“I Call Bullshit.”

I’ve gotten some of the most wonderful, caring, generous responses from people about thyca, round II. I know it’s an impossible reaction to calibrate — there’s shock, concern, fear, a desire to comfort me and help me cope. To be honest, I haven’t been the most calibrated as I’ve shared the info. Last time, I went on a binge, calling just about everyone I knew and telling the same story at least 50 times (no exaggeration) in a 72-hour span. This time around, I haven’t had the same energy. Not because I’m tired from the cancer, but because I know how these conversations go, and they’re tough to do many times in a row. Some of you have learned about what’s going on through e-mail (and then, not always with the best crafted, softest words), and some have heard through the grapevine. (Side note: To those who have shouldered some of the burden of spreading the news, you have my utmost gratitude. Though I probably should have written up and shared a Q&A to help you answer the same questions I’ve gotten.)

I dumped my update on two friends today. One happened over what was expected to be a catch-up, gossipy lunch. The other was in response to an e-mail looking for time for a catch-up, gossipy lunch. But both came back with nearly identical responses: “I call bullshit.”

They nailed it. Me too. Cancer, I call bullshit.

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