#42 Isolation Update

To be very honest, my life hasn't changed all that much since January. All I don't do now is go to the grocery store maybe once every few days. And the gym is out too but I really only went once or twice a week and I was paranoid of germs the whole time anyway.

Now the outside world feels just like my cutting board when I'm chopping raw chicken. Everything is covered in bacteria, every surface is lethal.

I've had to stop myself from reading reports of death rates for people with cancer. I know it's three times higher. That's really not going to change. Me knowing about it and fearing everyday contracting the virus isn't going to help me. It certainly doesn't reduce my stress levels, which is important for me in my fight against cancer. So....I just do what I can.

I stay home, go nowhere. My kids stay home and go nowhere. Jason does the grocery shopping, he wears a mask, he sanitizes and maintains a distance. He has a technique when he goes shopping where he wears his mask and coughs randomly to keep people away. He said today someone turned their cart right around when they saw him coming. It's genius.

We try to grocery shop for 4-5 days, and I'm getting better and better at planning meals so that he can limit his exposure. The problem is I juice so much fresh produce that it's hard to stock it for weeks at a time. A person can only hold so much kale at once. I have coolers going outside with my produce and it seems to be manageable but I have had to make some changes to how I eat and accept that I won't be able to get all the things I want now. It's another adjustment we all are making I'm sure.

Jason said today at Fortino's that the cashier wouldn't let him approach until she had disinfected the belt and he had to stay behind the red line and bag his own stuff. I believe that people are trying and am grateful for the cashiers that still work, for the people who stock the shelves and the truck drivers who get it there. It's been eye-opening to realize just how many people we each depend on everyday. None of us can do it alone. We all need each other.

Anyway, when the food comes home I wipe all the cardboard and packaging with Lysol wipes and wash the produce in vingear and water and then wash the surfaces they touched and then wash my hands. It's an ordeal. I do it to feel better, it gives me some sort of a sense of control when I really can control so little.

Having cancer is very much like what most people are experiencing now. All of a sudden your life changed so much. There is a very real threat to your health out there and although there are some things you can do, it's impossible to completely protect yourself or know what the future will hold. It's scary and you're battling an invisible enemy. The things you used to do, you can't and there's no cure. There's no guarantee you won't die. You just have to do what you can and have hope in science and other people.

In a way I feel a little more mentally prepared for this change in society because I've been in germ protection mode since January and already have accepted the fragility of life but in another way I feel like this adds a level of horror to my sometimes already nightmarish days. Who gets diagnosed with cancer three months before the biggest pandemic of modern times? Clearly me. I try not to feel sorry for myself. There's still hope as long as I stay cooped up in my house and people around me are careful to follow instructions.

On a good note; I finally am starting to feel normal again. The bone pain has receded, it comes and goes but it totally bearable. It's been a week since the worst pain and although I feel tired after doing too much, I feel OK. I can eat more with this type of chemo. Tonight I had a spicy chicken curry. I have been slugging back L-glutamine to rebuild my gut so I think that has something to do with it too.

I have had a skin reaction to the Taxol, it's like little itchy bumps all over my arms. This means that it's possible the next infusion my body will reject the Taxol and I'll have to have some more drugs and a pause. It's also possible nothing happens just like last time. I don't know. So much uncertainty.

I have an appointment on Wednesday to have my blood taken to see if my immune cells are high enough to be wiped out again by chemo. I'm supposed to have an appointment after that with my oncologist and I've heard some appointments are being done by phone but I haven't been told of a change yet. When I go I'll have some questions to ask.

My fear is that if this virus stresses the hospitals too much that maybe my chemo will be delayed, or my surgery will be delayed and if that happens I'll have to live with the cancer in my body for longer. These thoughts along with contracting the actual virus are the ones that if I let them can consume me can start the downward spiral that I so want to avoid.

On the plus side, I am spending such wonderful time with my babies and Jason. My sister and my brother in law came before all the isolation talk with my nephew and we've all been isolating together and it's been fun. It's nice for everyone to have nowhere to go so we can just hang out. The kids don't realize how it's going to be yet. I don't think it's hit them.

They will spend some time with their Dads soon and I hope they only spend time with them, and that their Dads will also be isolating. If my kids get sick I couldn't imagine not being able to care for them or do mom things for them. There are so many worries these days but there are also so many things to look around and be grateful for.

Our government for updating us and trying to slow the outbreak and for making new legislation to protect businesses and people, the people who continue to go to work at the grocery stores and pharmacies, the countless drivers and delivery people who shuttle goods, the medical professionals who work tirelessly, emergency services that risk their safety to go into unknown situations to keep us safe, the people who are donating to others, neighbours who are helping neighbours, the business owners who are operating in uncertainty and everyday people staying home to help save lives.

Cancer is scary, but it has showed me the kindness and generosity of so many people in my life, some I barely know. Cancer created darkness but the light and love of all those people lit up the corners of the dark days. I see this current pandemic in much the same way.

There is a lot we could be afraid of in these dark times, but look around, there are bright lights everywhere and always a reasons to hope and believe in the good of other people and our resiliency as individuals and as a species.