Breast Cancer Warrior: Chemo in the Time of Coronavirus

Every news story I've watched or read the last two weeks has included some angle about the coronavirus. It’s insane how intensely (and how quickly) this has impacted the lives of everybody. “Social distancing” is the new lifestyle, and, at least here in Wisconsin, most places have closed, including libraries, schools, bars, churches, malls, and gyms, and other places are operating with restrictions, like credit unions that are only using their drive-thru area or restaurants that only offer pick-up service. It's unnerving to see so many shutting their doors, but I did read an article this weekend that offered the hope that if we do this whole "social distancing" thing correctly-- and quickly-- we'll be able to get back to normal sooner than later. The same article describes a rather bleak outlook if we don't do this right, so I'm trying to think positively. Still, I think it's fair to say that this is a rather troubling time. 

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It’s especially frightening when dealing with cancer and chemotherapy amidst a health crisis. Chemo has weakened my normally not-so-bad immune system to the point that I’m still dealing with a cold that I had when I started chemo nearly two months ago. To be fair,  I think most of my symptoms from my cold are finally gone-- maybe it’s truly leaving!-- and I am just dealing with an extremely runny nose (which I'm partially blaming on the fact that all my nose hairs are now gone). One odd phenomenon about these closures is that, with chemo and a newborn, I was already not going out much. I was trying to keep Corey and me both away from germs as well as needing more rest than usual from the effects of chemo. Now, with everyone else stuck at home, I feel oddly more connected. In facing a pandemic, we're suddenly all in this boat together, in a weird, distant way.


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Times like these can bring out the best or the worst in people. I'm sure everyone's seen frustrating stories about people who are hoarding toilet paper and cleaning supplies, but I've also seen a lot of positive stories in my own community. In a local Facebook group, residents have been asking if their elderly neighbors need someone to grab groceries or supplies for them for them or if people who suddenly have their children at home need free assistance with childcare. I even saw one local family leaving a table of canned goods and paper products out in their driveway for any neighbors in need. Stories like these show how a crisis can bring out the best in people.

When I first saw COVID-19 spiraling closer to home, I found myself thinking, "Seriously?! Can we not do a global pandemic when I'm going through chemotherapy?" The timing was ridiculous enough that I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry.  (I mean, for real, what are the odds?!) Then, I quickly realized that everyone has their own issues that they're facing during this crisis, whether it's a health issue like myself...or being laid off for an unknown amount of time...or facing additional stress if your job takes you to the front line in battle against the virus...or fear if you find yourself ill....or even simply feeling disconnected from others when you can't go about life as usual. We all have our unique struggles, but we can unite to make them less difficult. I was comforted by all of the people who reached out to me when they heard about my breast cancer diagnosis, and I hope we can all reach out to one another as we together face this unprecedented time. While keeping a six-foot distance, of course. ;)

Breast Cancer Warrior: Two Under Two Plus Cancer

I had a really weird dream the other night. I was in a dimly-lit room, a combination movie theatre/computer lab/lecture hall. A large projector screen that took up the entire front of the room, and rows of desks and swivel chairs led up a staircase toward the back of the room. At a front table separate from the rows of desks, I stood beside people who, despite their different appearance in my dream, I knew to be the oncology staff. My doctor was explaining the results of another test, which were projected on the huge screen-- some colors and shapes on a skeletal outline.

For some bizarre reason, I was also trying to teach my students at the same time from this position at the front of the room, though they weren't just my college or high school students. Students of all ages were coming up to me and asking about schoolwork that they had on their own computer screens. Some waved me over to desktop computers that were anchored to the desks; others carried tablets over to me. I moved throughout the room to assist everyone. Many were calling my name and asking questions at the same time. Then, the big screen that was supposed to be showing my test results kept switching to math equations and reading selections from the students' computers. (I don’t know why my dream students were asking me to solve math problems-- they were going to be sorely disappointed with the results.)

During all of this chaos, the doctor and nurses followed me around, trying to get me back to the front of the room. Whenever the screen switched to a student’s work, the doctor and nurses had to try to figure out how to get my results back on the screen. At one point, a small kid ran over asking for help with his iPad, and I realized it was my oldest son, Rayden, but with red hair. I showed him how to type out the letters to move a little mouse icon across a huge ditch -- some kind of game he was playing. When I turned around, there were now two new doctors telling me that they couldn’t see my test results here and that we needed to do another test instead.

I felt like I was being pulled in multiple directions throughout the dream-- from the doctors to the students asking questions to my own son wanting help with his little game. I remember my head turning back and forth throughout the dream, always spotting someone demanding something from behind me no matter what direction I turned.

I woke up with a start. When I recounted the dream to my husband, minutes later, I realized aloud that it was basically my life right now: being pulled in so many directions. I laughed. It hadn’t been a scary dream, just a vividly realistic and slightly off-putting one. I guess I do feel that I’m being pulled in different ways and that I don’t always have control of the direction. I’m not sure if my subconscious thinks I’m handling it well or not the way the dream played out. 

While they weren’t present in my dream, my two youngest have pulled me in different ways, as well. Not in a bad way. Just in a busy way where I spend a lot of time feeding tiny people, cleaning up after them, and changing diapers. I enjoy watching my kids’ antics. The other day, after bath time, when I thought my middle child was snugly wrapped in his towel toga for a second so that I could grab a glass of water from the kitchen, he suddenly came dancing in, completely naked, playing a toy harmonica.

Moments like this, I can’t help but laugh. It’s entertaining to watch all three of my kids interact, too. My oldest asks nonstop questions, both serious and humorous, about everything under the sun, from his schoolwork to my appearance to philosophical ponderings about life and death. My toddler’s favorite pastime is pulling all of the puzzles and board games off the shelf and spreading the detritus throughout the house. Even the newborn watches his brothers with wide eyes, taking it all in, probably learning how to pull a book off the shelf at the perfect angle so that all of the other toys come tumbling down, or how to smash banana bread into clothing at the right consistency so that it doesn’t come off.

While it can be chaotic, I think it’s also comforting. It might be easier to feel more down about the cancer if I wasn’t watching my kids cuddle (or, let's be honest, wrestle is probably a more accurate word most of the time, but I swear they're wrestling in a loving way). I can look around my house and see that I have my own little team of supporters right at home with me every day, cheering me up, making me laugh, and keeping me busy-- usually all at once.