A fool in plain sight

A day late to April Fools and the cosmic prank of a cancer diagnosis

This newsletter most often reminds me of my short tenure writing for my high school newspaper, what with its weekly need to hit word counts and deadlines.

Back then, amidst the hard hitting journalism about the declining quality of french fries in the school cafeteria or misunderstanding how remarkable the boys swim team had been— my favorite issue was our April Fool’s issue. I enjoyed it because it was an opportunity to jettison the truth. After so many months adhering to boring facts, we were finally allowed creative freedom to offer nothing but false claims.

Yesterday was April Fool’s Day yet again, an Internet instance that has now become synonymous with dodging news headlines that make you do a double take.

This week, the lede here is low hanging fruit— it being that I wished my cancer had been one giant April Fool’s joke. I had given some thought to writing a completely fabricated post in the spirit of my high school days but in the world of cancer and its (apparently) many remedies, I didn’t want to get too chummy with half truths.

Much like the moment in a nightmare where you might sense the glimmer of a con, and you fumble at the ripcord of your subconscious to jettison yourself and feel the flooding relief that all is not real— cancer being a joke would have come as a welcome surprise.

But disbelief is a typical response to bad news. Whether real bad news or something as small as a flight delay or a favorite item being taken off of a restaurant menu— disbelief usually precedes acceptance.

Which is why I must admit to loving a good prank.

But a prank is always a little bit one sided. It is an asymmetrical experience wherein most people would prefer to be the pranker than the prankee. One person gets to hide with a smile and the other gets to be scared… There is almost always a sliver of cruelty to the prankster’s motivations, though the intended result is ideally humor and maybe something gained from the catharsis in the end.

In this way, a real cancer diagnosis can feel akin to being caught in a prank that never reveals itself. Moments unraveled where I was sure the curtain would be pulled back and some motley crew would reveal that I had been through enough and the lesson had been learned, whatever that may have been. Maybe a brush with death, maybe a test of mettle— either way, I had endured enough and we could all enjoy a nice laugh (and a heart attack) and move on with our lives.

In some ways, with enough distance from one or two or three diagnosees— that’s kind of how it feels. The mess of frantic antics that come with illness now have the impossible hue of gallows humor. Injuries heal and the bad memories (hopefully) fade. It certainly isn’t fair or funny to those who are newly diagnosed or going through treatment, but in the chance that reality returns, for me, the bad news eventually felt a touch farcical— as if it was some giant prank pulled by God or universe. A massive, can you believe that happened?

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Once for a work mixer, it was suggested the everyone introduce themselves with a game called Two Truths And A Lie. It is a game where you list two true facts about yourself along with one lie and then everyone has to pick out which of the three facts is the lie. It’s a little severe but it admittedly does get everyone to know each other oddly well, pretty quickly.

I really wanted to include myself having cancer as one of my facts. It felt like a small bit of mischief. I thought it might easily dupe people. I no longer hold any real physical markers of cancer and the weightiness of the word usually makes people flighty around it— and also, who would be brave enough to say, yeah… you kind of strike me as having had cancer. Or maybe if you’re playing the odds, it could feel outlandish enough to be true?

The mental gymnastics feels like an encapsulation of my relationship with my disease. It is one of many truths about myself— but it oftentimes now feels like a lie. And when I speak it aloud to someone, I sometimes feel as if I am pranking them, as if I am purposely putting them through a string of emotions— splash of doubt, hint of embarrassment, discomfort, sympathy— all for some personal gain. As if it now exists as a gotcha moment.

But we all have impossible stories ready to be deployed (with or without self-satisfied deviousness) when the truth bubbles to the surface. They are bits about ourselves that elicit a double take, surprising admissions or experiences that offer a surprised, “You? Really?”

It is strange to exist as an odd headline in the summary of my own life, but I am learning to make peace with the double take and even enjoying some of the disbelief— Because I’m finally beginning to feel in on the joke.

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Sensory Activation:

“Right Back To It”, Waxahatchee

Sometimes the single is the single for a reason. The first track released by Katie Crutchfield’s Waxahatchee arrived in the cold of January, but now that spring is threatening us with a good time, the airiness of this wistful tune feels like its primed to usher in some warm, summer nostalgia. The whole album’s great, but this track is still a show stopper. (And I’m a big MJ Lenderman fan so double points).

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