Isn’t the cancer journey uncertain? You feel you have it “sorted” only for something to happen and challenge the strategy you had come to terms with. . . . . or had you?!
I had been cheerily thinking how quickly the four weeks had passed since the last visit to the Day Unit. Great! Can’t wait for the next visit. I had films chosen and the laptop was charged up. 
I developed a new cough. I felt a bit lethargic. Then I woke up hourly at midnight, 1am, 2am. I decided to take a covid test on Sunday AM to show all was well. No other outcome was possible in my mind.
**BUGGER!!**
Of all the weeks! I have bloods on Monday and treatment on Wednesday. I spend some time trying to find out the current attendance rules for hospital appointments. I can’t find the current protocol and Nicola isn’t on the telly daily anymore to remind me!
I phone on Monday. The day unit has just moved (hospital) and I don’t know whether they have retained their old number. I phone three different numbers trying to get a route in. Although people pick up the phone the people I need to speak to aren’t picking up their extension and it’s very frustrating. Deep down I know it’s a “you can’t have it”. But there is covid protocol online from 2021 which explains how to continue with SACT (Systematic Anti-Cancer Therapy) following a positive covid test. I even google false positive covid tests but I can see the statistics are not on my side. 
I totally understand the psychology here. Although I have been coming to terms with potentially stopping treatment in 2024 because that’s when the full benefit is achieved, this is a cessation of a cycle not of my choosing. I’m not in control and therein lies the crux.
My disappointment is tangible.
A pharmacist phones about the anti-viral treatment for covid. She explains I’ll have to get someone to pick-up the prescription for me from the Vic, 20 mins drive away. That confirms it. I’m not allowed into hospital. I pass on the covid treatment. Irrational logic probably but covid is not my friend and I am in no mood to lend my body to science on this occasion. In reality, although ipilimumab is a qualifying drug, the intended audience is people who are at risk of hospitalisation and I’m just not in that space.
I give-up with contacting the day unit. The positive covid result is on my NHS record so they should see it?
Tuesday is the phone check-in with the day unit. The friendly nurse specialist phones. She knows something is “up” because there are no bloods but she doesn’t know why and her approach and tone is totally apt. “We’ve got you down for treatment tomorrow?” she probes. She understands my disappointment. Finally, I find out the “rules”! It’s 2 weeks following a positive covid test before you’re allowed in the chemo day unit and one week perhaps for the general hospital areas (I didn’t really pay attention to that bit). The good news is that we rescheduled it in there and then, for 2 weeks’ time. I was anticipating the “skip the cycle” approach which would have meant waiting 4 weeks, so I am delighted to be back on schedule quicker.
On Thurs morning hubby tests positive. We haven’t been doing isolation in the home. This means we can’t go to my daughter’s uni orchestra concert. It also means it’s a wise move for her to stay at uni for a few days longer. She was going to come home on Sat for the Easter break. I took time off work next week to do fun things together. I’m calling it the covid cascade effect.
And finally, hubby is dying with the covid. MEN!!!
