As we enter a phase of stricter guidelines, I found a sense of relief when I realized that we’ve been here before and we know what to do.
In the beginning of the pandemic, everything we knew felt uncertain and scary. It felt like our lives were turned upside down overnight and we had to adapt to something we could never have imagined.
Right now, we still have uncertainty in this scary situation, but we do have some lived experience that can help us push through.
This reminded me of a lesson I learned from a colleague. About five years ago, I was diagnosed as having a large tumour in my abdomen. It took about three months and several biopsies to determine it was benign.
Removing the tumour required major surgery that included reconstruction of my abdominal wall, and I have lasting issues that remind me of this every day. It was also during this time that I lost my sister to breast cancer.
As life continued and I would go to the hospital for cancer screenings, every time I walked down the imaging hallway my eyes would well up with tears. It would remind me of CT scans, tests and my sister’s cancer. I had received bad news the first time I walked down that hallway and it was hard to shake.
Around the time of one of these followup appointments, I was chatting with a colleague about my fear of the imaging hallway. He had shared with me previously that he attended regular checkups at the hospital because he had recently had cancer.
He gave me the best advice I’d ever received on the matter. He said: “I go to the hospital so they can see if the cancer came back. If it does, I will go through treatment again so I can be healthy. I am not scared to go. I know this is just what I do now.”
The next time I had to walk down that imaging hallway, I was scared, but with every step, I would say to myself: “This is what I do now.” It really helped. I knew what line on the wall I needed to follow, I knew where to check in, and then I grabbed a gown with confidence.
Two years ago, I worried my tumour had returned, and I had ultrasounds where several different people came in to read the monitor. At the time, I was certain it was bad news again. When I got home, I messaged my old colleague, who I hadn’t seen for a long time, to thank him for his wise words. Thankfully, the tumour hadn’t returned.
I have been doing this for years now and it’s something I will continue doing as long as I walk that hallway.
Even though it makes me feel better, it doesn’t take away the scary parts or the uncertainty. It is a way to cope with the situation and make it more manageable.
As our second wave gets bigger and more restrictions come into place, I tell myself: “This is what we do now.”
We have nine months of experience behind us, and we can use that and plan for how we can stay safe and keep others safe, too.
