The Questionnaire

Sure, I would not mind saving 500 dollars. Dan wants to join the Cornell Ski team.   Abby will need help this winter as she teaches 4 year olds to ski and Jeff… It’s surprising how many incidentals one generates on one’s meteoric ride to Master of the universe/ second year medical student. Life goes on, I am still parent of three single students who need funding, despite my daily, sundry struggles.

            It’s easy, too. The money saving, not the master of the universe thing.   I need to complete the oxymoronically named “Wellness form.” My GVHD tide is slowly receding, yet again, fading slowing under the renewed effects of Rapimmune and prednisone. I have stopped eyeing the room for potential devices of self-extinction.  I feel I am safe around sharp objects, shards of glass, beakers of Hemlock, and my sister- in- law.(1)

            To save money, I need to answer health questions and undergo a physical. In the past few years, I  have viewed maintenance health care as a   waste of time. I want to scrawl, “I have cancer!  Every day is an unexpected surprise” across every  form requesting a preventative health care check up.   I derive perverse pride from my disease.  I think of Men in Black:

“You're no longer part of the system. You are above the System. Over it. Beyond it. We're them. We're they. We are….” People fighting Cancer. 

To paraphrase Gold hat, from the treasure of the Sierra Madres, 

“Health exam? We don’t need any stinking health exams, asshole”

Preventive care?   That ship sailed 7 years ago, now I am  well into besiegement mode. My medical situation resembles the Israeli zealots barricaded on Masada, awaiting   their doom at the hands of the Romans who had surrounded their desert redoubt. Telling me to take cholesterol medication would be like telling the zealots  to wear sunblock, because nothing is worse than being tortured by the Romans except being tortured by the Romans while suffering from a bad sunburn.

            I  am slowly being  reintroduced  to  preventative medicine. Much to my chagrin,  Ted  asks about my cholesterol and blood pressure, whereas all I want to do  is shout ,  “LDL? Fuck that, tell me how to  overcome  this crippling steroid neuropathy, my mouth pain,  my blah blah blah blah.”

             I go to the wellness website. They ask a series of questions about my health,   habits and lifestyle.  I develop a headache   from  excessive eye rolling.

Exercise? They want to know  about exercise? How many calories does one burn  searching for gauze to staunch the  flow of blood from a newly opened vein  that lies under my  steroid and Coumadin weakened skin?

            I can’t see any benefit from these asinine questions. My insurance is through my work, I can’t be dropped.  Aetna must possess a voodoo doll with my face on it into which they  stick pins.  I am aware Aetna’s’ stockholders lose 5 cents in dividend income every time I receive  $10,000 worth of IVIG.

            I should not be alive. I recall a Bill Maldin   WWII cartoon.:

 I feel like a fugitive from the  law of averages.

 That’s me. Don’t ask about my bloody  blood pressure, ask about my risk of secondary malignancy  from all -out land assault that was launched against my marrow and  flesh.

            Still a cool $500 saving  just by  answering some questions .           I’m   answering questions about  stress and  alcohol when I get to the question I’ve been dreading since I signed on 31 minutes ago.   Question: Do you have Cancer?  There are 4 possible responses

 1) I am living with cancer.

  This annoys me, it’s a euphemistic way of saying  “ I am dying with cancer”

 2) I had cancer but am now cancer free

3) I never had cancer

 4) I refuse to answer.

I Can’t  answer #4… I am not proud of my disease but still,  refusing to answer  is admitting to having cancer

Monty Python, Life of Brian

“Are you a Virgin”

“I refuse to answer!”

“She’s a virgin”

Answer three  is out, because it’s a lie.  So, do  I answer  #1 or 2?  Yikes.  I probably have a few leukemia cells  kicking around inside.  They will lurk within me until I die, kept in check by my overly neurotic and aggressive donor cells.   But, it’s not an accurate assessment.  I don’t expect to die of cancer unless I  have a heart attack while participating   in the   Jimmy Farber walkathon one year, or if I get hit by the LMA bus ( Longwood area shuttle bus)  as it drops employees at the  Farber.

Yikes. A cancer survivor could become an exsurvivor  at this event.

            So, that leave us with

2) I am cancer free

This presents the most metaphysical of all the answers.  Quick Quiz:

 Cancer:   

1) A  clone of immortal cells that are resistant to treatment and often result in death

 2) Cancer:  a  state of violent  change and disruption of  one’s life.

3) A disease that will soak into your every dream, your every waking moment even if you are unaware of its presence.

4) A  disease that will  change you, your family and your future for ever  and ever .

5) Cancer: The ultimate stigma,  every time you hear about any one dying of cancer, you will mumble “There but for the grace of god go I.”

 Choice  number  two isn’t accurate either .  No one is ever free from a cancer diagnosis. No one is ever cancer free once one receives that diagnosis.

 So,  which box do I check? I check?

   5) “Yikes, don’t ask” is accurate but resembles #4.

In the end, the best answer  would be a modified  #1, which violates  the questions euphemistic  intent:

1)   I am living with, existing with, worrying about,  whining  over, obsessing about, terrified by, suffering from the side effects of,  and annoying family members over, my cancer diagnosis.   There.  Where do I check?


(  1) Yikes ! I mean no offense. In any event I have several  sisters in law.  It just seems that whenever I visit SIL  "M" the converstaion turns a bit dark, in my effort to spare Cyn endless nihilistic conversations.  To my SILs : I love you all. 
2  (2) Yikes! It's  SsIL   sorry, grammar police.