Man Up to Cancer reached out to some members of our community yesterday with a 24-hour writing challenge. We asked them to answer the question, in about 500 words: “How is Coronavirus impacting your lives?”

It’s a simple question. But the answers are complex, human, and heartbreaking. Here in Cancerland, we know we are more vulnerable to Coronavirus than our ‘healthy’ peers. Many of us are immunocompromised. Many rely on our hospitals and clinics for life-extending treatments. Many are awaiting surgeries or other critical procedures that could literally mean the difference between life and death. To say the least, the stakes are high.

But consider the flip side: I can’t imagine a demographic more prepared for this pandemic. We already know how to take extreme measures to protect our health and the health of those around us. More than that, we are resilient. We are fighters. We’ve already survived some pretty crazy sh%t, and here we stand. Together.

I hope these dispatches from the community make you remember that you are never alone. Thank you Jason, Joy, Rob, and Jenay.

Do you want to take the writing challenge? Contact me to send me your 500 words.

In solidarity,

Trevor

‘We are all in this Together’

By JASON RANDALL

Occupation: GIS Analyst

Hometown: Eudora, KS, USA

Cancer impact: Stage IV colorectal cancer patient

Being a cancer patient during the most recent events with the COVID-19 virus has been stressful to say the least.

I had a liver and colon resection surgery on Feb 25th, 2020 while events were unfolding worldwide and starting to unfold at home. I am blessed to have completed my surgery, but have had to be extremely vigilant as well.

After 30 cycles of chemotherapy and two y90 radioembolizations, I am considered to be an immunocompromised individual. I was the guy at the airport wearing a N95 mask and gloves while wiping everything down with disinfecting wipes. The stares I got were many and varied. Some seemed to be giving off a sympathetic stare while others felt more like, “this dude is overkill!” This doesn’t bother me, just more observation. I am following my surgeons advice. When it comes to precautions, I am following every single one.

My family and I are self-quarantined for 14 days to ride the first part of this out, hoping it won’t be much longer. I wash my hands about 15 times per day and wipe everything down.

Fortunately, we live in the country and the closest neighbor is over 500 meters away and we have a couple acres to roam and get fresh air.

The worst part of this all is seeing my fellow cancer patients and survivors suffer through this with elevated anxiety and stress. Cancelled appointments, surgeries, and chemo sessions. These things can literally kill us cancer folks quicker, even if we do not get COVID-19. This why following social, or physical, distancing right now is so important, not for those who will be fine, but for those same people unknowingly becoming vectors to spread the disease further and into the more vulnerable populations.

This is what stresses us cancer patients out — the need to be extra vigilant when our normal lives already require us to take these precautions everyday with no threat of a pandemic.

To my fellow cancer patients, please know we are all in this together and we all feel each others pain and elevated stresses during this time. Take this seriously as if our lives depend on it, because for many of us, it is a stark reality right now and one that is absolutely terrifying to say the least.

Just know that if anyone can make it through this pandemic it is us, the fierce warriors that are already resilient and the strongest willed people on earth.

Best to all!

‘Focus on what you can control’

By JOY MOEL

Occupation: Clinical psychologist

Hometown: Iowa City, IA, USA

Cancer impact: Mother of a stage IV cancer patient

I’m the primary caregiver for my 23-year-old son, Isaac, who was diagnosed on April 23, 2019, with Stage IV colorectal cancer that had metastasized to his liver and peritoneum.

After having an emergency ileostomy placed because his primary tumor was blocking his colon, he immediately started six rounds of aggressive chemotherapy to try to get him to a place where he would be operable.

Thankfully he responded well to treatment and was able to have a two-staged liver and colon resection surgery along with cytoreduction this past fall. He then completed another six rounds of adjuvant chemotherapy which wrapped up in January of this year.

Like so many other cancer patients, we’ve already been hyperaware of illness and keeping Isaac healthy over this past year so nothing would interfere with the crucial treatments he’s so badly needed to stay alive.

It’s been interesting to actually feel better understood in some ways by so many others who now, with the development of the coronavirus, have sadly been forced to join us in these kind of day-to-day worries about health.

Somehow, Isaac made it to the point where he was declared NED (No Evidence of Disease) in January, and then we had one last big decision to make. Since those pesky peritoneal mets popped up for him between surgeries/during his last break from chemo and they are hard to pick up in blood work and on scans, Isaac decided to be aggressive and proceed with a final HIPEC surgery (heated chemotherapy bath of his abdomen). We believe this gives him the best shot at beating this thing for good.

That surgery was scheduled to happen on March 18, and when the news that coronavirus had been confirmed in our county a couple of weeks ago, we struggled with the decision to proceed.

After consulting with his physicians and many other people with cancer who had been in a similar position, we decided to go forward because we were reminded that cancer really still was the bigger threat, and it was only looking like things would worsen with the added risk of the virus the longer we waited.

Unfortunately, we learned the day before his planned surgery that his liver had other plans for us. Isaac was diagnosed with obstructive jaundice. Instead of HIPEC, we still ended up exposed to the virus at the hospital for bloodwork and scans on March 16 and to have a drain placed on March 18 for a biloma that was caused by his previous surgeries. His HIPEC surgery has now been postponed until April 17.

Thankfully, the scan they did this week was reassuring for no cancer or metastases – fingers crossed that is accurate and it stays that way so Isaac doesn’t miss his opportunity to have HIPEC in the future.

I thought Stage IV cancer and HIPEC surgery would be about the scariest things a person could imagine, but now we’ve got a layer of COVID-19 on top of that. Knowing Isaac’s surgery was coming up, we started staying home last week and at that time I thought we might be overreacting. We know now that was not the case. It’s just surreal.

We continue to do our best to roll with the punches, but wow, this has been a year. At this point, I’m most worried about his surgeon staying healthy given he is the only doctor in our state who performs this specialized surgery.

And then there’s the question of the state our hospital system will be in several more weeks from now. I’m a psychologist and work at the hospital where my son gets his treatment, so I’ve got the fun inside scoop on just how dire the situation is there already.

I did learn today that due to COVID-19 we’ll be able to start providing therapy for our patients by phone from home, so at least I won’t have to be choosing between going into the hospital and exposing Isaac to the virus or burning through all my FMLA time while we wait this thing out quarantined at home.

It is challenging at times to try to help my patients with their anxiety about the virus when I’m dealing with so much of my own, but ultimately I think it helps me to know I’m helping others and to be reminded of the coping strategies I should also be using as I talk through them with my patients: stay in the present, focus on what you can control, attend to the basics (sleeping, eating, and moving), make space for all of your feelings, and ask for help when you need it.

‘A Whole World of New Challenges’

By ROB BURRIDGE

Occupation: Heavy duty mechanic

Hometown: Nanaimo, B.C., Canada

Cancer impact: Stage IV colorectal cancer patient

As the sun rises on the first day of the vernal equinox I am woken up by the news on my TV.

The Coronavirus seems to be on every single channel. With words like "self quarantine," "recession,” and "panic," it seems like the apocalypse is upon us.

But being a stage 4 cancer survivor, the outbreak of the virus just opened up a whole world of new challenges. I have lived my last four years under my own self quarantine and social distancing while undergoing chemotherapy in fear of the common flu, but this virus seems to be rocking the world in a way not seen before.

Entire countries are shutting down services and borders in hopes to contain the virus but in all the chaos and confusion another threat is starting to present itself, putting an entire group of people at risk. With all the caution and hysteria, people's cancer treatments are now at risk of disruption and delay.

I just learned my own treatment has been delayed for a week because my brother was displaying flu-like symptoms, and because we had dinner together recently, there is a possibility I might be infected. He is getting tested, but with so much uncertainty I cannot risk going to have treatment that lowers my white blood cell count, PLUS going through an entire ward with immunocompromised people.

To put more people, other than just myself, at risk of a different kind of potentially fatal disease would be very careless of me. I’m already “in my head” about having to postpone a treatment because the chemo is working and keeping my cancer at bay. The mortality rate of metastatic cancer is far higher than the risk of dying from the Coronavirus. Also, to throw another wrench in my plans, my liver surgery is postponed until further notice. The surgery that could possibly cure me is now on hold because of the hospitals shutting down in preparation for an onslaught of new virus patients taking up beds.

So as I sit here drinking my morning coffee and watching my news, I have realized my life has been dramatically affected by a virus. As I watch people panic and think their worlds are crashing down on them with their employer laying them off, I cannot but help see the similarities and parallels with my own life. This virus has made people feel some of the fears of a cancer patient. I have also seen the secondary consequences of this outbreak.

But like everything else life has thrown at me, I will survive. I will roll with the punches and enjoy an extra week off from chemo and most importantly I will be thankful for another day.

When your hospital becomes the “most dangerous” place

By JENAY ENGELBERT

Occupation: Teacher

Hometown: Pittsburgh, PA, USA

Cancer impact: Wife to a stage IV cancer patient

How is Coronavirus affecting our lives? Well, how is it not affecting our lives? Just like my husband's cancer, this thing doesn't seem to be going away, and certainly not any time soon.

My husband had a post-scan appointment with his oncologist last Thursday. While we got great news about his scan (all cancer is either stable or shrinking), I came with my mental list of 20 questions about Coronavirus, but in my mind I didn't think I would have to ask them.

I thought the oncologist, whom I really like as a person and respect as a professional, would provide us with loads of information and advice on how to go about navigating Coronavirus, while also having Stage IV cancer as an underlying condition.

Keep in mind this was on March 12th. The oncologist did not display much concern at all. He basically said to live by the same basic principles you always should (stay away from sick people, lots of handwashing, etc.). Outside of that he was not given any specific guidelines from the higher up, on which to advise patients.

On a personal level, he did say "the most dangerous thing" my husband would have to do is go into the hospital to receive his chemo every other week.

It really sucks to be put in a position where "you're damned if you do, and you're damned if you don't." My husband depends on his chemo treatments for survival, but marching into the hospital to receive treatment when our country is in the middle of a pandemic is certainly scary. We can only depend and put blind faith in the hope that everyone from the patients to ALL the hospital workers are taking extreme precaution.

As for life on the home front, to be honest, tensions are starting to build a bit. As a teacher, I have been home this past week trying to navigate both the guidelines for attempting to work while the schools are closed, finding our "new normal" while our own children are at home, and also having to be vigilant with regards to making sure all four of our kids are adhering to safe behavior as well.

We haven’t gone anywhere the past seven days, aside from our yard, and we even had to tell our children they were not to play with other kids in the neighborhood. That's been a little hard, but we remind them that at least they have each other to play with. To add an extra level of stress to our situation, since we are blended, we do not have our children 100% of the time and will both be exchanging our kids with their other parents later today.

So while we have been as strict as possible at our house, unless the other parents are and have been equally responsible, I assume our efforts will be null and void.

Coronavirus, Stage IV cancer, teaching remotely through a pandemic, exes and custody...if you weren't jealous before, I bet you are now!

4 Views from Cancerland: Life on our Corona islands

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Trevor's blog: "Men, cancer, and the 'S' word"