Isolation

The view I'm stuck with from my flat

It seems we all have an interesting few months ahead. 

Three weeks ago, after a pretty miserable few weeks in the UK, I decided to get away. Partly because I wanted to try and have a break from the routine of hospital appointments and give myself some space to breathe from everything going on here but mostly because I love travelling and seeing the world. Just seven days ago I was in a bar in Medellín, Colombia. Knocking back shots of their evil spirit, aguardiente; dancing non-ironically to reggaeton; and generally having a great time. The dark clouds of coronavirus were looming heavily overhead, making all the foreigners pretty nervous about travel plans, but in that moment life felt normal. Arriving at Gatwick on Tuesday, into what is the worst global crisis we’ve had for decades, it really felt like stepping down from the plane into a dystopian future. 

The current situation will affect people in different ways. For some, being stuck indoors all day will leave them feeling fed up and claustrophobic. Many will be worried about their health, or for their family or friends. Others will lose their jobs or businesses as the economy takes a dose dive. Then there are the people working in healthcare who are at the frontline of the crisis, heroically putting themselves through hell at the moment. I have friends who work in the NHS who are describing the situation as bleak with services being cut, morale low, supplies in short supply and everything being shifted to help those dealing with the virus. It is scary that this is only the beginning. Everyone’s experience is going to be different and everyone will have their own reality. 

This is my reality. Due to the pandemic, my oncologist has said I can not currently have treatment. His reasoning is that it would leave me vulnerable to becoming ill at a time when there are not enough resources to help and also because the nurses normally available are busy helping others. The issue with this is that as I have Stage IV cancer and I’m not receiving any other treatment, I’m effectively being abandoned by the medical system at a pretty critical time. I am already outliving the prognosis given if I wasn’t to receive any more treatment, so I do have the feeling I am being condemned to ‘fate’ (avoiding the more morbid but appropriate word choice). Whilst I was initially angry at the decision, I understand it. I haven't even been emotional, instead just oscillating between feeling pensive and flat. I don't realisation is yet to properly sink in. 

So, like many people, I am stuck at home for the foreseeable future. My sister works for the NHS and has spent a large amount of the last fortnight around hospitals, so she has sensibly moved out for a few weeks to avoid inadvertently hospitalising me as I fall into the group of having an ‘underlying health condition’. So I am in the flat alone. Luckily I am currently still (somehow!) feeling as well as I’ve felt since I first started treatment so the practical side of this is fine. I am probably spending my time like most people - intending to read but instead watching netflix, doing a bit of exercise, trying to make meals out of whatever scraps are left in the supermarket. I’m pretty well practised now at keeping myself busy and keeping things in perspective.

But for me, unlike for most people, this might not be temporary. As these measures turn from weeks into months, as seems likely, it becomes quite unlikely that I will see the other side of it. The time I was hoping to spend seeing family and friends will be severely limited. Pubs, parties, meals and movie nights will be relegated to - at best - walks in the park, talking from across my rooftop, and a lot of texting and talking to each other through screens. I thought that when it got to this point, If i was physically fine, I would be spending my time visiting my favourite places, eating at my favourite places and enjoying myself with my favourite people. Not stuck in a flat, waiting for the inevitable, reduced to contacting people through technology where you might as well be a thousand miles away. It is really upsetting when I think that I might not be able to hug the people I love or have a normal face to face conversation with them, perhaps ever again. I’ve spent a lot of time in isolation over the months but I’ve never been away from the people who I care about and who have been there to talk to, laugh with and take care of me. They have been the people who have made the last few years so much fun, in spite of everything, and a real life-support. So I have a real feeling that for other people this is something to knuckle down and get on with, for me there is no light at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel is all there is, and the only question is how long it goes on for. 

So that’s my situation. What I’ve written above is pretty bleak but I don’t intend to dwell on things or give up all hope. I had a call with my therapist a few days ago and he said the main impression he got was that I was not ready to die. He meant it as a neutral statement but I agree with him and it’s helping me through this. As I have said, physically I’m asymptomatic and I’m doing pretty well mentally as well. I am looking to speak to other oncologists to see if they think I’m a suitable candidate for treatment at the moment. I am keeping healthy and looking at the more alternative methods people have used to keep progression at bay in the hope I can see this period out. On top of that I’m spending my days either laughing with friends, relaxing, meditating, keeping active and binge-watching Narcos and Better Call Saul. I have a few periods a day where I feel down but they don’t usually last too long and I’m able to get out of them. But as time goes on I do think it will be harder to keep my mind from wandering. It’s incredibly difficult to both keep hoping things will be alright whilst also trying to come to some form of acceptance that I am likely to die soon. I faced the same dilemma when I was first diagnosed and the feeling was paralysing. 

What’s going on in the world right now is scary. Like everyone else, I am hoping that the more pessimistic scenarios don’t happen and that soon the world goes back to relative normality. For the moment, we just have to hope that the decisions made by those in power are the right ones, and continue supporting our health services. The best way we can do that is follow the guidelines and to practise social distancing and self-isolating. This is the way that other countries have got on top of this. It is the way we give hospitals a fighting chance of mitigating this disaster and, for me personally, probably the only way of giving me a chance to lead a normal life again.