Simple pleasures: what I learnt fighting the other ‘big C’

Sarah Tidey is having her fourth round of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer in the age of coronavirus. This is her guide to staying hopeful.

‘These trying times will illuminate all we value and love’: Sarah Tidey with husband Mick Elsworth, daughter Charlotte and son Jack at home in Melbourne. Picture: Aaron Francis

I have cancer and am undergoing chemotherapy in the age of coronavirus. I’ve grown used to being isolated and feeling vulnerable.

I’m sharing this as I hope that what I’ve learnt will help others now grappling with uncertainty. When I was diagnosed with ­ovarian cancer in 2015, the diagnosis came with ugly statistics: about 70 per cent of women diagnosed, me included, have ovarian cancer in the advanced stages, and only 25 per cent of these women will survive beyond five years.

It has taken a huge physical and mental toll but I’m still here, and with a better perspective about what and who is important in my life, and a healthy respect for my own mortality. This is proving useful in coping with the coronavirus.

Before my diagnosis I was living­ a full life — I had fabulous friends, a challenging job, a loving family, terrific holidays. I thought that a lot of it had happened ­because of the good choices I had made. Death seemed like something a long way off, something that I could stave off by doing regular pilates classes and eating well. But I’m not special. None of us are immune to the bad stuff in life.

The coronavirus has been a great leveller. Yes, we cancer folk are at high risk. But everyone is struggling with it in their own way. My elderly neighbours who live alone, my friend with motor neurone­ disease who has been in isolation for weeks, my local cafe owner who is battling to keep his business alive.

Old, young, rich, poor — cancer­ doesn’t discriminate, and nor does the coronavirus.

My cancer diagnosis has meant that I’ve missed milestone birthdays, cancelled holidays, wound back work, and yet I’ve survived, even thrived. It’s been helpful to learn that the joy I get out of life is not determined by how busy I am.

It’s also amazing what you can see and hear with the pace and ­volume of life turned down. The coronavirus has given many of us the opportunity to communicate more with friends, chatting on the phone and online. I’ve reconnected with friends overseas.

I am relishing the opportunity to spend more time with my ­family. My children normally live frantic lives between university, school, sport, part-time jobs and wide friendship circles. Now I have an opportunity to help them learn the value of a slower life.

My 80-year-old father (former newspaper executive John Tidey) sagely suggested to them that this was an incredible opportunity to spend time thinking and reading, headspace they may never find again.

During a sobering conversa­tion with my oncologist last week she told me about dwindling resources and the difficult conversations she was having with other patients who were too vulnerable to continue chemotherapy.

I’m lucky I have just one round of chemo to go. I am safe at home, surrounded by people I love in a house with plenty of space. My husband is still employed, our community is kind and supportive.

This virus troubles us because it is so uncertain. We will emerge and the world will have changed forever. Yet these trying times will illuminate all we value and love.