10-07-2025
'€50 for petrol, €22 for parking': Extra hospital costs 'add insult to injury' for cancer patients
I had assumed actual highway robbery disappeared in the 18th century. Apparently not.
It's been a long, tough day. I'm not feeling well after a surgical procedure called a rhizotomy, or nerve block, for chronic complex pain. I'm face-to-face with a soulless digital device at the pay station in the hospital car park. It's demanding a ransom of €22 before it'll release my car and get me back on the motorway for the two-hour drive home.
I count myself lucky, I can afford the extortionate parking fees hospitals often charge patients. There are many people, families, who cannot.
My name is David and I'm 61 years old. I have advanced stage four leiomyosarcoma - a very rare cancer that starts in smooth muscle - and it's incurable. A cancer diagnosis, and subsequent treatment is both physically and emotionally exhausting.
The incremental, regular additional costs associated with cancer treatment simply adds insult to injury, and heaps additional stress on those of us who are already extremely fragile. It takes a significant toll on our pockets, and our mental health.
The scenario outlined above isn't a once-off. To be fair to some hospitals, if cancer patients are in for chemotherapy treatment, parking is usually capped at a nominal amount, maybe €5 per day.
But I'm in hospital every few weeks for scans, oncology consultations, day-case procedures and specialist drug treatment, which isn't chemotherapy. And that doesn't count admissions for major surgery where I may be hospitalised for weeks at a time.
It's a four-hour round trip from my home in Bagenalstown, Co Carlow, to St Vincent's Hospital in Dublin 4, which is €50 in petrol. There are sandwiches at €6 or €7 each, and a beverage at €3 or €4 each and additional wear and tear on my car that would otherwise not occur.
There are days off work, and while my employer has been unbelievably supportive, I sometimes take leave days. For parents there are childcare costs. There are costs associated with staying in hospital; parents and family staying in nearby hotels; fresh clothes, dressing gowns, slippers, toiletries.
My name is David Wilkins and I'm 61 years old. I have advanced stage four leiomyosarcoma - a very rare cancer that starts in smooth muscle - and it's incurable.
And for a range of drugs that have to be taken daily, some are either not covered by the GMS (General Medical Scheme) or have been withdrawn from the reimbursement list and have to now be paid for as an over-the-counter (OTC) purchase.
I take 1,800 tablets monthly. My drug regime is mostly to do with digestion, nausea and for pain management.
Following extensive intestinal surgery a few years ago, I had significant parts of my gut removed, partly or completely, and what was left was re-engineered to allow me to eat. This has left me reliant on drugs to digest my food and regulate diarrhoea, intestinal cramp and discomfort.
One of these drugs is commonly available over the counter, but I've been getting Buscopan Rx on the GMS scheme. I take 240 Buscopan a month. But the dispensary pack has just been discontinued by the manufacturer and will now cost me over €100 per month as an OTC purchase.
The costs are incremental, but endless and can add up to hundreds of euro per month in out-of-pocket expenses. Sometimes, thousands of euro a year.
Aside from the sometimes surreal experience of a life-threatening diagnosis like cancer, I genuinely wonder how families with children cope. I'm a grown-up, with no kids, and increasingly find myself struggling.
David Wilkins: 'It's been a long, tough day. I'm not feeling well after a surgical procedure called a rhizotomy, or nerve block, for chronic complex pain.'
It's difficult to articulate the emotional roller coaster that has been my cancer journey for the last 19 years.
Starting in my right arm, tumours spread to my legs, my abdomen, my liver, my hips, my right collar bone, which is permanently fractured, and just before Christmas last, I was told it has spread to my spine. I am due further major abdominal surgery on May 1.
I've had 30 tumours, 15 surgeries or surgical procedures, five courses of chemotherapy, eight courses of radiotherapy, six blood transfusions, a bout of sepsis which left me critically ill for six weeks and a pulmonary embolism.
I can be on top of the world one minute and weeping uncontrollably like a small child the next. My mood can swing from joy to misery; to panic and to anger. What in God's name have I done to deserve this? Sometimes it's just overwhelming and I need help.
Thanks to national cancer support services like the Irish Cancer Society, I have regular access to counselling. The Irish Cancer Society receives little government subvention and relies on volunteers and public donations to fund the lion's share of its vital services, like night nursing, counselling, Daffodil Centres and its support line.
They are life-saving beacons of hope in what is sometimes a very dark world for people like me, and others affected by cancer.
And a final note from me, for complete strangers that need a warm embrace and a quiet whisper, just remember: "You've got this."
Anyone with questions or concerns about cancer can contact the Irish Cancer Society Support Line on Freephone 1800 200 700 or email supportline@ .
