It so happened that I got my diagnosis five minutes before I was set to report for a day of volunteer work. In fact, one of the first things that flew out of my mouth in the doctor’s office was that this really wasn’t the best time to have cancer because several people were awaiting my chopping skills at that very moment. In the car, I rationalized that cancer doesn’t affect one’s chopping skills, at least not in the early stages when you feel completely fine, and so I should still go. It wasn’t until I almost crashed into the car in front of me for no good reason that I decided it would probably be wise to back out before the inevitable wreckage ensued, emotional or otherwise. I mean, if there were ever a good excuse, this was it. Still, I hate reneging on a commitment, and trying to figure out the best way to extricate myself was a welcome distraction from the larger issue.
Me: You’re already late. You need to call them.
Me: And tell them what? That I can’t come, I have cancer?
Me: Yes.
Me: I can’t do that. They barely know me. What are they going to say?
Me: They’ll say something nice and get off the phone as quickly as possible, which will work out well for everyone.
Me: But they’re not going to believe me.
Me: Nobody uses cancer to get out of stuff.
Me: I make shit up all the time. Everybody knows that.
Me: Okay, well, if lies are your medium of choice then you’d better outdo yourself this time because you’re totally screwing them over.
Me: Not me. Cancer.
Me: Whatever.
Me: Think the flat tire bit will work?
Me: Lame.
Me: Car accident?
Me: No, too many follow-up questions.
Me: One of the kids is sick?
Me: Do not involve the children in your lies.
Me: Okay. How about this? I was on my way to the location when things weren’t right intestine-wise.
Me: So far, so good.
Me: I pulled over to the side of the road and ran out to throw up when somebody jumped in and stole my car. Of course, my cell phone wasn’t charged as usual and nobody wants to pick up a vomiting hitchhiker, so I had to walk all the way to the police station. But they found my behavior suspicious, what with the early morning vomiting and my inability to walk in a straight line while vomiting, and arrested me for DUI right after I filed my missing vehicle report. So that’s why I can’t volunteer today. I mean, unless you have $5000 bail.
Me: Perfect!
Were you that kid in school who invented elaborate, possibly-plausible reasons for why you didn't have your homework?
Posted by: adele | June 07, 2009 at 02:57 PM
Gawd I hate lying. I also hate bringing attention to myself (hello, blog!) so I never know what is worse: having to keep up some big lie or just telling them the truth and having to answer questions.
Posted by: katie | June 07, 2009 at 05:04 PM
I would totally have this type of conversation with myself.
Posted by: MidLifeMama | June 07, 2009 at 07:26 PM
See what happens when you mix tequila and potato chips?
Posted by: Jess | June 08, 2009 at 10:31 AM
Oh, Tammy - I am a lurker just catching up and this really sucks balls... Your outlook is exactly what will get you through this and will only make you a stronger, more bad-ass person in the end.
I have personally known 3 amazing women that have had breast cancer. All three have survived and are completely healthy today. Keep the humor, the crazy imagination and the ridiculousness and you will be just fine.
Posted by: Kelley | June 08, 2009 at 01:57 PM
Do you think Nonni went through this same process... or did she just make her stories up on the fly?
Posted by: Sis | June 08, 2009 at 02:32 PM
Wow, now I know who to go to when I need a really good excuse for something....
Posted by: Linda | June 08, 2009 at 03:22 PM
Har!
When you wake up from anesthesia, you are going to be cracking jokes. Guaranteed.
That's what I was doing when I awoke after ("C" but not breast) surgery. A long time ago.
xxx
Posted by: cookiecrumb | June 08, 2009 at 06:17 PM
How you manage to maintain your sense of humor is beyond me. But brava. And hang in there.
Posted by: Amy | June 08, 2009 at 08:28 PM
Amy: Thanks. The worse it is, the funnier it has to be. That's the equation.
CC: I had no idea. Another survivor! Woo hoo! As for the joke-cracking, you will be so disappointed if we ever meet. I can't tell a joke to save my life. No kidding.
Linda: I need about a 20-minute head start, though.
Sis: My guess is on the fly. She never missed a beat.
Kelley: Thanks so much. That's great to hear!
Jess: Next time I'll just stick to tequila.
MidLifeMama: Thank goodness I'm not the only one with the krazy.
katie: My penchant for doctoring the truth is born out of a desire to simplify a situation and/or prevent unnecessarily awkward encounters. However, it usually ends up making things worse, so I think your instinct is correct. Luckily, the excuse I actually used had some basis in reality, though I like the car-jacking story better.
adele: Believe it or not, that wasn't me. I ALWAYS did my homework!
Posted by: Tammy | June 09, 2009 at 05:27 PM
I'm calling you next time I need a story. Really.
Posted by: Wendy | June 19, 2009 at 11:39 PM