have to undergo general anesthesia, surgery, and painful rehab again. While her husband was allowed in the waiting room during her first worrisome mammogram and ultrasound in early March, Amy had to go alone for her biopsy and the MRI that confirmed the diagnosis. Then she went by herself to her surgery, and recovered in isolation.

I didnt see anyone I knew for 36 hours after having a part of my body amputated, she said. Worse, though, was her inability to be with Landen as he lay tethered to a machine delivering a platelet transfusion.

While both parents, and sometimes his grandparents, had been able to reassure him through previous chemotherapy treatments, this time only his father could be present.

Theirs is an experience shared by cancer patients across the country,as Covid-19 separates them from loved ones and family at their time of greatest need.

In the exact moment where we could have reached out for everything our support system could offer, Amy said, we were forced to retract completely into ourselves.

It was last June, a few weeks before Landens seventh birthday, that his grandmother Sandra Sapien noticed a swollen gland on his slender neck. The family had just moved from a nearby town and had not yet met their new doctors, so Amy took Landen to a walk-in clinic to rule out strep. The test was negative, but the doctor suggested following up with a pediatrician and asked if there was a family history of leukemia. No, Amy said, alarmed. None at all.

Days later, at an appointment with