Coping With Cancer During Covid

Autoethnography

Introduction

In the Fall of 2020, I wrote an autoethnography about coping with cancer during the Covid-19 pandemic based of my family’s personal experiences. The project utilized my qualities research and writing skills. I collected data by researching about cancer, recording my experiences, and interviewing my family members. Afterward, I reviewed my data, scanning for patterns, asking myself, what methods of coping or difficult experiences repeated? I pulled the themes of different emotional process, change in living habits, interaction with medical professionals to synthesize into a report. Within the report, I used quotations and facts to authenticate my findings. Also, I wrote scenes to apply to reader’s emotional appeal. Names were changed or redacted as my family requested. Three years later, my paper still captures unique data and stories during a world-changing history.

Essay

The air chilled my fingers, but my mind payed not attention. The exposure to the breeze was futile compared to the chance of covid infected patrons indoors. Besides, the outdoor section of Eggspectations, the restaurant where my mom and I were having lunch with another mother and daughter duo, had a peaceful view. While some restaurants looked out to a busy street or highway, ours peered out to a quiet townhouse neighborhood separated from us by a wide road and a small grass field. The light from the open sky reflected on the pavement beside us. It radiated a warming presence. The sunshine was nice, comforting.

But the sun never shines forever.

Ring. Ring.

I glance over to the left side of the table. My mom’s iPhone vibrated back and forth. She quickly excused herself and walked towards the end of the street. Her voice was hidden by the distance and the wind. Turning my gaze back to my company, we continued our conversation as nothing had occurred. Although, a part of me wondered who was on the other end of the phone. I knew that morning my grandma and great aunt had attended a doctor’s appointment. It’s probably about my great aunt, I thought. I didn’t dare display any trouble in my expression, not wanting to worry our friends.

My mom returned before our food arrived, but she was gone for at least a few subjects to enter and pass our discussion. She apologized as her hand reached for her chair and sat down. Her tone echoed with a friendly laughter. However, I knew there was something she wasn’t revealing. I leaned my head toward her and asked, “What was your phone call about?”

She whispered, “We’ll talk about it later.”

I nodded.

The lunch continued as if nothing had occurred.

When we waved goodbyes in the parking lot out front, my mom and I got into my old Chevy Trail Blazer. Closing the door to the driver’s seat, I shifted myself toward my mom. Her lips frowned, and then I realized then the words before they escaped her mouth. “Your great aunt has cancer.”

I sighed. My family and I knew my great aunt, Zoe, had been sick. At first, we believed it to be a flu bug or effects of being isolated for so long. As weeks turned into months, and her condition continued to fail, we knew something was wrong. Zoe finally agreed to visit a doctor again after some convincing from my mom and grandma. The doctor advised her to get tested. They mentioned cancer but were uncertain. We didn’t expect it to be true. No one on my grandmothers’ side, that we are aware of, had a history of cancer. Zoe never smoked, didn’t drink, watched what she ate, and visited the doctor when needed. It was more of a fear than reality. But then, reality became fear.

A switch flipped on in my head. “What do we do next?” I said.

If someone hears the news of cancer, one may expect them to cry or get angry. For me, my eyes were dry and my heartbeat calm and steady. The severity of my great aunt’s health did not hit me, at least, not emotionally, yet. My mind had shifted into what I call, “action mode.” It could be considered similarly to survival or work mode. When I enter this phase, I fixate on the issue at hand, form a mental list on what I need to do, and then do it. This happened when the president announced on national television the crisis of the coronavirus in March, six months before the diagnosis.  

My family and I were gathered together in the living room, where the only source of light illuminated from the flat screen in front of us. The news channel was on, a strange occurrence for my household. We never usually watched the news together, or at least my brother and I never did, especially consecutive days in a row. However, this was no ordinary week. This was no ordinary night. A national emergency address was airing on tv.

Our eyes were glued to the screen displaying President Trump resting his entwined hands on his desk in the oval office. His gaze peered straight at the camera as if he was directly looking at the American people. We watched his speech until he concluded, “Our future remains brighter than anyone can imagine. Acting with compassion and love, we will heal the sick, care for those in need, help our fellow citizens, and emerge from this challenge stronger and more unified than ever before.

“God bless you, and God bless America. Thank you.”

That is when the switched happened. When I recognized that this new virus had invaded my home. I knew during the past few weeks the virus was a serious issue. Before leaving college for spring break, I packed my suitcase with all my valuables: clothes, class notebooks, laptop, phone, anything I preferred to have in case I could not return to campus. However, coronavirus, or covid, was no longer a fear but reality, like my great aunt’s cancer.

Unlike Zoe’s cancer, there is no simple solution. I can’t spend my day driving to three different grocery stores, filling the basket with frozen and perishable foods, and search through the empty isles for toilet paper. I can’t wear a handmade mask for extra protection whenever I leave my house. I can’t stop making dentist or hair appointments. There were still many unknowns in her health. Her doctors wanted to take some more test to learn specifics. All we could do was wait.

My great aunt acted optimistic about the situation. She believed, “You can’t cry over something you can’t change. All you have to do is go forward. And ah, do what you need to do in order to get this thing cured.” However, I imagine it was hard for her, even though she never directly told me. Waiting is never easy. I know it was hard for us, like for my grandma.

One night in my dorm room, talking on the phone with my grandma I asked, “How do you feel about all of it?”

She replied, “I…I don’t…I don’t feel anything. I’m kinda…I’m kinda numb, you know. I can’t allow myself to feel a bunch of stuff because I can’t allow myself to get involved in the emotions of it because I have to be, like she says I’m her rock, so I have to be strong for her. So I kinda have to shut down my own emotions to make sure that I can be strong and…and, you know, forecast that positivity, and…and um, hope, and um prayers in her direction, so she know[s] ‘that you’ll be fine.’”

Furthermore, when I was living at home, I noticed the effects of Zoe’s cancer on my mom. One morning, my mom rested on the living room’s couch with our German Sheppard puppy, Max, curled up in her lap. My brother and I sat at the smaller couch adjacent to her. The conversation started casual, with my brother and I remarking on how the puppy appeared regal, with his tiny head and pointy ears standing up. He observed the room like a Prince watching his subjects. Then the mood shifted. I don’t remember exactly when she brought it up, but my mom revealed Zoe’s health was failing, contradictory to a previous phone call I had with Zoe a few days ago; she was throwing up. My mom feared that we would have to send Zoe to the hospital if her condition worsened. My eyes studied my mom’s face. Her eyes gazed out in the distance as she talked. I wondered if her mind was imagining all the different possibilities that could come. 

She was not the only one who imagined the worst. As I elaborated earlier, when I learned about my great aunt’s cancer, my mind shifted into “action mode.” But I grew tired in the waiting. So, I brainstormed an idea. What if my semester project for my writing class I wrote about my great aunt? Originally, I had planned to interview teachers and how their teaching methods changed since covid. Although, since the cancer news I felt distant with the project. Whatever sense of meaning or purpose I saw in it before disappeared, especially as news about my great aunt got worse. I wanted to do something for her. That’s when my new idea manifested, and I began to reimagine my project. I wrote in my journal, I’m unsure on exactly what I can do… but it feels more interesting than my other project idea on how teachers cope with covid. Discussing it over with my professor and asking my family for permission, I switched the focus of my project.

Since then, to help me filter my emotions, I immersed my thoughts into this paper. Anytime I received an update in my great aunt’s condition, I recorded notes of what I learned and people’s reactions on my phone. Additionally, I conducted interviews, like with my great aunt, to learn more details about their experiences.

During my interview with Zoe, we discussed how cancer, which she refers to as the “Big C”, and covid have changed her daily life. I asked, sitting in the metallic blue chair with a blue and white cushion on Zoe’s back deck, “Besides treatment, how has your routine changed with covid, along with cancer?”

My great aunt, who sat about six feet diagonal from me, answered, “I’m more restricted on what I can do, basically okay. This doesn’t mean I won’t go out if I want like uh a chicken sandwich or something. It’s very comfortable for me, ya know, because I will sit in an area where there’s sun. And, it’s just getting out of the house, okay. And it will be, you know, going to McDonalds or something like that, you got a big parking lot there that you can park in because the Food Lion is no longer there. I will find a nice spot in the parking lot, turn on the radio, okay, listen to my rock n roll music or listen to the news, okay which is sorta depressing these days (she laughs) with all the political stuff going on. But those are little things I do that cheer me up a little bit, ya know.”  

Because of the pandemic, my great aunt was advised by her doctor to avoid large crowds. Since Zoe is unmarried and has no children, my grandma began to help her out by running basic errands. Every week she drove to Wegmans and shopped for her groceries and then, waited in the McDonalds drive through line to order her a chicken sandwich for lunch. Additionally, my grandma accompanied Zoe to any of her appointments or meetings. She explained to me, “Well, I have to be there to listen, because she’s always worried [that] she’ll lose her hair or something.” She laughed.

Although, my grandma is not the only person who stepped up to take care of my great aunt. My mom occasionally drives to the CVS or Walmart in town, and then pulls up to Zoe’s driveway, drops her medication or groceries at the door before leaving. My mom also schedules appointments for my great aunt and checks up with her over the phone or listens whenever she calls. Before covid, my mom and my great aunt conversed frequently, but now it has become a daily occurrence.

Besides gathering information about the ongoing occurrences in my family, I found myself trying to comprehend the meaning of the events around me. I looked for symbolism in my every daily life. One day, I found it in a pot of flowers.

I was near the bottom of a staircase that lead up to my back porch. At the edge of a rock patio, there was an orange-brown pot with little white flowers. The sunlight illuminated off its petals. They were so bright it was almost blinding. However, a swarm of flies hovered over them, polluting the tranquility of the scene. Eventually, the flies left, and the flowers shone alone. Life is like the flowerpot, I thought to myself. There are moments where life is good but then tragedy strikes and pollutes our lives. However, these things do not last forever. The shift between good and bad moments in our lives is a cycle of trials.

My journey reminded me that illnesses are trials, and during trials is the most important time to make good choices. The choices we make can impact who we are and others around us. One of those choices for me was if I should return to my university or not after they closed temporary because of a spike of covid cases during the opening week. I was disappointed to leave so soon, but I had hope to return the following month. However, when the school announced they would be reopening for the remainder of the semester, my heart did not beat with excitement, nor did a wide grin inhabit my face. It was only two weeks since Zoe was diagnosed with cancer. My life had changed. Although, there was no specifics on the treatment she would receive, or how much time she had. If she only had a month, then I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could. Although, I missed my college friends. I missed the adventure of living independently and being involved with my club organization, Cru. So, I decided to delay my return for two weeks and revaluate then.

When the time came, it was a difficult decision. My great aunts’ health appeared to be better, except there was still a lot of unknowns about her condition, including the specific type of cancer. Moreover, talking with friends and attending Cru meetings over zoom while everyone else was in person either laughing or smiling because they were having fun was hard. I felt like I was missing out and that I was disconnected from them. No matter if you are an introvert or an extrovert, we all need people. Whenever I spend time with my friends or family, it lifts the dark cloud floating above me since the first phone call. Hence why my family and I came up with a plan to go back to school for a month, and then get a covid test before returning for Thanksgiving Break. Not that my family and friends at home were not beneficial, but I needed to reconnect with my school life. It is important to keep moving forward and reconnecting with all the people we care about.

I have noticed that circumstances like these bring people back closer together. This happened with my great aunt and with some of her nieces and nephew in law. Zoe told me during our interview, “Tania and Gregory called me last night. I have barely heard from them before, okay. But now, they are calling me a lot.”

I asked, “So, when they called you last night, are you saying you didn’t hear from them before last night or since cancer?”

She clarified, “Since cancer. I didn’t hear from them much at all, ya know. I think this is establishing a better relationship. So, this is going to continue, ya know, because, I’ll make sure to call them.”

She also mentioned a reconnection with another ni. “Tiffany is calling me more, okay, I’ve never heard from her before. And she calls me, and we talk. And I always listen to her. I always tell her, I’m on team Tiffany, okay. I’ll support you through difficult situations you might be in.”

Moreover, my aunts and uncle are not religious people. If they have faith or not, I’m unsure. Regardless, my great aunt saw them reaching out as an opportunity to share hers. “And I think that is a good thing. And I’m not hesitant and I’m not a preach[y] person, okay, or try to evangelize everybody. But ya know, I’m very honest about my walk with the lord. I’ve always been that way. I’m not ashamed of my walk with the Lord. And ah, I’ll say little things here and there. I don’t expect them to believe it or not believe it. It doesn’t make any difference, because it’s what I believe.”

My great aunt’s spirituality was a major comfort as she coped. I asked, “And you said your faith helps you stay strong during this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she answered. “I turned it over to the Lord and uh he’s going to be in charge of my healing process. Um, it felt like he’s walking beside me. I just feel that he’s with me and that gives you a calm, which you don’t normally get [when going through] something that I’m going through.” 

My faith also helps me cope with hardships. Whenever I’m stressed or worried, I find a comfortable spot in my bedroom and talk out loud to Jesus or write a letter in my prayer journal, venting about my troubles. Every time I pray, like Zoe said, my anxieties wash away into calmness. Sometimes, when I’m speaking or writing them, or after I finish, the answer comes to me. Maybe this is because my brain was slowly solving my problem while thinking of what to say. Maybe the calmness is from me focusing my energy into doing something. But I like to believe that the Holy Spirit was working through me. Philippians 4:6-7 says, “Do not be anxious in anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” I believe this quote is a sign that God is always with those who place their trust in him.  

Although my great aunt and I are vocal about our faith, not everyone in my family was. I’m unsure of the specifics on how my other family members’ faith impacted how they cope with Zoe’s cancer. However, I did have the opportunity to ask my grandma during our conversation on the phone. She shared, “My faith has been between me and God, and I don’t have to go to a church, or building, or any place else to have my strong faith in God. I have him in my heart and I know that he’ll take care of me, and…um you know he’s the only person who you can turn to help you with the things in your life and to get through things. You just have to call upon his strength, and you know, the love of God to continue to keep going.” If I were to guess, my other relatives have a similar mindset.

Even though we found out my great aunt has cancer in September, we are still waiting on further test results to determine the treatment she needs. Our difficult journey is not over. But working on this project, has made the experience easier for me and has been a learning experience. I was reminded that even when the world feels hopeless and broken, you cannot give up. Like my grandma says, “You always have to have hope and be positive and…and you know sometimes the hardest things you go through, you come out the strongest…and you win.”