For weeks, my experience in quarantine echoed that of countless others in the suburbs near New York City. I was confined at home with my husband and two teenage children, engaged in endless rounds of hand washing and sanitizing. Our evenings were spent on Zoom calls, tackling puzzles, playing board games, and indulging in Netflix binges. Then, one fateful night, while flicking through channels and catching up on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives, my life took an unexpected turn.
As I adjusted my sports bra, my fingers brushed against an unfamiliar lump. Instantly, I recognized what it was, but I tried to dismiss it. “Maybe I’m overreacting,” I thought, convincing myself it was similar to the times I’d convinced myself I had COVID-19 over the slightest throat tickle. Just the day prior, I had discussed the challenges of seeking medical care during the pandemic, especially for non-emergency needs. I attempted to brush it off, watching the rest of the episode, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and wishing my kids goodnight. But as I undressed, my anxiety got the better of me, and I ran my fingers over the lump again, only to break down in tears.
At 10:00 p.m., I mustered the courage to email my doctor: “I found what feels like a significant lump in my breast. My husband confirmed it too. I am really scared (especially because I know this is the worst timing for this to happen).” Her response came just after midnight, reassuring me: “I’m sorry to hear that you’re scared. Can you come to the office tomorrow? I’ll be there at 10:30. Try to breathe; I will help you.”
The next morning marked my first venture outside in weeks, armed with a fabric mask layered with a coffee filter. I was hyper-aware of every surface I touched in the doctor’s office. I noticed I was the only patient there, and it felt surreal watching the doctor meticulously wash her hands, applying sanitizer after every interaction. When she examined me and called for a breast specialist, I felt a lump in my throat, realizing she didn’t dismiss my concerns. Instead, she scheduled a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy for the following day.
In a normal situation, I would have returned home to process this news alone, but these were not normal times. I needed to mask my fear and anxiety for my children’s sake, who were already weathering their own storms. Typically, my biggest concern would be the tests themselves, but now the thought of entering a hospital was daunting.
The breast center, a place I had visited for years, felt different. As I arrived, police officers directed me to nurses in full PPE. After a brief health screening, I was finally allowed in. The hallways were eerily quiet, with lights off and seating arranged for social distancing. I felt overwhelmingly isolated, not just because my husband couldn’t accompany me, but due to the stark absence of comforting faces; everyone was hidden behind masks.
When the doctor examined the lump, he confirmed my fears: “It looks like it is something.” I expressed my gratitude for his willingness to see me when so many others weren’t. Afterward, I stepped outside, doused my hands in sanitizer, and let the tears flow.
Even as someone who prides themselves on resilience, this experience was overwhelming. The weight of a cancer diagnosis was compounded by the fear of a global pandemic. And when the doctor called with the grim news that I indeed had breast cancer, telling my mother from six feet away on her porch felt unbearable.
What I craved was connection, but instead, I found myself in solitude, consuming endless news updates about COVID-19. The absence of social interaction made the diagnosis feel even heavier. As the days stretched on, I sought solace in small blessings—texts from family, my husband’s unwavering support, and the smiles of my children that reminded me to find moments of joy amidst the uncertainty.
This pandemic has stripped away more than just lives; it has taken our connections, our ability to share smiles, and our chances to distract ourselves from looming worries. As I await surgery, I remind myself of the strength found in community and the importance of reaching out for support. For more insights on navigating similar experiences, check out the excellent resource on IVF at the NHS or learn more about home insemination at our blog.
In Summary
Navigating a cancer diagnosis during a pandemic presents unique challenges, from isolation to fear of seeking medical help. The emotional toll is compounded by the absence of comforting connections, highlighting the vital need for community support.