In the weeks leading up to my diagnosis, my life in the suburban outskirts of New York City mirrored that of countless others. My family and I were confined to our home, engaging in a routine of handwashing, sanitizing, and virtual gatherings. Our evenings were filled with board games and Netflix marathons, until one fateful night when everything shifted.
While adjusting my sports bra, I felt a lump. Instinctively, I pulled my hand away, attempting to dismiss the ominous realization. I tried to convince myself that it was merely a figment of my imagination, just as I had done countless times before during the pandemic whenever I experienced the slightest symptom. I remembered discussing a friend’s dental visit, how challenging it was to seek medical care during these times, and I hoped this was just another episode of my anxious mind running wild.
After watching the rest of the show, I went to bed, but the anxiety lingered. I gingerly touched the lump again, desperate to prove to myself it was nothing, but the tears came anyway.
At 10:00 p.m., I reached out to my doctor via email: “I found what feels like a significant lump in my breast. My husband confirmed it. I am really scared, especially given the timing.” The reply arrived at midnight, offering a glimmer of hope: “I understand how frightening this must be. Can I see you tomorrow? Try to breathe; I’ll help you.”
The following day marked my first venture outside for anything other than grocery shopping. Clad in a fabric mask layered with a coffee filter, I was acutely aware of every surface I touched in the doctor’s office. I noticed the doctor’s extra precautions, the hand sanitizer she used liberally, and how she cautiously handed me a tissue. Despite her efforts to comfort me, the mask made it hard to cry.
Leaving the office, I scrubbed my hands with disinfectant wipes and yearned to shed my mask to let the sobs out. I wished desperately that my body could wait until the pandemic was over. The fear of seeking help was compounded by the reality of a world grappling with COVID-19.
Under normal circumstances, I would have had time to process the doctor’s words and the upcoming tests. However, with my children at home, I had to maintain a brave face, shielding them from additional stress. The breast center, a familiar place I had visited for years, felt eerily deserted. Upon arrival, I was greeted by a police officer directing me to masked nurses who took my temperature and asked if I had come into contact with anyone with the virus.
Navigating the halls brought a stark sense of loneliness. I was the only patient waiting for my mammogram and one of just two for the biopsy. The absence of familiar smiles behind masks heightened my isolation. When the doctor examined the lump, his words were disheartening: “It looks like it is something.” I expressed gratitude for his willingness to see me, aware that many doctors were unavailable during this crisis.
Once in the car, I doused myself in hand sanitizer again, tears streaming down my face. I have always considered myself resilient, having faced various life challenges, but this felt different. The weight of a cancer diagnosis combined with the specter of a global pandemic was overwhelming.
When I received the confirmation of breast cancer, it hurt more to share the news with my mother from a distance, separated by the confines of social distancing. What I craved was the comfort of friends and family, but instead, I found myself in a quiet home filled with news updates and reminders of isolation.
As the days turned into a waiting game for surgery, I made an effort to focus on the positives: the supportive texts from loved ones, my husband’s reassuring hand holding mine, and the joy on my children’s faces that sparked my own smiles.
In these challenging times, the pandemic has not only claimed lives but has also stolen the connections we hold dear. It has deprived us of the simple comfort of a shared smile, highlighting the importance of togetherness during trying moments.
For anyone navigating similar challenges, you can find more on coping with infertility and the journey of home insemination here. Additionally, resources on fertility can be found at this link and here.
Summary
A cancer diagnosis is a daunting experience, made even more challenging during a global pandemic. The isolation and fear of seeking medical help can amplify feelings of despair. However, amidst the darkness, moments of connection with loved ones can provide light. This narrative underscores the necessity of support and community during difficult times.