Fighting Cancer In the Time Of Covid 19 (When Will This Madness End?)
The world feels like a crazy place right now. A new virus is ripping through the global population and, for the time being, seems unstoppable. A vaccine is roughly one year to 18 months away. All we can do to protect ourselves is hide, wash our hands, and hope for the best. We have to believe that should we catch it, we can beat it — after all the death rate sits somewhere between 1% and 4% (since total population testing is not happening we don’t have enough data to say for sure). Not too bad right? Your odds of survival are actually quite good.
But what if you’re in the 1%?
Welcome to my life. Back in October 2019 I was diagnosed with cancer. My first doctor, based on exam and medical history, said the odds of me having cancer were akin to “winning the lottery”. My second doctor (because the first would have killed me) said I most likely did not have cancer, but he “really didn’t know what he was looking at” (I appreciated his honesty). By the time my cancer diagnosis came in 7 days after his biopsy, he called it “unfortunate” and “unexpected”. There are fewer than 200 cases per year. There are 163 million women in the US. How’s that for odds?
My odds of survival are also terrible — based on outdated data they sit between 7% and 10% (30% according to a small study in Japan). Since October I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching, I’ve had to face death and say “not today” on numerous occasions. Thirty-four, in my book, is too young to die.
But there was a light at the end of my tunnel. If I could make it through six rounds of chemotherapy (~five months), concurrent radiation (25 rounds), plus Brachytherapy (they just added it), I could be cured. Treatment — and surviving it — became my life. I lived and breathed it. I attacked chemotherapy like the nerdy Yalie I was. I read Oncology textbooks, I scoured PubMed for articles, I contacted multiple oncologists around the country and probably annoyed the hell out of my oncology team at UCLA by sending them articles on Neuroendocrine immunotherapy drugs — as if they didn’t, you know, go to medical school and have 1000x the knowledge I did.
We were so close. After many months of treatment, we moved back to LA March 1st to start daily radiation. Then the quarantines began. The CoronaVirus cases started soaring in California. Ten turned to 1000. I was already in self-quarantine because as someone undergoing chemotherapy I was (and still am) immunocompromised and even a common cold or flu could do serious damage. But, before CoronaVirus, I still felt safe. I felt in control. I could undergo treatment, wash my hands vigorously, and let my husband go to the store to buy groceries without a hazmat suit. Even going to the hospital every day didn’t make me fear for my life. Hospitals are relatively safe right?
All of that has now changed. I’m terrified to go anywhere. I’m terrified to send my husband to the store. I’m terrified to get an oil change on our car which we seriously need! One mistake could mean death. And if there are not enough ventilators I’ve seen the medical ethical guidelines, kicking cancer patients off to save others often tops the list. We’re more likely to die anyway right? We won the wrong lottery.
Stress is not good for cancer. Or the immune system. So I try not to break down crying every day but it’s hard. My levels (hemoglobin, neutrophils, etc) are at an all-time low (the phrase “blood transfusion” has been mentioned). And to be honest, the situation I find myself in has me questioning a lot of things about life. Why did I have to get the rare cancer? Why do I have to fight a serious illness and a global pandemic at the same time? When can I get a break? The other day I broke down in tears and shouted to my husband “I’m a good person, why is this happening to meeeeee?” Those who know me personally know I have not had the easiest life to begin with — the pile on of cancer and global pandemic makes me think the Universe might *actually* be trying to kill me.
But then, I remember, I have to take a step back. The global pandemic is not about me. Thousands of people have already died, why them? Did they deserve it any more than I do? No, of course not. For the 199 other women fighting my same cancer, why them? For the millions fighting some other horrible disease, or struggling to keep a roof over their heads, or living in fear as they still have to go to work — why them? I think the cold, hard truth we all have to face is that this earth does not revolve around us. And much of what happens to us is random. In some ways, humans are the cancer and CoronaVirus is acting like the chemotherapy — it cannot discriminate against good cells or bad cells — it just kills indiscriminately, knowing the end game is a cure. The air is cleaner, the ozone layer is healing and dolphins returned to Venice canals in Italy. Long after humans are gone, the planet, in whatever state we’ve left it in will persist.
So what does it all mean? All I’ve learned in my cage fight with mortality — and I’m still learning — is that each and every one of us should be thankful for the time we have, the privileges we surround ourselves with (the ability to work from home, to pay someone to do your shopping, or simply to eat and survive), and the ability to show love and compassion for other humans. All humans. It’s time to rise up, show gratitude and help others — even if helping just means STAYING THE F*** HOME! Don’t hoard supplies, don’t stock up on N95 masks that doctors desperately need, don’t price gouge during a pandemic, don’t go out and party or hit the beach with friends, don’t spit on food or deliveries (jeez people), don’t call it a hoax (looking at you Fox News), don’t actively try to kill people or increase the price of ventilators, don’t “not care” because you’re young.
I was young too — and cancer didn’t care. CoronaVirus doesn’t care. In the words of High School Musical “We’re all in this together”, literally. We’re all “social distancing”, we’re all trying to “flatten the curve” because we’re all at risk. And for those of us who are even more at risk do your part to help us. I can’t make you stay home, I can’t make you not vote for Trump (unless you want to do me like a huge favor), but I will die if you give me this virus. Grandparents will die. Friends will die. Siblings will die. So help your fellow humans — because we’re Stronger Together.
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For those who don’t know, I was diagnosed with Stage 3C Small Cell Neuroendocrine cancer in October 2019 at age 34. There are less than 200 cases per year. There is no research, funding or clinical trials for this cancer. If you would like to learn more please visit https://necervix.com/facts/.
I also have a GoFundMe here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-taryn-beat-cancer. (No pressure, anything and everything is appreciated.)
