It is that time of year again, January is over, the new year is in full swing, resolutions have been broken, everyone has been paid again following Christmas, and it finally starts to feel like winter might not last forever after all. Valentines Day is the next celebration on the list in a couple of days. For some it’ll be a big deal; It’s a time when shops are filled with red and pink love hearts, fluffy cushions and chocolate themed gifts, because nothing says I love you more than a box of Cadbury Milk Tray.
I find it odd that somehow as a society we have started to measure love by how much affection or generosity one shows another on a particular day, instead of perhaps showing love in more simple ways all the time. Why does it have be once a year? If you are single like me, then messages everywhere are saying that this day is only for certain people. There is a reason we’ve all heard of the M&S ‘Dine in for Two’ and not one.
I recently heard of another phrase coined Singles Awareness Day, so thought I would take a moment to blog about relationships and cancer. Over the years I have struggled a lot with the idea and feel like the future has been stolen from me, which is particularly problematic when in comes to relationships. Cancer is a catyclysmic event at any age, but if you haven’t settled down with someone it makes that idea seem beyond impossible. I didn’t meet my Mr Right at University and was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer shortly after graduating, which has made relationships non existent. I am now 30 years old, I still have single friends, but increasingly people are settling down and starting families, and days like Valentines Day make it more and more apparent I’m not at the same stage in life. Cupid hasn’t done right by me so far. I’m not desperately single or angry and bitter about it, but it would be nice to feel like a relationship could be possible one day. I would have liked the choice.
When I featured in the BBC documentary A Time To Live last year a clip of my interview was posted on the BBC News Facebook page. The clip showed my thoughts on dating and was subsequently viewed 1.2 million times. You should be able to view the clip here. I still stand by what I said back then, why would anyone want to take on someone with incurable cancer? Imagine falling for someone you know there isn’t a future with; I have some much baggage it wouldn’t be fair on the other person. I don’t like to think about my prognosis, my immunotherapy is working well, but I know ultimately the outlook isn’t good.
Dating feels like minefield at the best of times, so with a cancer diagnosis on top of the usual woes it becomes even more difficult to deal with. The thought of trying to go out and meet someone makes me feel physically sick. I don’t even go on nights out as it is! How do you tell a man you’ve only just met you have a terminal illness? It isn’t the chat someone brings to the table on a first encounter. Even with new friendships I worry about how much to tell others, should I tell them my cancer is terminal? Or that I can’t have children? Do I reference my scars before they notice? or do I casually mention I’ve already written a will and thought more about having a funeral than a wedding? All of these questions are extremely hard to think about in day to day life, I can’t imagine being in that situation with a potential male suitor. Even without cancer, I am not sure a person share everything about themselves so early on, but perhaps it’s easier to lay all your cards on the table from the start. I know it’s not a persons place to know about my situation, however cancer is such a huge part of my life, and that won’t ever change. I often wonder that as I’ve no control over my circumstances then maybe I shouldn’t be trying to keep people in the dark so much. I am not ashamed that I have cancer, but of course if there was one wish I could have in the whole world it’d be to change my diagnosis. I fear having the ‘I know, I don’t look unwell’ conversation with everyone I meet.
In reality, I can’t be the only person out there of my generation in this position and I often wonder how others have navigated through illness and dating. There is no one to tell you how to talk about cancer when you’re trying to form a new relationship or meet new people. I know my friends would say I should put myself out there to meet someone, as I know it is unlikely won’t happen if I don’t look out for it. It’s 2018, we are a generation where online dating is the new normal and I’ve been told I’d be a great candidate for First Dates, I’ve definitely got an interesting back story, but I wouldn’t want that to be my key selling point. How do you introduce yourself to someone and explain you are dying? I know I don’t have as much to offer as a healthy person with their whole life ahead of them. Would the suggestion be to find a man with similar odds to myself, maybe someone who has also experienced cancer in the hope that they will understand the situation more? Sounds a bit weird to me.
I am not sure if the right man is out there, I’ve never been good at meeting people, so how could that possibly improve with stage 4 cancer? Perhaps dating is a bit like going to job interviews, having to put on your best front with someone you don’t know and convince them you are what they’ve been looking for. A life limiting illness isn’t exactly a positive selling point. I think that cancer and dating are almost entirely incompatible, I don’t think I can I possibly factor my illness into future relationships. Often I don’t have much energy to see friends and family, let alone going out to meet a person I hardly know. Having cancer places a very severe burden on a potential partner, I know couldn’t put that on someone else. Last time I checked I was still playing a tug of war with cancer, most likely to die a slow, debilitating death with the odds are all stacked against me. It’s not the sort of message to write inside a Valentine’s Day card.
Rather than solely celebrating couples as such, I’m going to take this day to tell my family and friends around me that I love and appreciate them, because perhaps I don’t say it often enough.