Pretty much everyone--everyone--asks me, when they see me, "How are you feeling?" I actually appreciate the concern. A lot.
It kind of feels like a let-down to tell them, as I have been because it's true, "Just fine, actually, thanks." No--really it isn't true. I spend most winters sneezing and coughing and hacking around a sore throat, with my hands chapped and raw from the sanitising solution at Starbucks. I don't really know how I've escaped all that this winter, but if I were going to be really honest, I should have been going around saying, "I feel great, thanks."
(Nobody gets that enthusiastic about anything in New England, though.)
Anyway, it might come as something of a relief to all involved that, having gone through most of the cancer treatments with shamelessly few effects, I can now say in answer to the "How are you?" question, "Kind of horrible, actually."
It would appear that the cold/flu thing I've been dodging all winter has finally caught up with me. Meanwhile, tamoxifen seems to be going pretty well, except that it is refusing to allow me to sleep. I don't think I've had a full night of sleep since I started taking it. Which might explain why the cold/flu thing caught up with me, I guess. Also hot flashes. Those are weird, people. I really hope I don't have them (and sleeplessness) for the ensuing five years I'm on this stuff . . .
But otherwise? I'm feeling great, thanks.