Protection
I’m not one for waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. During the four years I’ve had stage 4 ovarian cancer, two of which I was in remission, I have spent very little time lying in bed thinking about my mortality. I have to explain to people that there are times I’m awake in the middle of the night, but I’m just awake, not fearful or worrying about dying.
I mostly pushed off coronavirus fears, too, until this past Monday night. I knew I’d have to self-isolate, self-quarantine, when the disease reached this area, but I was waiting for some specific direction or (given our nation’s poor response) “a sign.” Monday night I read a piece that has been widely available on Facebook, by Italian doctor Daniele Macchini, describing in detail not just what it means to work in a hospital overwhelmed by the virus, but also exactly what people are dying from and how they are dying. It was the first time I saw the term “bilateral interstitial pneumonia” and a description of what it means for every space in one’s lungs to fill with fluid.
That kept me up.
Because my cancer is stage 4, I have thought about death. I’ve been lucky in that these considerations have not been fearful. I often say there are worse ways to die than cancer. The chances of dying at home, surrounded by family, and getting to say good-bye, are pretty good with cancer, if that’s the way one wants to arrange things. With cancer, there’s time to reconcile relationships and, for me at least, there has been lots of time to learn about love and being loved. Things one doesn’t learn if one is killed in a car accident, for example.
And so I found, after reading the FB post, my primary thought was: “Covid 19 is not going to mess up my death.” I find myself protecting not my life but my death. I mean, of course I don’t want to die now, and I’ve been doing everything necessary medically to prolong my life. I’m receiving chemotherapy once a month in an attempt to kill the cancer that has recurred in my right lung. Because it is my lung that is most affected, I’m conscious of how lethal covid 19 would be for me and also of what it feels like to have a compromised lung. My main thought as I thought about that FB post was: If I get this, I don’t want to be taken to an emergency room or hospital. I want to go on home hospice, which I hope will be available.
I woke up determined to self-isolate starting that day. Our local colleges came back from spring break on Monday — it’s safe to assume that covid 19 is here. Despite a lack of testing, the first case in Stearns County was confirmed yesterday. It does feel like the country is saying “it’s time,” too, with major cancellations of sports seasons and entertainment.
So I will stay home. Spring is a good time for that, with all I need to do starting plants and raising chicks and getting the garden in order. I have creative endeavors to pursue, too. That third season of Fargo to watch on Hulu. I’m thinking of taking on some sort of baking challenge (I never bake).
Hunkering down is something that suits me. It feels like an opportunity as much as a restriction. See you on the other side of the outbreak.
