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Mortality in the Time of Covid

I could put this in a Facebook post, but I'd rather put it here. I am terrified of getting the coronavirus & Covid-19. I have asthma, am overweight, have high blood pressure, and a history of cancer. I'm super high risk. Since I started working at home on 3/18/20, I have taken my temperature multiple times because of chest tightness. (It was asthma flaring up from allergies & stress.). I've coughed multiple times and been asked if I'm ok. (I was, the cough was productive.) I've left our house on average once per week for groceries and am horrified to see how few people seem to be taking this seriously.

In Arizona, we have a governor who up until late last week, thought hair & nail salons were essential services. Pretty sure golf courses are still on the list though. He refuses to issue a REAL shelter in place order and I worry what will happen. We've even made international news. There are SO MANY people here - and elsewhere - that think that getting out & about is somehow sticking it to the virus. The virus isn't an actual terrorist. This isn't 9/11 and you're not being brave. You're being fucking selfish & ignorant. 

I've read multiple articles that debate whether or not people can safely 'hang out' as long as it's outside. The consensus is that it's not a good idea. If there's a gust of wind, it can carry droplets from even someone speaking. As a homebody who does actually like to go out sometimes, this is hard and I recognize it. I know it's more difficult for my more social friends. 

There's a tweet I saw recently saying that the situation we're in is like Schrödinger's virus: we both do and do not have it. To find out we have to be tested, but there is not widespread testing. We all have to behave as though we are infected in order to keep everyone safe. 

In a breast cancer group I'm part of, multiple members are presumptive-positive. I'm not sure how many have actually been tested. In my own friend group online, 2 are presumptive positive (that I know of). They were not tested. I keep being grateful that I am not currently in treatment for cancer - any stage of it - then I feel guilty because so many people are, including a friend who has basically been isolated for a lot longer than the rest of us because chemo has fucked her immune system.

I don't have a lot more in this without devolving it into a rant about the casual cruelty & ineptitude of the current administration but let me close with what has been playing in my mind for awhile now, pretty much all the time as I try to remain a productive employee and keep a reasonably positive attitude. If I get covid, it will probably be bad (asthma). If things get really bad in Arizona doctors have to start trying to decide who lives and dies (aka who gets a ventilator), which has happened in Italy and if it's not happening in New York, it will probably reach that point. In that situation, if I get sick enough that I'm sent to a hospital (where I will be alone), there is one ventilator and a choice between me and a person who does not have underlying conditions, I'm not getting the ventilator. I will be the one who gets made comfortable.

And I also know that quite a few dear friends will end up not getting picked for the ventilator, too. It's a devastating realization.

So seriously. I don't care how much you want to get out of the house. Don't go visit family or friends. Don't crowd open areas like parks (national parks are largely closed now because of this nonsense), trails, etc, etc. You can't maintain physical distancing if everyone shows up to walk/ride/whateeverthe fuck. Walking in the neighborhood, the backyard, or a "sad Zumba video" (as Amarise put it) isn't nearly as interesting, but it's safer for everyone. 

Use any of the available video chat apps. Unless you have to go to work (which, my god - I feel so bad for everyone who has to go to work outside their home right now), unless you have a reason to be making a brief, properly physically distanced trip to a store for supplies. STAY THE FUCK HOME.

Fear & Cancer

Awhile back, I read an article from The Mighty about someone who was not ready to say they were "cancer free". It's a great read. I personally choose to use the terminology "no evidence of disease." For one, it's precise, which I like in discussing medical & scientific things. For another, it feels less like a jinx. Because yes, I'm a wee bit superstitious and running around proclaiming myself "cancer free" feels like tempting fate.

Here's the thing - no matter how much evidence there is that there is no more cancer in my body, the fear is still there. There roughly 5% chance of recurrence - probably less due to medications. I see my oncologist on a regular schedule and labs are drawn almost every month. Tumor markers are monitored. Which brings me to something that happened last month. 

January saw a great oncology follow up she said my labs were great, which was nice because my lymphedema had flared up massively to cause swelling in just a hand and rarely, that's evidence of a cancer recurrence. The week after that visit was my usual shot & labs. Two days after the blood draw, as I was pulling into a parking space at work, they called. "Your tumor markers are elevated." And with those 5 words it felt like the world dropped out from under me. Tears started immediately. The nurse said it could be a lab error and to rule that out, I should get the test run again. So I made arrangements to take a PTO day, went home, got Jason, then went to their office.

We spent time the rest of the day doing things I wanted to do, and I cried off & on. I had a lot of anger, too, because seriously. What the fuck. The whole point of having my breasts amputated and going through radiation that made my chest look like the worst sunburn of my life was to reduce the risk of this bullshit. How could things have changed so much from one month to the next? They told me it could be Monday til I got results. Things like "it's probably a mistake" and "try to relax" were...not very helpful. Mostly. I mean, the difference in the value was high enough that it was either an error or I was probably dying. (Marker for December was 18, January was 46. Acceptable value less than or equal to 30.)

Friday morning, they called as I was about to leave for work. I answered because, if they said I had cancer again, there's no way I was going in. However, it WAS a lab error. Now, before anyone starts to question - let me explain how this could happen because I politely asked them. The samples are processed off site, so if ANYTHING goes wonky with the sample, it can affect the results. Nicely, the tumor markers were lower than they were the previous month, (13), so that's something cool.

For almost a full 24 hours, I thought my cancer was back. 

I didn't tell a lot of people about this or talk about it much. Not even when it was in the past and I found out there had been a mistake. Cancer is the fucking worst. Even when it's gone it lives in your head, your emotions, and the trauma response for me was lighting fast automatic. 

Maybe one day I'll be someone who says they're cancer free, but that is not this day. Anytime in the near future isn't looking good either.

a wonderful card given to me by a close friend.