Getting Sick While Being Sick
If there is one thing that can make going through treatments for cancer or any other serious illness worse, it is coming down with something else. Contracting even the common cold is enough to delay treatments if blood cell counts get too low. And if you are like a typical cancer patient, as was I, you have a date written on the calendar, the last date of treatments. The last thing you want to have to do, is cross off that date, and write a “new” date, a later date, than what you had planned.
A post came across my media feed, “Super bummed. Found out that I have Covid so now EVERYTHING is pushed back, scans, treatments are delayed for 21 days. This sucks.”
I want to be clear, I am writing from the aspect of “been there, done that.” I was due to finish my chemo treatments in February of 1990. My first six cycles, though difficult, I managed to get through with no issues. While meeting with my oncologist, I asked him about the prospects of me being able to go skiing if I felt up to it, wanting not to get hurt or anything. I missed skiing over the previous two years, and felt good enough to try something “normal.”
While he did not disagree with me going skiing, he gave me this to think about. ”You dress in layers when you ski?” I replied yes. ”And you will probably sweat a lot, right?” Embarrassed I said, yes. ”And you are likely going to be around a lot of people in the lodge?”
My question was simple such as asking the time of day, and instead he was telling me how to build a watch. It was a “yes” or “no” question.
“Sure you could go skiing. But look, you only have two months to go yet. Do you really want to risk getting sick, having your blood counts go low, that would delay these remaining treatments?” He was a buzzkill for sure, but he was right. I had been dealing with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma now for nearly two years, and I wanted “done.” I wanted to be getting back to my life, temporarily taken away from me by cancer.
If skiing would not get me, something else would, and did. A month later, my final month, I came down with a cold, a stupid, pain in the butt, didn’t feel that awful, cold. And of course, it impacted my bloodwork. My last treatment would have to be delayed, hence as the “countdown” shows my anniversary date of March instead of February. I worked for a small “mom and pop” type company, but large enough, and in an office environment, that made the spread of illnesses quite easy. Somehow, I had avoided anything, without even thinking about it. Until now. I was devastated. Almost as bad as the day I got my diagnosis.
For the last four years now, we have been dealing with a horrific virus, in fact lethal for those vulnerable, especially going through cancer treatments, Covid-19. The hyper awareness and precautions needed are ten-fold what I was worried about back in 1990. But cancer facilities and other hospitals all over, have done what they can to protect their patients. The rest was up to the patients themselves and those around them.
To be transparent, even though I am thirty-three years out from my cancer, the late effects that I deal with from my treatments have left me vulnerable to a Covid-19 infection should that ever happen. The warning from my cardiologist is dire, “do not get Covid-19, you might not survive it with the condition of your heart.” So, long story short, I follow his advice. Not a big deal. And I have picked up in my life, pretty much to where it was prior to the pandemic, just following common sense precautions that have worked for me all these years, masks, hand sanitizing, and limiting exposure. Even recently, anticipating a visit from my daughters from college during their Christmas break, had to be cancelled due to a Covid-19 infection in the home. My daughters had not been infected “yet,” but they had been exposed and a decision had to be made. It turned out to be the right one, to cancel their trip, as three days later (the day after she would have arrived here), one of my daughters tested positive. Had she come down, she would have spread it to those on the plane, and in my case, worse, to me. Of course, we were all disappointed, but there will be other times as opposed to what could have happened otherwise.
So I can understand the patient’s angst for her schedule of scans and treatments being delayed. I’ve been there, done that. But I also have to shake my head, and to be fair, not knowing more details as to how the exposure occurred, whether by her own false sense of concern about Covid-19 (as cases go through their annual spike again), or whether someone around her, selfishly or ignorantly spread the Covid-19 to her. The reason at this point does not change, as she put it, that it “sucks.”
I will always play the buzzkill in this case. I want patients to finish their treatments as planned, on time. I know what that is like. But especially when it comes to Covid-19, both the patient and those around them, need to take the risks of exposure seriously. Fortunately, it is just the delay of treatment if they are lucky.
Paul's Heart 