My last blog post was posted on January 20, 2026, seven days before I was told that my cancer had probably returned. I was immediately sucked in to the “testing tunnel” of scans, bloods, waiting, wide awake at 4am, exhausted, more waiting, and trying to stop my mind filling the information-void with the worst-case scenario.
A Freelancer with Cancer
Being a freelancer, I earn my living on a project-by-project basis. I speak at events around the world and work with clients on projects (this is where the majority of my income comes from). I also run the Doctor Dance Academy and create dance-based interventions, such as the Move-Assure Dance for Mental Wellbeing programme, Dance with Me, and the Dancing with Cancer programme.
I eventually saw my colorectal surgeon on February 23 who confirmed that the cancer had spread to my lymph node (to the para aortocaval node) and it might have spread to other sites as well. He told me that as the cancer was inoperable (the lymph node is in a tricky position), I’d be referred to an oncologist who’d oversee my treatment.
I told the surgeon that I had professional work-related meetings in New York the following week and asked whether it was safe to travel. He said yes, it was safe to travel, but that I should tell my insurance provider about the latest diagnosis.
Despite feeling absolutely fine (I have no cancer-related symptoms) I called AllClear insurance company and told them everything. Full disclosure. I asked for two travel insurance quotes. One for a single 6-day trip to New York and another for a multi-trip policy for a full year.
The initial quote for the single six-day trip was £8,151. What? I asked how much the annual multi-trip would be and was told that the cost was so high that they were unable to sell it to me.
I’d noticed on the AllClear website that they were running a special offer, so asked if they could make it any cheaper. The call handler was so upbeat as she tapped a few buttons before coming back with a revised quote. £8,127.99, but to secure this price, I was told, I had to buy it there and then. I didn’t (couldn’t) buy it.
New York, New York
I went to New York without travel/medical insurance and walked gingerly through Central Park in the snow trying not slip. I had a fantastic time working with the Search and Care charity and grooving on Good Day New York on Fox 5. I was so relieved when the sun came out and the snow melted.
Professional Priorities
In terms of professional priorities, the relationship between having a cancer diagnosis and the cost of travel insurance changes the whole business model of working face to face with international clients.
My current fee structure is based on my time and impact plus travel and accommodation costs. Adding on cancer-related travel insurance costs (whether these are added to the client’s bill, or absorbed personally), is likely to make shorter bookings, such as keynote speaking, economically unviable.
If international keynote speaking with cancer becomes economically unviable, I need to work out, fairly quickly, how to change my professional priorities so that I can continue to earn a living. On one level, this is a fairly standard divergent thinking task. There’s not one single right answer, I need to consider multiple alternative solutions and then evaluate them for feasibility and then create and execute a new professional plan.
Easy.
All I need is a clear head.
Cognitive Overload
Cognitive overload is a common characteristic of dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Thinking about different futures, absorbing the tonne of information you’re given on different aspects of the cancer experience. Interacting with so many different members of the treatment team (and trying to remember all their names and what role they play), remembering the details of different tests (come for a PET-CT scan at 5:15pm tomorrow and fast for 6 hours beforehand and then come for a CT Screening Test on Monday at 9.10am and fast for 2 hours beforehand). All the unanswered emails. Admin. This blood test is for genetic screening. Why do I need that? Telling people. Dealing with people hugging me in the street because they think I’m going to die tomorrow. I’m not! My head is full.
It is in this state of cognitive overload that you need to take a breath and ask, “How is cancer changing my professional priorities?” and you have to hope that you find an answer before the phone rings and the nurse says: “We’d like to book you in for your course of radiotherapy”.
Dr Peter Lovatt
21 March 2026
