Treatment Anxiety During a National Health Crisis

This entire week I was concerned about moving forward with my infusion simply because I was worried about the hospital’s status in the wake of the coronavirus. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I had visions of people lining the walls, coughing, and sneezing without any protection and me walking away with the virus in tow. I was at a point in deciding to reschedule, but I knew that if I did, my health would be at risk. Although I finished chemo a few months prior, if I did not finish my series of protein blocker infusions, cancer just might come back.

I woke up and decided to drive myself to my appointment to avoid any interaction with anyone else. The fewer people I connected with in advance would save me from having to know more about the state of our world and the impact the coronavirus was having on our nation. I didn’t need to be more concerned than I was. The drive was peaceful, with limited traffic on the DC streets. It was calming not to have to be worried about traffic and finding a place to park. As I rolled up to the hospital, there were so many parking spaces available. There were no lines at the hospital anywhere. I thought that was quite odd, given the chaotic state of affairs on television. I didn’t question it further and arrived 40 minutes before my appointment. I had enough time to dart in a store and pick up a few things before I had to be there.

After my impromptu shopping, which helped delay the inevitable, it was time to head to treatment. As I crossed the street, there was a white tent and tables outside with folks wearing protective gear. The light rain drizzled as I approached the front door. There were still no lines anywhere. I simply told the employees at the outside table from a safe distance that I had an appointment. They pointed to the appropriate door for me to enter. Nurses jumped to their feet with thermometers in hand, and I was relieved that I had no temperature and extra relieved because they were there. No one was getting in that had any signs of illness on this day.

Signs were everywhere to ward off visitors. Anyone who might be feeling sick would not be able to stay. Ropes guided me directly to the elevator so that I or anyone else could not wander off. As I turned the corner, I saw a gentleman with gloves, face protective gear, and bacterial wipes. He asked where I was going and proceeded to push the elevator button for me since, as he mentioned, I had already helped myself to the sanitizer by the elevator doors. I would have to sanitize them again upon exiting if I touched anything. As I stepped off the elevator, there were only two other people in the waiting room, and they were sitting miles apart. I was relieved. The social distancing message was being heard, at least in here.

After signing in and another dose of sanitizer, I waited. Luckily I was called within a few minutes and escorted back to the infusion room thanking the nurses for their service during this difficult time. It was sparse in the infusion room compared to previous visits. I immediately realized that no one had any guest escorts. We were all there by ourselves to limit the number of people and the level of interaction. This would reduce the potential for the virus to spread even more. I realized this was the same space that always took precautions when it came to the health of cancer patients. They knew that immune systems were compromised here every day. It didn’t take a national health crisis for them to change how they treated their patients once they entered the room. Oncology nurses are used to dealing with patients who need protection from any potential virus. They are also aware that our anxiety is always high, and through their interactions, they sincerely do all they can to help us remain calm. They continue to do their jobs under the most extreme circumstances.

My infusion lasted less than an hour, and I was off again to my car after one last stop at the same store I visited previously. I just felt like I needed to grab something before all the stores closed. After getting back in my car, I finally realized that my appointment was less challenging than I thought it would be. The hospital was ready even though there were folks not working in the best weather conditions, and I’m sure they were as anxious as I was about the possibility of contracting the coronavirus. But I knew that I would go home and pray that I would be well, and three weeks later, I would have to hope for the best again. I am not sure, given the news, if the hospital will have the supplies they need, if the nurses will be as pleasant, or if I will be well enough to return.

Time will tell!

People like me who are in treatment for cancer or any other health condition have increased anxiety while they exist in a vulnerable state. We have no choice but to move forward and hope for the best. It is a choice between not getting our treatment, which increases the probability of cancer recurrence, or going to get treatment hoping everyone we encounter will be healthy. It is such a dilemma of which we have no control. Although this is how we have always lived, the current situation increases our anxiety by 10,000+. Because if we do become ill, fighting back will be harder and we are tired of fighting for our lives.

I will continue to stay home until our government resolves this situation, but I will also have to take my chances and return for treatment in three weeks. In the meantime, I will pray that the coronavirus subsides, and that everyone affected gets the resources they need to survive.