She just wanted a few bites of lunch -- a few undocumented, unphotographed nibbles -- before she gave her speech Monday at the City Club of Cleveland.
But this was to be Elizabeth Edwards' first speech since last Thursday's jarring news conference with her husband. This was news.
As soon as she sat down at the head table, more than two dozen television cameramen and news photographers crowded in, aiming their long, fat lenses inches from her face.
Edwards started to raise her fork, then she put it down. She raised it again, then sighed and set it next to her plate.
"C'mon, guys," she said, too softly for most of them to hear. "Can I just eat a little lunch without you capturing my every bite?"
Immediately, several women seated at the table who did hear her started shooing them off, politely at first, and then not so politely when it was clear that good manners alone wouldn't yank the cord of conscience. By then, though, she seemed to have lost her appetite. She just picked at her food until it was time for her to speak.
If we don't get ahold of ourselves, we will wear out Elizabeth Edwards long before her cancer does.
Granted, that's no small undertaking.
Edwards is as durable and brave as they come, but there's only so much a person should be asked to endure, even if her husband is running for president. And there are moments when it is clear that we are asking too much.
The return of Elizabeth Edwards' breast cancer is a story, no doubt. She and her husband, John Edwards, announced last week that she had Stage IV cancer, which is incurable, but treatable. And despite the embarrassing lapse in judgment by a few trigger-happy reporters who declared otherwise, Elizabeth and John Edwards also insisted his presidential campaign was far from over.
They would carry on.
Right after that, things started to get out of hand. It was Elizabeth Edwards, all day, every day, dissected on newscasts, blogs and the front pages of newspapers across the country.
Was she in denial, or courageous?
Was she a role model of a mother, or neglecting the needs of her children?
Were she and her husband dedicated to each other and the country they loved, or just too ambitious for her own good?
The Edwardses insist they will lead a normal life - their version of normal, anyway. And that's important to remember in the midst of all the judgment calls and penalty flags being tossed their way. They are a political couple, used to casting a wide net. They have also survived the death of a child, and so they know better than any of us what works for them when it comes to marshalling forces.
The worst of the coverage for Elizabeth has been the relentless speculation about her odds for survival.
"I don't know the results of my biopsies, but apparently they do," she said, referring to the numerous "experts" predicting how and when she will die. When I asked if she pays attention to them, she shrugged.
"Some. You can't ignore all of them. I can't even turn on the TV without hearing how bad I'm doing."
Edwards knows the rules are different for those in public life, and experience serves her well right now. She knows it's often easier to be strong in a room full of strangers. You pull on the jacket, brush your hair and out you go, into a crowd that showed up just to see you.
Campaigns, though, are grueling, and it's the rare candidate or spouse who doesn't sometimes jigger a schedule to get a break. The current measure of scrutiny for Edwards, though, eliminates that option.
"I can't skip something if I want to, unless it's for health reasons," she said. "Otherwise, the slightest tinkering with the schedule, and the wild speculation begins."
It's an unreasonable, if not unconscionable, standard, and we are the ones imposing it.
Surely, we can behave better than this.
She hates when people wear what she calls their "poor Elizabeth" faces, and she's good at making them disappear. It's likely that some in the sold-out crowd at the City Club showed up expecting to shed a few tears at the sight of her, but they were in for a surprise. She was smart and quick, especially when taking questions on everything from health care to how her husband can win Ohio.
She was also wickedly funny, making herself the punch line after explaining that students need certain skills before they're willing to compete.
"I'm not going to wear a bikini when I know I can't win the contest," she said.
The room howled.
Elizabeth Edwards is very much alive.
And she intends to stay that way for a long, long time.