[2021-12-19] Coping with COVID and cancer

In matters of health, sometimes the news we get is worse than expected, other times it is as expected, and occasionally it's better than expected.

For instance, the news in 2020 that I had ovarian cancer and not simply a misbehaving gallbladder was worse than I expected. The conclusion that I had stage 3 ovarian cancer was as expected. And my CA125 results over the past year have been better than expected.

In the case of my perianal skin cancer, the news has been worse than expected at almost every step. A biopsy found that the patch of skin in my perianal area previously thought to be innocuous actually contained precancerous cells. The pathology report following surgery concluded that I actually had a cancerous tumour (removed in the operation) in addition to precancerous cells (remaining in the margins of the incision following surgery). My referral to radiation and medical oncologists was not expected to result in recommendations to proceed with radiation or chemotherapy; however, the radiation oncologist did propose radiation therapy (which I will start in early January). And the medical oncologist ordered an MRI to make sure that I don't have cancer in my pelvic lymph nodes (I'm hoping for good news on that front).

And let's not forget COVID. I'm not alone in confronting that health challenge. We have all faced worse news than any of us anticipated: longer lockdowns, more restrictive public health measures and less certainty than we would hope to have.

This has left some people feeling battered by the changing winds of the pandemic, asking themselves "how can we maintain optimism when the story keeps changing?" and "how can we be sure that the pandemic will ever end?

I understand these feelings. When we started to work from home in March 2020, many of us—myself included—thought that it would be for a few weeks. Those weeks turned to months, and those months, to years. The same is true of public health measures, which have either dragged on or been reinstated after a short reprieve.

I spoke with one person today who was looking for hope even while acknowledging that they were skeptical, since past hopes have been dashed many times.

I suggested to this person that I couldn't offer them facts, only opinions. I believe that we will one day emerge from the pandemic. All past plagues came to an end. The same will be true of this one. When that occurs is impossible to predict. An end to the pandemic may require that every person on the planet develop some level of immunity to the virus, either through multiple doses of a COVID vaccine or infection by the virus. Beyond vaccines, it may require the development and wide availability of effective treatments for those who do contract the virus. But this is only speculation on my part, as I'm not an expert.

In addition to my belief that we will one day prevail against the virus that causes COVID (and its variants), I can offer my perspective on how I'm coping with the ever-changing story that is COVID (as well as my own campaign against cancer):
  1. I understand that reality will always differ from even the best-conceived scenarios—no one can predict the future with 100% accuracy.
  2. I have confidence that whatever the world throws at me, I will be able to cope—I am not alone.
  3. I focus on today—I do not borrow worries from the future.
  4. I limit my consumption of negative news—I seek out positive stories.
  5. I surround myself with positive people—I avoid conversations with pessimists.
  6. I set my own boundaries—I respect other people's choices, but keep my distance when those choices conflict with my own.
  7. I practice gratitude—I find the good in every situation.
  8. I concentrate on what I can control—I let go of what I cannot control.
  9. I believe that healthcare professionals are doing the best that they can—they have our (my) best interests at heart.
  10. I take a break from the heaviness of COVID and cancer—my life is so much more than these two things.

A week ago, I sat in my mom's kitchen having a conversation with my extended family. Seven days later, the world has changed dramatically. As I contemplate another round of cancer treatments early in the new year, I will trade Christmas dinner with my extended family for an early afternoon bonfire outdoors with masks. In some ways, it's easier to accept this year's restrictions since we've all been here before.

I may not be where I expected I would be in December 2021. But I still have so much to be grateful for. I am alive. I am loved. And I am being well cared for.