The Stories We Tell Ourselves

This week, I was supposed to be attending WCICON20 in Las Vegas. I have been looking forward to going for months.

I wanted to attend the first meeting, in Park City, but couldn’t arrange the time off. Many people posted how much they enjoyed it, and I was looking forward to meeting people who want to talk about finances, education, and even wellness. More, I was looking forward to meeting people who aren’t all internists. Maybe I even had some fan-girl interest in meeting the people behind the blogs I read (or podcasts I listen to) each week.

Not to mention, I was looking forward to 1 week away from the office, away from the EMR, and possibly in some sun.

However, in the past weeks, we have had to deal with the arrival of the novel coronavirus in our country, and the prospect of quarantine (or self-quarantine).

We started last week with news about the cases centered around a nursing home in Kirkland, WA. Then we had the first case in California without a clear connection to prior (imported) cases.

There were e-mails from the White Coat Investor stating that the meeting was still on; and a series of posts by the FI Physician (an ID physician as well as a financial planner), that I found particularly helpful.

My husband was clearly getting more nervous about this whole business, but stated he was still game to go. (He loves going to Las Vegas.) We figured that, given my job, at some point we would be exposed to the virus; we might as well enjoy our last chance to travel for a while.

Then, on Friday, South By Southwest was canceled. That was a huge deal.

Now Italy is trying to quarantine about one-quarter of the population.

And did I mention my mother-in-law is in the hospital? (To be fair, my mother-in-law is frequently in the hospital; is tough as nails; and will probably outlive us all.)

This weekend I agreed with my husband that we should stay home and miss the meeting. However, I can’t say I made the decision gracefully. In fact, it took a little mental jiu jitsu before I could enjoy the rest of the weekend.

I have been thinking about the stories we tell ourselves, in reference to another post I plan to write. Canceling our trip and deciding what to do instead really highlighted the importance of story-telling, at least to me, in how we process decisions.

The story we tell ourselves becomes a part of how we interpret our history.

Telling Stories

For example, if my diabetic patient tells me she was a bad patient because she had cake for her birthday last week, she is setting herself up for a lot of trouble. I am a bad patient does not put her in a good mindset going forward. I expect her glucose control will worsen before it gets better, if it ever does.

If instead she tells me that she had a slice of birthday cake, but declined the ice cream, and went for a short walk after the party to help manage her glucose, because she is trying hard to get her hemoglobin A1c down, I know we are in business. She is going to get to goal as long as I make sure she has the correct medical support.

It is important to differentiate this form of self-talk from another type of story-telling, i.e. lying.

If my same patient instead tells me: I gave up birthday cake, I don’t know why my glucose isn’t under control, this story is just not true. She is deluding herself, rather than framing her experience in a positive or negative way.

Why We Canceled Our Trip

The morning after the decision, I was talking it over with an older and wiser friend, going through the thought-process.

There were, of course, many reasons why we decided to cancel our trip: a little fear of the disease itself; worries about spreading the disease; concern over being stuck in Las Vegas because of flight cancellations; anxiety about being stuck in a hotel room because of a quarantine being ordered; the possibility of my mother-in-law actually taking a turn for the worse while we are in quarantine out of town.

One story could have been: we canceled our trip because we think Las Vegas is a swirling pot of germs from all over the world, and we are scared we will get the novel coronavirus. That is a story of cowardice, and who wants to see themselves as a coward? Also, the odds are that I will catch it from work here, so it is silly to avoid a trip when it likely won’t affect that particular outcome. Now I am seeing myself as a silly coward, even less attractive.

My story could have been: my husband is scared of the novel coronavirus, and I canceled my trip to please him. That makes my husband a manipulative jerk, and me a pushover. That’s not a story I want to live in, either.

His story could have been that he is worried about me: I have asthma, so maybe getting this respiratory virus is more dangerous, and he wants m to stay safe at home. This lets him be a loving and caring spouse.

The kicker, and really the true reason I decided to cancel, is the threat of quarantine. I don’t like Las Vegas that much, and being quarantined there would likely be a drag. But more than that, envisioning my mother-in-law dying while we were stuck in Las Vegas, when my husband asked me not to go–well, that’s a story I can’t live with.

The Story of My Impromptu Staycation

The other story I have to think about is the one that describes what I do with my time.

I could just go back to work. That is not happening, because I have been looking forward to some time off for a while. “I didn’t go to the conference so I just added more hours and got cranky” is not a story I want to tell.

I have many things on my to-do list. I list them periodically. So, with 3 days off-work, I suppose I could work my way through the list. However, the story of “I canceled my trip, and used the time to do laundry and clear the linen closet” is also not one I want to tell myself in the coming months.

However, after a little bit of moping, I made a list of things I could do at home that might start to make up for missing the conference.

Sacrificing the trip I was looking forward to is tough, but using the free time to see local sights I haven’t seen in my umpteen years here; and tidy my home a bit (in case I’m stuck in it for 14 days this spring); and make sure my in-laws aren’t left alone in the clutches of the health care system–well, that’s a story I can stick with. Self-sacrificing, inventive in making alternative plans, and productive. That’s a me I’d like to see more of.

A Story As a Promise

The other story I am telling myself is that once the threat of quarantine is over, I am going on a trip. Far from home.

My husband is in full agreement.

It is something we can look forward to, during the undoubtedly trying times that will be coming soon.