Mary Trouba

I woke up the other day and checked my email and social media to find no less than five messages and posts referencing the COVID-19 pandemic and talking about how dismal or unbearable things are currently.

Every so often, friends even have made references to writing off 2020 entirely. And yet, while this may sound strange, as someone who has been living with metastatic breast cancer since late 2015, I am having a good year. I have been thinking to myself: Is it OK to say that I am having a good year amid a pandemic?

I guess you could say that my expectations are simple, focused largely on the present moment and the time until my next scan. After my last scan, I felt euphoric that the results I received were not tough news. So, on a day when friends were writing and posting about their struggles with COVID-19, the lack of normalcy, and the impact of not being able to engage in as much physical contact as in the past, all very real concerns, I found myself exuberantly feeling that my life is fantastic.

I find it to be an interesting juxtaposition, what is going on in the public sphere versus what is going on in my personal life. The truth is that, for me, at this point, it basically boils down to: Am I alive? And how do I feel physically, for example, do I have chunks of time where I feel alert and energetic and relatively free of discomfort or pain?

I decided fairly early in the pandemic that I would shelter in place until a vaccine was developed or until the virus essentially was eliminated in my city. I don’t mind wearing a mask, engaging in physical distancing, and sheltering in place because I am highly motivated to live. So, I am willing to take precautions. I am committed to continuing to take good care of myself. I chat at a safe distance with kind-hearted neighbors who keep an eye on me, wonderful friends who occasionally bring me meals, and a big-hearted sister who sometimes runs errands on my behalf.

Wearing my mask, I talk with my medical team with whom I have forged a warm connection over the more than four years that I have been in treatment.

I do not feel disconnected and I am not pining for the end of the pandemic, which makes me a bit of a weirdo among people I know, even though the end of the pandemic would be wonderful. I have been changed as a result of my cancer diagnosis, for it taught me that things can change at any moment. Deep down at a visceral level, I understand in a way that I never did before that what truly matters is what we make of each day and that simply being alive and feeling relatively well is a wondrous miracle worth celebrating.

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I am not pining for the end of the pandemic, which makes me a bit of a weirdo among people I know, even though the end of the pandemic would be wonderful. I have been changed as a result of my cancer diagnosis, for it taught me that things can change at any moment.

While It May Sound Strange Amid COVID-19, I’m Having A Good Year

Since being diagnosed with metastatic inflammatory breast cancer in November 2015, I have been writing about my experiences with cancer and cancer treatment as a way to grapple with the ways this journey touches my life. For me, it is a way of “metabolizing” my experience, of feeling at home in my own skin.

#3: Statistics don’t tell you how your personal situation will unfold.

#4: You get to decide how much you want to disclose to others and how you want to deal with uncertainty.

#5: You change in subtle ways over time when you viscerally confront your mortality; you don’t suddenly become a completely different person.

#6: There are more people walking around with late stage cancer than you might realize, given ongoing advances in cancer research and treatment in recent years.

#7: The world of cancer treatment involves a mix of good news and bad news.

#8: A positive outlook includes feeling whatever it is you are feeling in the moment, and sometimes it makes sense to temporarily compartmentalize grief and anxiety and go back to them when it feels right.

#9: Doctors and nurses who work in oncology are very special people.

#10: You never know who will show up for you at a particular moment.

#12: Friends and family who make you laugh are precious.

#13: Eyelashes have as much to do with how you look as does the hair on your head.

#14: A harmonious home environment soothes the brain during chemo fog.

#15: You feel better when you are well-hydrated.

#16: Doing what is important to you, no matter how eccentric or unimportant it might seem to others, is worth prioritizing.

#17: Grace is a gift— it visits at unexpected times.

#18: Images of angelic beings and spirit guides are hardwired into us as human beings.

#19: Dreams become more comforting as the journey progresses.

#20: The opportunity to be here on planet Earth is a 

Mary Trouba, a patient with metastatic inflammatory breast cancer, talks about the 20 things she has learned on her own cancer journey.

Mary Trouba

While It May Sound Strange Amid COVID-19, I’m Having A Good Year

20 Things I Have Learned from My Cancer Journey

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