Cancer in the Time of Coronavirus
By Kendahl Servino
Cancer itself is a bad hand, and something I generally wouldn’t recommend. But having cancer at the same time as a global pandemic? All I know is that 2020 has been one surprise after another.
Last winter, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Never in my life would I have thought this would happen to me, much less as a college student finishing up my last semester. I had been by myself when I found out. I was 20 years old.
Now throw in a globally pervasive virus into the mix.
Coronavirus has indubitably affected us all, and I hope that we’ll all be able to stay healthy and safe throughout this unprecedented (for many) historical event. While someone my age would normally be at low risk of contracting the virus, this pandemic has brought unique effects in my life as a cancer patient.
Being immunocompromised, I’ve had to be especially mindful about human interaction and going to public places. To my surprise, the social distancing of coronavirus has actually made chemotherapy recovery easier. It doesn’t feel as isolating being home when everyone else is practicing the same behavior as well.
The biggest effect from Coronavirus, however, was a reminder about something I’d been aware of – but neglecting – for a while now.
After my university closed, I moved out of my apartment and back home with my family. While living at home again has allowed me to feel the most me, I didn’t realize how drastically different Cancer Me and Public Me were until classes moved online and I moved back home. When classes were still in person and I used to live at my apartment, Public Me would assume its position. I’d go about my day attending class, eating out on Thursday nights with friends per our weekly tradition, going to work, etc. While I considered taking a semester off from school, I also took my oncologist’s words to “live your life” to heart. I decided to finish my last semester and continue on with my goals. I like living this version of myself. It’s the closest I have to a sense of normalcy. I crave the consistency at times. But Public Me doesn’t have cancer. At least, not to the knowledge of anyone beyond my small circle of friends. I even sometimes find myself forgetting this teeny, tiny detail about my life.
Given the recent proliferation of the Coronavirus, the “public” doesn’t exactly exist anymore. The wig came off, and I was left to face – quite literally – Cancer Me. Being at home, there’s no need for the wig. At school, I’d stand in front of the bathroom sink checking my wig to make sure the hairline seemed as contiguous as possible. It wasn’t until the late evening when I returned to my apartment and removed my wig that I would face the person underneath. But now, I seldom wear it. I catch glimpses of my head much more often than I used to. It’s helped me really see myself again, in more than one way. While I still miss my hair, I don’t spend as much time thinking about it or looking at old photos. I know that who I see in the mirror is who I am now.
I’ve always been aware of the contrast between my public life and my personal life due to cancer, but Coronavirus tremendously amplified it. I’ve recognized the exact magnitude of the dichotomy between the Outside and the Inside. The effects of this global pandemic have forced me to face the different ways I see myself. Staying at home has made me think of how I want Cancer Me and Public Me to finally converge into one, single authentic me, once the public exists again.
I’m pretty comfortable with the notion that everyone has different versions of themselves, based on who they’re with, where they are, etc. I think it’s natural to act differently depending on the context one may be in. It’s led me to wonder though how we know who our “true” selves are. I contend that we’re bits and pieces of these different versions of ourselves. It’s why Public Me isn’t the complete picture. To feel the most authentic version of myself, I know I have to configure all the jagged pieces that don’t fit together.
Sharing this space will help bridge this gap. There’s definitely discomfort in the vulnerability, but when I think about how I am not the only one going through something similar, and I certainly won’t be the last, I remember that I have something to give.
If there’s any silver lining from Coronavirus (and I would argue there are actually several), it’s been the amount of time I’ve had for thinking here at home. I’ve found it’s something I could always use more of.
With love from home,
Kendahl
Photos/Kendahl Servino.
Kendahl Servino is a Las Vegas local originally from New England. She will be attending the University of Nevada, Reno School of Medicine starting this fall. She aims to use her experiences as a cancer patient to be an advocate for her future patients and the best healthcare provider she can be.
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