Limbo

I'm in the weird post-diagnosis, pre-chemo state of cancer.

I've already had the strange glances at the port on my chest, people asking if I'm OK while pointedly staring at the incisions... Is is wrong that I said, "No, I'm fine..." to someone at work? Is it worse that I told the truth to the very next person who asked? I feel almost guilty when I tell the truth to some people and withhold from others. I feel strange when I say "I'm fine" when, technically, I'm not. I feel even more strange if there's a rush of emotion, and I find my voice cracking when I say, "I have cancer." That makes me feel like a fraud.
I feel like I've already failed to live up to the "survivor" label every time I have to assure someone that it's not a matter of *if* I lose my hair, but *when* I lose it, and that my preparation is not a sign that I've (already) given up.

I probably sound ungrateful right now, but really, I'm not. I know that I'm profoundly lucky to have so many people thinking about me and praying for me and helping me.

It's a dichotomy.
I'm supposed to be appropriately somber. I must be unapologetically courageous. I should have ridiculous optimism.
Unfortunately, on my best days, I'm crass. I have a twisted sense of humor. I'm a cynic.

I'm much more likely to tell a off-color cancer joke than lead a kumbaya.

If my joke is funny, though, please laugh with me.