Cancer in the Covid era will undoubtedly be a slightly different experience. In some ways it makes it a much lonelier journey, yet that also means it can at times be much more peaceful than might otherwise have been the case. Some of us decide to keep our cancer to ourselves, or a close-knit circle of friends / family, I took the other option and have been happy for anyone to know. I decided this would be less awkward for me, it has also helped to manage people’s understanding of my reluctance to embrace ‘Freedom Day’ with the gusto I have seen from some friends.
On the downside, Covid meant I went to my first few appointments on my own as I couldn’t have my husband with me. He would drive me there to support me, then spend hours waiting in car parks. This was the case for my first ENT appointment in the November and again my first two appointments at New Cross with my MaxFac consultant. One advantage of this though, is that I haven’t been the only person on my own, so waiting rooms are a much quieter place, less cramped and there is usually a seat available. Also, with less people around it just felt that appointment times were much more efficient. I’m not sure if my husband would have been more worried waiting around with me the day I had my CT scan, ultrasound and FNA biopsy. Seeing me in a hospital gown waiting for my scan would have been difficult, at least I have saved him much of that.
Covid sucked when I had my second appointment, where my surgeon confirmed that they thought it was tonsil cancer and I was given a pack full of booklets about the tonsillectomy, having heads & neck cancer, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. The CNS was lovely as she took me through everything that would be happening in the next few weeks, I then had to troop across the hospital on my own for my pre-op assessment. What’sApp was the only way I could communicate with my husband and update him on what was happening and how long I was likely to be. It was even worse on the day of my tonsillectomy, being walked to the front entrance of the hospital with my bag and then walking through the hospital on my own. Tears were literally streaming down my face. I think this was the first time I thought “F*** it, I look a mess, but I have cancer and I don’t care what anyone else thinks”. It wasn’t the cancer upsetting me, but the fear of not coming out of the general anaesthetic and that the crappy goodbye we’d had at the entrance might be our last goodbye, his last memory of me. On the flip side, the day surgery ward was nice and quiet. There was no messing and waiting around and I just went straight into the theatre to be prepped there.
Being in lockdown also meant that I couldn’t drive through three counties to see my brother and dad to tell them about the cancer. This had to be done over video call. That was tough, but I guess it also made it quicker, there was no two hours of awkwardness over a meal, having given them the news on arrival. Aside from my boss and one colleague, the only people I actually broke the news to face to face were two old friends from university, stood in their front garden having dropped off their Christmas presents. I think that was a blessing and it made it much easier to let people know. There was the odd tricky e-mail from colleagues, who noticed my absence and asked how I was. Tricky not to be honest when you are off the scene for seven months. I could just imagine the tumbleweed as they read my response, ‘I have tonsil cancer’. The number of people who said they just wanted to give me a hug, I think the squeezing would have killed me before the cancer, so maybe another blessing!
We were all in lockdown, there had been the do-they-don’t-they debate of the 3 day Christmas family gatherings, that was reduced to Christmas Day in England. We had all decided as a family that we wouldn’t be meeting up as we usually do. We had however debated spending time with our granddaughter, having missed so much time with her. At this stage I still didn’t know if / what type of cancer it was, so I was having days fearing it could be my last Christmas Day, that I desperately wanted to see her so that we could have some pictures of it for her to know she had spent at least one Christmas Day with Grandma. We agreed to meet up and take a walk over Cannock Chase with the dog, this seemed the safest thing to do. Having spoken with my consultant on Christmas Eve it was even more special, although we didn’t break the news that day. Shielding ourselves was made so much easier because everyone else had to miss out on spending time with friends and family too, there weren’t pictures all over social media to rub salt into the wound. It was the same at New Year, in the past we have gone away or at least out for a meal and struggled to get message through to friends and family as the networks were overloaded. This year I think we were sound asleep my 10pm, without a single nagging doubt that we were missing out on a party. So, another silver lining there – we could bunker down for the festivities, enjoy some dog walking and socialise online without feeling in any way that we were different from anyone else.
Being able to work from home as a teacher was also something that wouldn’t have been considered pre-Covid. By December we were all accustomed to Teams teaching, either all at home, or some in and some out for hybrid lessons. This worked fine for my 6th formers, we switched all their lessons online and they stayed at home. For my Years 10 and 11 classes I logged in from home and delivered the lesson with a cover teacher in the classroom, this worked sometimes, but not as well depending on the cover teacher. Thankfully we had recruited, and by pure chance had taken on two new staff, one a trainee rather than the one we had been looking for. This meant they were able to pick up my lessons and those of a colleague going on maternity leave in the February. After taking two weeks off for my tonsillectomy I returned for three and a half weeks doing exam admin and marking WFH. This meant I could set things up to support my colleague who was going to look after the department in my absence, it also made me feel better that I was leaving fewer jobs to complete knowing that they were in for a manic time with QTAGs. Missing QTAGs in themselves (whereby instead of exams or algorithms teachers had to set multiple tasks, mark them themselves, use them to calculate grades, then complete a stack of paperwork to justify their decisions, having attended hours of training and planning meetings on how to do this) was a benefit to me in terms of timing, if I was going to have to go through the horrors of cancer treatment I may as well do it in a year where my workload would have tripled. Looking ahead, there may also be more flexibility with my phased return to work, being able to work from home on mornings / afternoons I am not teaching if I am feeling tired, so I can nap and get work done when needed / able to. This would have been unimaginable in a secondary school two years ago, for this I am grateful.
Selfishly, I also found that not having the stream of family, friends and colleagues coming to the house that might have happened without Covid wonderful. I didn’t have the energy or inclination to entertain anyone, and I could slob out in my comfies with no make-up without any pitying looks as to how poorly I looked. This was especially so as treatment progressed and in the first few weeks of recovery, I couldn’t eat or talk, so the last thing I wanted was to sit staring at people writing notes on a mini white board. I remember when my mum was ill with cancer neighbours would bring round casseroles and home-made lemonade. Some of which she liked. As those of you with throat cancer know, eating is just a nightmare, so it would have driven me mad seeing people go to the effort of making food and bringing it over, having read somewhere you need to eat this to fight cancer, or everything being pureed because I couldn’t chew only for me to throw it in the bin because I couldn’t face what they had made. It has been tough enough for my husband putting up with my food whims and tantrums, people less close could have been all too easily offended! At least when they message ideas you can smile, say thank you and delete. However, I am very conscious this probably made things much harder for my husband. I did hear him choking up a bit on the phone as he talked with a couple of friends. It was good that he could chat to our neighbours too, some face-to-face understanding helped him more that they will ever realise. We literally bunkered down, hubbie, pooch and me – the three amigos fighting the beastly disease. I could sleep and eat when I wanted and talk to people when I felt like it, being completely selfish about it all – a first for me in life. Yes, it was lonely at times, but for the most part I enjoyed the peace and quiet. It has helped me to restore some calm to my life after years of over-working and burnout.
Treatment was also so much more efficient, in the cancer ward you could only have someone with you on clinic days. Again, waiting areas were well spaced, quite and felt safe. Waiting times were a little longer on clinic days as no-one ever rushed you and if this happened with everyone, there was bound to be a knock-on. Radiotherapy was efficient, changed, on the bed, blasted, changed and out, all done in about 30 minutes unless there was the odd hold-up. There was a poor chap before me who frequently panicked, so there could be delays for him, but I just carried on reading. My chemo nurses much preferred the Covid approach. I honestly can’t imagine each bay having another chair squeezed in and how tricky this would be to navigate your way round unplugging to go to the loo. Never mind the extra noise that conversation from all those relatives would have made. The pings and dings to say the next dose is due was the soundtrack to chemo days, white noise that you could easily ignore after the first time. This made it much easier to recline and doze, and let the nurses get on with their job. They were rushed off their feet as it was, they really don’t need anything to make it harder. So, in my humble opinion, I think the NHS actually worked more efficiently in many ways and I hope they keep some of their Covid practices in place. Of course, there may be many of you who disagree and would have liked company for chemo and I fully respect your view.
As lockdown eased it became harder to avoid FOMO (fear of missing out). Especially seeing pictures of my granddaughter here and there with different people. I would normally spend school holidays looking after her and going out, but with the PEG and fatigue I just don’t feel I can reliably commit to that. I would love to go out for a lovely meal and enjoy cocktails, as many of my friends appear to be doing, but eating and drinking are so overrated to me at the moment there is little pleasure in it. Watching others enjoy it reminds me of my loss at the moment. Add to that the anxiety of being around too many people, let’s be honest recovering from throat cancer is horrible, I have never been so ill in my life, so the last thing I want now is to catch Covid and be ill again, double jabbed or not doesn’t mean you can’t get it or pass it on. Thankfully being on the vulnerable list did get me jabbed sooner, and should see me on the booster list, but I will still be cautious as the winter bugs come round.
Covid also meant that we got a refund on our holiday to France, which had been moved from last year anyway. When I e-mailed the gite owner and explained the cancer she was lovely about it and sent a full refund. This was fortunate in many ways, one being we didn’t need to have the dog looked after as she isn’t ready to travel that far yet. Now that I am on the mend, we have booked a cottage in the Peaks for October, a whole week away for the same price as a deposit for 10 days – bargain! Not that it is a very hot summer this year, but I won’t have to worry about protecting the skin on my neck from the sun so much in the autumn, I will also hopefully be eating a little better and getting less fatigued. I am looking forward to lots of fresh air and exercise with my partners in crime. We’ve been discussing the environment, Covid and having the dog a lot recently. The cancer and recently diagnosed rheumatoid arthritis will either mean I can’t get travel insurance or that its is extortionate, we really don’t want to put the pooch in kennels and have looked back on out short breaks to Barcelona, or holidays in Ibiza and thought – what has been the cost to the earth of this. So, we will most likely be booking dog friendly cottages in the UK for the next few years. We live in a beautiful country and providing you have the waterproofs with a nearby pub to enjoy a pint in (one I can) that lets the dog in that will do us.
So, to sum up. Cancer sucks. Covid sucks. If you have to live your life in a way that they affect you it might as well be at the same time. The world stopped in many ways – a bit like the film ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’, the old black and white version. So if you have to put your life on hold for a while, good to time it along with the rest of your family and friends. OK, it has been a lonely path at times, but one that afforded me the space to cope. That will forever be my biggest lockdown silver lining
