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The first time we visited Napa was in 2006. It was a 60th birthday present for Cassie’s mom and for us and Cassie’s parents it was the trip of a lifetime. It has also become our (and especially Cassie’s) happy place. We’ve been back almost every year since — sometimes more than once a year — and this spring represented our third extended stay in the valley. 

We love it here. The food. The wine. The pace. The history. The mountains. The people. The small towns. The breakfast burritos. The scenery. All of it. And we know how lucky and privileged we are to get to spend so much time here and we don’t, for a second, take that for granted. 

For us, like everybody else, the last ten weeks were not what we expected. We had big ambitions for our Napa time with lots of visitors and activities planned. After our first ten days that all changed, and we discovered that we could easily slip into one of two unhelpful mindsets. We could compare this time to our last time(s) here and bemoan how different it is. Alternatively, we could become obsessed with the fact that this might be our last time here given Cassie’s metastatic breast cancer diagnosis. Who knows how she will feel a year from now. What if we never come back? What if this is our last time? 

Last time. Last time? Twin traps. One rooted in past comparisons. The other in future fears. The challenge we found is to stay rooted in this time because it actually is the only thing we get to control. And that’s not just about this ten weeks in California — it’s relevant to every aspect of our lives now. Are we going to spend our remaining and possibly severely limited time together wistfully looking back or in constant fear of what is to come or can we try to stay connected to each other and to each day? Honestly this is super hard for us but we have found that usually one of us at a time can stay more rooted in the now and help the other get there. We do that for each other constantly and it’s helping make this time, right now, some of the richest most connected time of our twenty-eight year relationship.  

I don’t know the first time I heard the expression “Hope isn’t a strategy” but I have certainly quoted it a number of times over the years. Usually it is something I’ve said to a client or a campaign I was advising as a way to make the case that we needed a plan or a more focused set of goals, priorities and tactics. It would usually engender a laugh and was a good way to provoke discussion. 

Last week though, I found myself saying the exact opposite. I was talking to some fellow cancer-caregivers and we were all discussing how scared, anxious and overwhelmed we were by the current situation. Now not only do our spouses/partners have cancer but they are also at heightened risk of getting Covid-19 and while that is scary for everyone it is especially frightening for those who already have severely compromised immune systems.

So we talked about our fears and all the plans in our lives that have changed. The fear of even stepping into a store because it might result in infection and god-forbid an even earlier death of our loved one. The “bucket-list” trips that people are cancelling without knowing if they will ever get to take them. The sadness and loneliness of not being able to accompany our partners to the doctor. How do you process all of this? How do you not have it overwhelm you?

That’s when I found myself saying: “Maybe hope is a strategy.” It immediately rang true because for me and others in this situation it is actually the only thing we have. Cassie was feeling awful the other day (almost couldn’t get out of bed) and really the only thing I could do was hope that she would feel better the next day. I hope all of the time that new medicines will be discovered. I hope that we have more time together. I’m encouraging us to make future plans and hope we can follow-through on them. I hope that I won’t wake up crushingly sad, or if I do, that I can hopefully find something that day to put a smile on my face. 

And now, in the middle of this new scary pandemic, I am finding that for me hope is more important than ever. There is so much fear, so much I am angry about. So many injustices and so many unknowns. The only way I can handle it all is through the hope of better days ahead. Hope that we will learn from this and act accordingly. Hope that suffering will be less than predicted. 

So I guess hope can be a strategy and I’m embracing it as I face both cancer and Coronavirus.

Even before Coronavirus hit and many of us started “sheltering in place,” we had been struggling on and off with a sense of isolation. Since Cassie’s diagnosis, our life and routines have changed so much that we’ve had to consistently pay attention to our emotional health and sense of connectedness. 

We’ve learned (and are still learning) that keeping spirits up in a time of isolation and fear can be challenging. At the same time, we need to do our best not to spiral and succumb to feelings of loneliness, sadness and lack of purpose.

Here’s how we are trying to manage in the face of even greater isolation right now.

Focus on gratitude – even in the midst of this current pandemic crisis, we’ve got much to be thankful for. Safe shelter, plenty of food, access to good healthcare, ability to work less, just to name a few. So many others are facing huge obstacles. That leads us to thinking about…

Leaning into generosity – how can we help those who need help? We are donating to organizations on the front lines. We are buying restaurant gift certificates. We are responding to friend’s fundraising appeals for organizations they support. Supporting others is a good way to get out of our own heads and stay connected.

Connect with friends and family – one benefit of technology and being constantly connected is that although you can’t be with friends in person you can call, text, facetime, zoom, etc. It’s a blessing. We’ve both got a couple of virtual happy hours planned and all of our nieces and nephews should be watching their mailboxes for some help with the quarantine blues.

Exercise – Dan joined a health club here and it is still open but that doesn’t seem right. (No amount of bleach wipes can make that safe.) So, we’re opting to walk and walk and walk. It’s not even early afternoon and Dan has exceeded 10,000 steps. (Cassie will get hers later!) Doc loves these long walks.

Do projects – if we were home Cassie would be cleaning closets, scrubbing floors and emptying cupboards. But, since we’re in a rental house there is less of this to do. So, we are going to try to finish our death plans (both of us). Lots of letter writing is also in our immediate future. And, we’re posting a daily picture on Dan’s instagram page because not all projects have to be big ones!

Build in time together – Even though we are together almost constantly (here and at home), we’re still often doing our own things. Reading, Dan working, on calls with friends, etc. So, we wanted to build in some mandatory connecting time. We’ve decided to make it our mission to attempt the New York Times crossword puzzle each day. And, we’re committed to making our way through the 100 best movies of all time as named by the American Film Institute (https://www.afi.com/afis-100-years-100-movies-10th-anniversary-edition/). We just watched Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner last night. We’d highly recommend it.

Isolation is lonely. The unknown is scary. Our spirits can easily sag. All of that is natural but we are learning that creativity, invention and silliness can become natural too if we focus on them.  If there are things you are doing to keep your spirits up we’d love to hear! Please share in the comments.

Last night Dan snapped at Cassie out of the blue and she responded with her own snappy retort. Our “snappiness” didn’t last long and it didn’t take Einstein to figure out that it had nothing to do with Dan’s particular comment. Rather we were both anxious and stressed out (like everybody ) due to Coronavirus.

Yes we are trying to “fear less” but how do we do that when, for the first time ever, one of us is in the special category (immuno-compromised people) that is being discussed on the news every minute? How do we fear less when we feel isolated being away from our friends and family? How do we fear less when we think about Cassie possibly getting sick 2,100 miles away from her doctors?

Do we stay here? Do we go home? We were already anxious before and now it feels like anxiety on steroids. 

Yet, at the same time, we don’t want to just give up on this time away. In many ways, since Cassie’s diagnosis, we have felt that one of the only things keeping us going is having stuff to look forward to and we’ve been anticipating this trip for well over a year. So while using common sense, we don’t want our fear and anxiety to rule us, to control our decisions. We don’t want to act precipitously or make a decision that we might regret when we have more information or a little time has passed.

On the one hand maybe going home makes sense. On the other hand, Cassie’s doctor didn’t say that and in fact said it was just fine to stay as long as we took precautions. And, if are going to have to “socially isolate” wherever we are, why not do it where its 70 degrees and sunny. Why not enjoy the delicious wine we have stock-piled and the fresh food that’s still available? Why not walk Doc among the vines (no people there), play a lot of cribbage in the backyard and enjoy each other’s company and focused attention?

There’s no clear-cut answer but we’ve decided to take it day-by-day and not let anxiety make the decision for us. That’s helpful in this moment and we have a feeling will also be a lesson that applies over and over again on this metastatic breast cancer journey.

Cassie is the driver in our family. Everybody knows this. And it’s not just because she really likes to drive — which she does — it’s also because Dan is a lousy driver. Everybody knows that too. It’s not all his fault though as he comes by it naturally. Both of Dan’s parents made driving an adventure and neither of his brothers is an automotive rock star. So Cassie has always been the primary driver in the relationship.

This is significant because we decided to spend ten weeks in Northern California again this spring and we have historically driven out so that Doc the Basset Hound can join us and so we can have our car while we are there. This year, however, we decided it didn’t make sense for Cassie to do the drive given her varying energy levels. So Dan drove out with one of our close friends who graciously volunteered to make the trip. More accurately, our friend drove and Dan handled podcasts, snacks, and restaurant selections.  

It was a great road trip for them covering four nights and five days. The weather was perfect. The scenery beautiful. The podcasts funny. (Who knew true crime could be funny?) Yet it also represented the longest we have been apart since we learned that Cassie has metastatic breast cancer. Even though it was only four nights, we missed each other. We were both lonely and a little out of sorts. Dan was worried about Cassie. Cassie found it strange being in the house  without Dan or Doc. Dan didn’t sleep well because he kept rolling over, seeing an empty bed, and contemplating his future. 

It got us both thinking. How do we decide whether or not to spend time apart? We’ve both always been fiercely independent. Before the diagnosis we both traveled a lot for work, took  trips on our own and spent weekends away with friends. Sometimes we’d even make plans without consulting each other because it felt like we had all of the time in the world and both wanted the other to have fun. Now it all seems different. Every night away from each other feels like a lost night. Yet we still have things we want to do on our own and people we want to spend time with individually. So how do we decide? 

Sometimes it’s clear as it was with the California trip — the ends (ten weeks in California together and quality road-trip time with a close friend) clearly justified the means (five days apart). In other circumstances though, we’ve found we need to intentionally consider a set of questions before making plans. Will the time away from each other be restorative and energizing? How is Cassie feeling? How connected are we as a couple at that moment?  When were we last apart? How many nights are we talking about? 

There’s no clear formula but we’re realizing that time together is more precious than ever and sleeping next to each other can no longer be taken for granted.