‘They gave me a care pack. I was all alone’
Lockdowns have left many to face cancer without family support, says Cara Mcgoogan
Over the Easter weekend last year, Lindsey Roe discovered a lump in her breast. The country had been in lockdown for nearly three weeks. But for Roe, 35, the year was about to take another turn. “I’ve had a benign tumour in the past so I check my breasts regularly,” says Roe. “I googled it and was reassured – cancer is quite low down on the list. I decided to leave it, but it got bigger.”
Roe was torn over what to do next – she needed to see a doctor but was concerned about catching Covid. In the end, Roe, an accountant and mother of two girls from Dunstable, decided a visit to her GP was worth the risk. Her mother had died from breast cancer a decade ago.
The likelihood of catching Covid turned out to be low, as she was the only person in the surgery. They referred her to hospital and things moved quickly. Roe was booked in for a biopsy in three weeks’ time, but that evening, a doctor called to say they had an appointment the next week. It’s a rare story in a year when thousands of people have had cancer treatment cancelled or postponed, often to a detrimental effect. “I was quite lucky,” says Roe.
After the biopsy came an ominous call – could Roe come to the hospital to discuss her results? “Oh no, it is something then,” she recalls thinking. “My husband booked emergency time off to home school our girls and I went to the hospital alone to find out the news.”
Roe was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer. She caught it early, so it hadn’t spread to her lymph nodes.
“It was very difficult,” says Roe. “They gave me the news and handed me a breast cancer care pack. You have to wear a mask so, as I sat there crying, my mask got soaking wet. They gave me a box of tissues but you don’t have anyone around. You’re completely alone.” Roe phoned her husband. “It was hard to tell him over the phone,” she says, but she needed to let him know she would be back late as there were more tests to do. “I don’t know how I managed to drive home.”
The next morning, Roe had a panic attack at 5am and had to get up and pace around the garden. She says breaking the news to her family was the hardest part; putting on a brave face for her children, Claire, nine, and Emily, six. With schools closed and the country in lockdown, she wasn’t able to shield them from her illness as much as she would have liked.
Telling her dad was particularly tough. “I drove to my dad’s house, but it was the middle of the pandemic, so I had to let him know the news on the doorstep.” When her mum had cancer, Roe’s father was by her side throughout treatment – and the news brought it all back. “He was shocked and found it hard to take in. I couldn’t go inside or give him a hug. We couldn’t comfort one another.”
Roe had an emergency mastectomy at the Spire Harpenden, a private hospital that became a non-covid centre for NHS patients. She had to tell her sister over the phone, because her job delivering items to hospitals put her at a high risk of catching Covid. “If I got it I wouldn’t be able to have the operation. So I was panicking about getting ill as well as wanting to get the cancer out. That was quite stressful – I didn’t want to go in for appointments in case I caught [it].”
Roe was admitted for surgery just 10 days after her diagnosis. Because of the drop in people seeking treatment for cancer during the first lockdown, the process went quickly. But coronavirus guidelines still made things more difficult than normal – she had to go through the treatment alone.
“My husband drove me and my in-laws looked after my girls,” says Roe. “They weren’t allowed in the house so they went in the garden – even though that was technically against the rules.” She adds that it was lonely going through the process without someone by her side. “You can drive yourself crazy with your thoughts. I was thinking, I’m going to die like my mum. It’s hard not to think that when you’re on your own.”
After the surgery, Roe used Macmillan’s services for support. She connected with other patients who have been through similar experiences and its psychotherapy unit helped her decide not to have chemotherapy. After surgery, Roe started to have regular panic attacks so Macmillan arranged for a course of cognitive behavioural therapy. “I can now get up and live my life and cope with the thoughts. My main thought is ‘I’m going to die’ and it’s very hard to get over that. They’ve given me coping techniques to tell myself that just because it happened to my mum it doesn’t mean it will happen to me.”
Chris Payne, support line manager at Macmillan Cancer Support, says the pandemic has left people “really struggling, and emotions are heightened. We’re hearing from people every day who are feeling incredibly isolated, who are too scared to go outside because of their vulnerability to coronavirus and who have found receiving a diagnosis and going through treatment without loved ones by their side really distressing. For many, this pandemic feels like the worst possible Groundhog Day. We want them to know that they aren’t alone.”
Roe admits the strain has been difficult on her children. On some days, they had to make her lunch because she was in so much pain she couldn’t stand up. When they went back to school in September, they had a respite and started to receive mental health support. “My little one wrote a letter to Santa saying, ‘All I want for Christmas is for my mummy not to have cancer’, which shows how much it’s affected them. I cried on Christmas Eve reading that.”
Roe’s elder daughter, Claire did a swimming challenge to raise money for Macmillan. Over six weeks, she swam the length of the English Channel in their local pool and raised £1,600. She had a collapsed lung at birth and is asthmatic, so it was an extra challenge. “It gave me something to focus on and really helped with my anxiety and depression,” says Roe. “We got the local radio involved and they came down to the pool when she finished.”
In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Roe’s father was diagnosed with skin cancer. He’s now shielding before having surgery.
Roe is looking forward to the day she can see him properly again. “He’s the one person you want to go and see and cry on. I haven’t hugged my dad since March last year. I’m looking forward to hugging him again. It will be a nice relief.”
‘I had to tell my dad from his doorstep. We couldn’t comfort one another’