the times | Tuesday July 21 2020 1GT 7
bodyhealth&soul
me to a hairdresser who fashioned
me new hair based on a grainy
photograph. In the meantime, the
closure of barber shops during
lockdown has caused a run on hair
clippers, which initially scuppered
my partner’s plan to shave off his
hair in solidarity. After we eventually
got hold of a set, a neighbour praised
us for our “Covid haircuts”, not
knowing I was ill.
To receive a cancer diagnosis at the
peak of a global pandemic feels like
bad luck or terrible timing. I realise
that for many people with a chronic
illness the idea that there might be
an upside to the lockdown will be
distasteful. However, I have found a
strange comfort in some things. Due
to my chemotherapy treatment, I am
immuno-compromised and even in
“peace time” would need to avoid
crowded spaces and take extra care
to avoid infection. During lockdown
I have been classified as clinically
extremely vulnerable and advised
by the government to shield.
This has given me priority on food
delivery slots, as well as the right to
a regular government food box, the
contents of which, designed to last a
household for a week, would make a
food critic wince. These emergencyprovisions tend to comprise two large
cartons of UHT milk, a variety of
tinned goods (butter beans, mushy
peas or chicken meatballs in gravy),
a loaf of white sliced bread, a packet
of digestives, a bag of sweaty carrots
and a bar of soap. Conscious that there
are some people far more in need of
government care packages than me, I
deregistered from the service and took
half of it to the food bank.
At the risk of sounding Pollyanna-
ish, I can say that lockdown has had
other benefits. Under normal
circumstances, shielding would require
a huge shift in daily life, but everybody
is existing under the same conditions
as I am. In some ways social distancing
has made it easier for me to manage
my illness. Equally, during lockdown
everyone’s life has been put on hold;
that all my friends are experiencing a
similar freeze has helped me to come
to terms with pausing my studies and
juddering to a halt aged 22.
Focusing on small upsides is a
coping strategy. To be diagnosed
with cancer is a devastating reminder
of your mortality. To be diagnosed
with cancer in the midst of a global
pandemic feels like a dystopian
fantasy. Yet when you find yourself
adrift, you have no choice but to let
the current take you. I try not to ask
myself, “Is this real?” because all too
often I am unsure of the answer.
I am in good hands, but the care
that I am receiving in Bath is a
reminder of the postcode lottery
in this country. I also know I am
fortunate to be living in the South
West, an area less affected by the
pandemic than other parts of the
UK. Had I happened to be living
in a more deprived area, or one that
was worse hit, cancer and coronavirus
in lockdown would have been a very
different story.immuno-compromised patients led
to a novel solution. A deal agreed
between NHS England and the
Independent Healthcare Providers
Network meant that thousands of
cancer patients would be treated at
private facilities; my first four
chemotherapy treatments were
provided by NHS staff at a private
hospital near Bath.
Any illusions I may have had about
the appeal of private healthcare were
shattered on arrival. The Norman
Foster-designed building had the air
of an executive airport lounge; the
countryside views, oak floors and
Michelin-starred chef could not make
up for the hostile reception I received
as an NHS patient.
While I was grateful to be treated,
the stratification at the private hospital
was deeply disconcerting. On my first
visit a thermometer at the entrance
gave five different readings. The staff
panicked and, on learning that I was
an NHS patient, shut me in a room
alone for an hour without explanation.
I had psyched myself up for treatment,
but this threw me; in all the hours
spent at the hospital, it was the only
time I cried. It was a great relief when,
in mid-June, the chemo unit returned
to its home at the Royal United
Hospitals in Bath.
For anyone who had taken for
granted the importance of the human
side to medicine, the measures
adopted in response to the pandemic
have been a wake-up call. Take
masks, for example. We know they
are to be worn for our safety and the
safety of NHS staff. Yet although
a lot is communicated through
someone’s eyes, if a nurse is inserting
a cannula into your vein and pumping
poison into your body, there is no
replacement for being able to see
a reassuring smile.
And there is something deeply
unnerving (for you and your
neighbours) about a doctor walking
up your garden path in a full hazmat
suit for a procedure as simple as a
pre-chemo blood test. In the era
of coronavirus, care takes on a
sci-fi dimension.
It is lonelier too. Visitors are no
longer allowed in the hospital, so I
have had to face chemotherapy alone.
Normally a patient can bring a family
member, but my partner is forced to
say goodbye to me at the entrance and
spend hours waiting around in car
parks for me to emerge sickly and
green around the gills. He is kept at
arm’s length by the strict measures in
place, yet the enforced isolation of the
pandemic means that the burden of
care — physical and emotional — has
fallen squarely on his shoulders.
We have all been forced to turn
to technology to stay in touch with
loved ones during lockdown, but
digital communication has its limits.
I had to tell my parents and my
friends that I had cancer over the
phone. After one too many difficult
conversations where I ended up
comforting them, I began to make
light of my diagnosis and ended up
selling myself short. Inadvertently,
I developed a script and became
more and more mechanical in my
delivery. Breaking the news to loved
ones at a distance, I have struggled
to strike the balance between
reassurance and grim honesty.
Being fitted for a wig over Whatsapp
had its challenges too. The Little
Princess Trust — a fantastic charity
that provides real-hair wigs for
children and young people — referred
Being fitted
for a wig over
Whatsapp had
its challenges
Suddenly, it’s 5pm and people find
they haven’t taken a lunch break.”
Cooper says that the problem
of overworking, which affects all
occupations and levels of careers,
is about to get worse as we return
to the workplace with a recession
looming. “What you find is that work
hours go up even further as people
feel insecure about their jobs and
want to show presenteeism, even
if they are frightened of returning.
Which means that something that
is already a big problem is about
to get even worse.”
It’s something that experts worry
will compound the nation’s health
problems further. Dr Gail Kinman,
a visiting professor of occupational
health psychology at Birkbeck
University of London, who will
publish a paper next month for the
British Psychological Society on the
subject of presenteeism, says she is
“saddened that people still think that
working long hours is a way to be
more productive, when the evidence
shows the opposite.” She blames poor
role models, such as Elon Musk, who
has boasted of working more than
120 hours a week.
It is something that managers and
employers need to watch out for and
not exploit. “If that kind of working
pattern is encouraged it won’t end
well,” she says. It can in fact lead to
days off and lack of productivity.
According to the Office for National
Statistics, 15.4 million working days
were lost to work-related stress,
depression or anxiety in 2017-18,
accounting for 57 per cent of all
working days lost to ill health.
Kinman adds that in the present
health scare, overwork is of
particular concern. “We’ve got
a global disease that relies on
attacking our immunity; if you don’t
get adequate sleep and rest then
you’re much more likely to pick up
disease and less likely to fight it off.”W
hile a return to
the office might
feel like a holiday
compared with
the pressures
of working at home during
lockdown, experts warn that
the accompanying long-hours
workplace culture can affect
our health.
A new study, published this
month in the journal BMC Public
Health , surveyed 32,000 working
adults and found that those who
worked longer and reported poor
work/life balance were twice as
likely to say that their health was
poor. The association between
poor health and a bad work/life
balance was slightly higher
for women, and the UK and
Ireland reported the worst
work/life balance out of all
30 European countries.
“Long working hours has an
effect on your fatigue levels,
which can lead to burnout and
other stress-related illness,”
explains Cary Cooper, a professor
of organisational psychology and
health at Manchester Business
School who has authored
separate global studies on the
effects of working hours on health.
“But it also can damage your home
life because you’re investing less time
there, which can add to your stress
and also erode your support system.”
The study found that women
suffered poor health slightly more
than men due to “higher demands
from household activities and other
care responsibilities”, according to
the co-author Dr Nicholas Kofi
Adjei. He added that the UK and
Ireland fared worse than Nordic
countries “because of the strong
male-breadwinner tradition, minimal
social policies and poorly regulated
labour market”.
The research is not the first to
point to the health problems that
excessive work can bring. Last year
the American Heart Association
found that working long hours for
ten years or more may be associated
with strokes, with those under the
age of 50 having a higher risk
when working long hours for
a decade or more.
Meanwhile, researchers at Ohio
State University found in 2016 that
women who averaged 60 hours or
more at their desks over three
decades risked tripling their risk
of diabetes, cancer, heart trouble
and arthritis.
While some have found that
working from home offers flexibility
and balance, others report finding it
harder to cope. “Many people are
working harder than normal, partly
because they feel they need to prove
they are not taking advantage of
a working-from-home situation,”
says Dr Niall Campbell, a consultant
psychiatrist at the Priory Hospital
in Roehampton.
“Plus, home isn’t the office. Back-
to-back Zoom meetings are draining
and time-consuming and it can just
take longer to do things when you
don’t have colleagues at your elbow
and all the work apparatus about.Sign up for
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When being a high-flyer is bad
news for your health By Jessica Salter
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