A small piece of needlepoint embroidery tucked away in Nicole Arrington’s Pittsburg apartment dispenses a gentle piece of advice: “Radiate Kindness.”
It’s obvious that both Nicole, 52, and her 26-year-old daughter, Reyna, who lives with her, have taken this precept to heart. Both women give off an aura of immersive warmth. They laugh and smile constantly, and project an air of contented ease that is impossible to resist.
I’m in a lot of pain every day,” she said. “And I have other effects from the chemo and the cancer surgery. I wheeze a lot when I breathe. I have a lot of sleepless nights, and then sometimes I fall asleep in the middle of the day
In a casual conversation with the Arringtons, you might not realize that anything was amiss in their lives. But beneath that benign surface lies a catalog of medical and economic woes that can sometimes challenge even their serenity.
Nicole is recovering from metastatic breast cancer, with rounds of chemo and radiation that have left her severely disabled. She also suffers from fibromyalgia, lupus and lymphedema, an excruciating swelling in her upper arms.
“I’m in a lot of pain every day,” she said. “And I have other effects from the chemo and the cancer surgery. I wheeze a lot when I breathe. I have a lot of sleepless nights, and then sometimes I fall asleep in the middle of the day.”
Cancer has claimed more than half a dozen members of Nicole’s large extended family, including her father, who died in February at age 79. She is unable to work, and although Reyna helps support both of them, she was unemployed for a long stretch during the pandemic shutdown.
“My sister had been living there for 14 years, and we’d been there for eight,” Nicole said, before Reyna firmly took over to tell the story.
Then a couple of weeks later, we see the house on Zillow. The next day, a Realtor comes by and says they’re going to be showing the house. And then it turned out the house had already been sold!
“One day the landlord called us — actually, he called my aunt; he never said anything to us — and said, ‘Hey, I’m going to sell the place, so you need to get your ducks in a row.’
“Then a couple of weeks later, we see the house on Zillow. The next day, a Realtor comes by and says they’re going to be showing the house. And then it turned out the house had already been sold!”
The Arringtons had two months to relocate. “Basically, a month to figure it out, and a month to pack all our stuff and get out,” Reyna said.
Fortunately, they had put their name on a waiting list a couple years earlier for the housing complex they now live in, and when they needed to move, there happened to be an opening.
Money was still tight, though. Through Independent Living Resources of Solano and Contra Costa counties, which provides housing services for the disabled, the Arringtons were put in touch with The Chronicle’s Season of Sharing Fund, which provided enough money to cover two months’ rent in their new home. The fund works across the nine-county Bay Area region to prevent homelessness and hunger among residents in need.
“They were in crisis, particularly because of COVID,” said Claude Battaglia, their caseworker. “The family has been through a lot, and it seemed like they were good candidates.”
Nicole was born and raised in San Francisco, the seventh of eight children in a close-knit family. When she was in high school, the family relocated to Concord, and from there she moved on to Antioch and then to Pittsburg.
The family all live within a close radius. Reyna’s older sister, Christa, 31, lives next door with her two young daughters. There are aunts and cousins and grandparents within shouting distance.
At times the family has even been a little too close for comfort. Reyna recalls a period in 2013 when they moved into a duplex in Antioch next door to an aunt.
“That was great, being around my cousins every day for eight years,” Reyna said, telling the story with a benevolent chuckle, “until my cousins started bringing all their friends, and everybody had kids and their dogs, and I just got tired. After a while I just wanted some peace and quiet.”
Before she became disabled, Nicole worked in a range of medical offices around the East Bay, handling billing and records. She even worked for some of the doctors she would later consult for her own ailments.
Reyna went back to finish school and earn an associate’s degree in business operations at Los Medanos College, hoping that would help her contribute to the family finances. But work has been scarce, even non-existent during the pandemic. In recent months she’s been working nights at Safeway, but the hours aren’t sufficient.
“I’ve revamped my resume, and I’m looking for just about any kind of job,” Reyna said. “I’ve done secretarial jobs, I’ve done supervision, I was a tax preparers’ assistant before the pandemic. I’ve got skills, and where I don’t have the skills, I’ve got the skills to lead the people with the skills.”
Still, each month brings a struggle to cover the rent. One month, Nicole borrowed from her mother; in September, after the Season of Sharing assistance, she sold her car.
“There’s just never a moment where we have a security blanket or some type of safety net,” Reyna said. “We work really hard to make ends meet and try to build some savings so we can have something to fall back on.”
In the face of everything, both women seem to maintain a cheerful disposition, at least intermittently.
“You caught us on a good day,” Reyna said. “I mean, what else are we supposed to do? If I just sit and wallow in sadness it doesn’t do anything but make me feel worse.
“I try to hold to those little moments that make life worth living. You know, my nieces make life worth living. My mom, my sister, my boyfriend. We have each other.”
Joshua Kosman is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: jkosman@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @JoshuaKosman