It's A Small World When You Have Covid And Cancer

~October 2022

“Have you had Covid yet?” was one of the very first questions my oncologist asked when we met her at the start of this journey in May. When I replied that I hadn’t, nor had anyone in my family, her face fell. I was stunned as I would never have expected this response.

Living in Ontario, most of the precautions to prevent the spread of Covid fell by the wayside this summer. Despite safeguards being removed, I continue to live life like it is 2020. I’ve had four vaccinations against Covid, and I was given a dose of Evusheld, an antibody drug. I limit my outings to what can be deemed essential (medical appointments or grocery shopping), when I go into any building I wear a medical grade KN95 mask, and I only visit with friends outside.

This September, the kids went back to school without masks. There was no talk of social distancing in the principal's letter. The desks in the classroom are no longer spread apart and all forward facing. Gone were the preventative measures for keeping Covid at bay.

Sure enough, one of my sons came home with a wicked cough. We tested him repeatedly and the result was always negative so we were not too worried. 10 days later I started to feel unwell with a runny nose, sore throat and aching body. A temperature check revealed I was running slightly warmer than usual, but still under 38°C. I knew what was coming. I awoke at 3:00 am and sure enough I’d hit the magic number. As a cancer patient, you are warned that any fever, no matter how slight, is not to be ignored. I was under strict instructions that should I have a fever of 38°C, I was to report to the hospital emergency. I was still hesitant to go. These days, wait times in hospitals are long.

I decided I’d do a Covid swab at home. Two bright pink lines showed up. Could it be a false positive? I did another one for good measure. There they were again; 2 neon pink lines. There was no question. I had Covid. We called the 24 hour support line for cancer patients and explained the situation. They advised us to head to the hospital.

The good doctors and nurses at the hospital ran all their tests. A chest x-ray to check if Covid had caused issues with my lungs. A ECG scan to see if there was a problem with my heart. Multiple blood tests to check my blood cell counts, electrolyte levels, and some to be sent off for blood cultures. And of course the nasal swab. I pulled out the plastic baggie containing the two tests I’d done at home in hopes this would save me from further abuse to my nose. It was to no avail. The nurse insisted on not one, but two tests; one rapid and one PCR test.

Thankfully everything, except the Covid tests, came back clear. I was given Tylenol for my headache and to bring down the fever and Gravol for the nausea. I was sent on my merry way with instructions to wait for the call for an appointment for antiviral medication. I was also told that should my condition worsen I was to report back to the emergency room. When I was home, I relayed my hospital adventure to my youngest son. He was very concerned that they asked me to eat small rocks to fix my nausea. He could not fathom why they would feed me gravel. LOL! Over the next 48 hours, my symptoms lessened and I was left with a runny nose and a cough.

A lovely woman called and let me know I was scheduled for an appointment to receive Remdesivir, an antiviral medication, bright and early on Monday morning. And Tuesday morning. And Wednesday morning. Three consecutive days of an hour long IV infusion. She warned me that even if I started to feel better before Monday, I was to not cancel the appointment. The worry was that my body might be fighting off the virus now, but my white blood cell levels were about to plummet due to my recent chemotherapy treatment. Once my white blood cell count dropped, my body would have a much harder time and my symptoms could get much worse.

Bring on the Remdesivir. Monday morning, I went for my appointment, came home and went to bed. Tuesday morning, the nurse remarked that I must be feeling better as I bounced into the office bright and chipper. An hour later I left and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed. It was clear the Remdesivir was making me feel sick. Wednesday the nurse agreed with me; nausea was one of the possible side effects. The week was a right off; three full days spent in bed feeling less than okay, a day of being sick last week, and the day spent in hospital.

I’ve come to learn that as an immunocompromised person, my body may take longer to rid itself of an infection or virus. While the normal human is considered infectious with Covid for 10 days, I am likely still contagious up to 21 days. My life as a cancer patient is very small and limited. I stay home and only visit with friends outside. My life as a cancer patient with Covid, is even smaller as I can not visit with friends for fear of passing this illness along. On top of this, my next course of chemotherapy may need to be postponed by a week if I am not well enough. I now understand why my oncologist was hopeful that I’d already had Covid.

One of the coolest parts of being a cancer patient with Covid is that my swab was sent away for variant detection. I can officially say I had Omicron or SARS CoV2 B.1.1.529.

One of the pieces I am reminded of regularly along this journey, is that if you are in pain or feeling unwell, then ask for medication. If you already have medication and it isn’t doing a good enough job, ask for a different one. There is no need to suffer. Gravol is great for curing nausea, but don’t eat small rocks, they could very well make your stomach ache worse.

#Covid #Cancer #Remdesivir