with a friend today, not someone that I talk to all the time, or even regularly, and this person asked me how I was doing. I replied, as usual, with "Great!" This person responded in a way that no one has responded to me before (but Will insists that many have asked him a similar question): "Really, though. Actually great or are you just saying that?" 

I blew it off at the time, repeating that yes, I actually felt great and everything was going great, but that got me to thinking. Do people think that I'm sugarcoating my cancer experience? Do people think that somehow, some of the things I say on this blog and in real life are not the total and absolute truth?

Let me break it down for you.

Every word I've written on this blog is the truth. I have no desire to sugarcoat my cancer experience or make it palatable for a larger audience of people who haven't battled the disease. I have no desire to make myself seem superhuman or not affected by chemo or surgery in an attempt to pump myself up or fake myself out about the severity of what I am going through. This blog started out and has continued to be a place where I can speak directly from the heart. That's why these posts of mine, even the long ones, take me about 10 or 15 minutes to write. There isn't any editing or tweaking going on here, folks. This stuff comes directly from my brain/heart and goes directly to the blog.

The bottom line is what I write is true. What I say is true. And yes, I feel great. 

You know what, though? I'll get a little down and dirty, just for full disclosure purposes. The last round of chemo made me a little constipated. There you go. The ugly truth about my last round of chemo. I was undoubtedly dehydrated from Coachella and then chemo drugs finished the job of depriving my bowels of their requisite fluid. So for about a day (probably less than 24 hours but let's just round up for anti-sugarcoating purposes), pooping wasn't fun. But when I finally did poop, it was better than all the past 20 poops combined. It was a true joy. I literally did a little dance when I emerged from the bathroom.

Another truth? My CEA didn't go down this week. It actually went up .4, a figure that Dr. Lenz promises is utterly insignificant. Did I want my CEA to go from an 8.8 to a 6.8 or something sweet like that? Of course. Am I upset that it went to a 9.2? Not really. Slow and steady wins the race. I'll knock the CEA down some more with this next round of chemo. I've got no doubt about that.

So yes, everything is great. Actually great. Literally great. This week, I ate delicious, nutritious food. I went to the gym every day but today (a little break for Friday but back at it tomorrow) and I shredded my muscles and built them back up. I did the leg press at 215 pounds. I played pick-up basketball games all week and shot the lights out. I DJed O'Melveny's Cinco de Mayo party for 3 hours. I worked, I planned Foundation events, and I made progress on my t-shirt line. I slept like a baby. I sang in the shower and in the car. I laughed until I cried. I smiled at the sun and I lived each moment in utter gratitude.

Actually great. Literally great. 

Maybe it's the conception that chemo means sickness and frailty and cancer means the end of fun and death itself. Maybe it's that I seem too happy or strong or content to be a Stage IV colon cancer patient.

But it's all true. WunderGlo would never lie to you...or me.