Living in the UK in 2025 takes a hell of a lot of trust. We have to trust that the mechanic doing our car’s MOT won’t charge too much and won’t make a fatal error. We have to trust that the hairdresser will do a good job of shearing our overgrown mops so we don’t have to wear a hat for six weeks. We have to trust that the plane we are flying to our well-earned two-week holiday in the sun is captained by a qualified pilot.
We have to trust that one day someone who knows how to run the country will step up and take charge. And when it comes to medical care, we have to trust that the people treating us know what they are doing. This is especially true in my case, as I have incurable bowel cancer and have to believe that my medical team knows what they are doing.
So I think it’s understandable that I reacted by asking “what the actual f***?” in a recent consultation with a doctor from my cancer treatment team. I didn’t ask the question out loud, but definitely thought it.
My question wasn’t in response to the doctor saying that the MRI and CT scan results I had been expecting weren’t back. I had been warned of a delay because of staff shortages, so I had mentally prepared myself for the anxiety of waiting for results, which would tell me whether my tumours have spread, to continue.
My question was in response to something the doctor asked me. I said I was hoping to do some filming of a chemotherapy session to demystify parts of treatment, and he asked if I was working full-time.
Two weeks before seeing him, I had been in hospital on the Monday for blood tests and a doctor consultation, Tuesday for an MRI scan, Wednesday for chemotherapy, Friday for my chemotherapy pump disconnection, and Saturday for a CT scan.
So, how did the doctor think I would have time to work full-time? My employer is very accommodating in allowing me to work as and when I can. But most jobs aren’t like mine.
Can you imagine trying to explain to your boss that you’re happy to work all week, but the only day you can guarantee you’ll be in is Thursday? I don’t think they’d be pleased.
And with cancer patients, it isn’t just a case of not being able to work because of having to be at hospital appointments. My chemotherapy is a challenging treatment course with side effects including fatigue, nausea, and diarrhoea.
On their own, they are the kind of things you could deal with for a day and soldier on by saying you’ll work from home. But what if they never stop until the treatment stops, and you know that won’t happen until you’re lying in a coffin and are six feet under.
For me, the most alarming part of the doctor’s question is that it seemed he really didn’t know how impossible it is for cancer patients to work full-time. He didn’t seem to know about the impact that treatment has on the person undergoing such a gruelling regime.
I’m leading the Daily Express’s Cancer Care campaign as it’s vital that all patients have access to mental health support both during and after their treatment. Medical teams must realise that mental health issues are one of the main side effects of cancer.
And clearly some of them need a bit of educating about the physical side effects, too.
Working is great for my mental health and is helping me through my “cancer journey”. But it can only happen when I’m not feeling wiped out by my treatment, and it definitely can’t happen full-time.
This story originally appeared on Express.co.uk
