The Truth About Depression

The truth about depression is that there is no one size fits all approach, it affects people in different ways; young or old, male or female, the experience differs for everyone. I have been experiencing depression in some form for a number of years and I can say with 100% certainty that cancer is the major reason why I feel the way I do.

As a society we tend to define happiness by some key factors; health, work, location and relationships. The idea is that if a person has all of these plates spinning at the same time, they will be content and happy, however if one falls that person becomes unbalanced.

I feel I live in a constant state of flux, only having stability in some areas means I’m loosing focus on what is good in my life, and small changes can feel like the icing on top of the cake, like all my spinning plates are crashing down and breaking into pieces all at once. On social media I keep reading the phrase “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”. Turns out I didn’t get any lemons, but instead got given a pile of shit, and what do I make with that…a shit sandwich?!?!

As a cancer patient I need options, and I need hope that things will get better, and living with terminal illness has meant I’ve been frequently deprived of these, halting my ability to try and move forward with my life. I feel I am frozen in time, like I’ve heard there is huge storm coming but there isn’t anywhere I can run and hide for shelter. I am not asking for the world, just some hope that my life will get easier. I don’t aspire to look like the Instagram influencers I’ve never met online, likewise I don’t want to be paid a lot of money to travel from country to country documenting my life. I only want a life to live in the first place. I just want to be happier, I don’t think that is asking a lot.

Depression isn’t about feeling down for a few hours when I wake up in the morning, It’s the constant cycle of highs and lows and it becomes more obvious when I start having more bad days than good ones. A lot of changes recently have made me feel I am going through a particularly dark stage and last week I burst into tears because the warning light came on in my car and I only had an MOT and service a couple of months ago. Out of the blue something small acts as a trigger and I fall apart over and over again, but each time I put myself back together I am missing another piece. Of course, it’s not really about the car, however it becomes another issue that has to be sorted out, another reason why I feel I am failing. Depression is one extreme to another, I’m either high with happiness or feel like I am falling down and no one will be able to catch me. I believe the voice in my head telling me negative thoughts and leaving me feeling hopeless for days at a time.

Some days are better – for a split second I feel that maybe, just maybe I will start to feel human again one day. Depression is serious and ugly and affects so many people from all backgrounds and walks of life, it doesn’t just disappear when you’ve had enough, but manifests over time. I am not going to wake up tomorrow morning and decide not to feel hopeless because that isn’t how it works.

I’ve read books where people have said they have a new appreciation for life since they were diagnosed with a serious illness, that the small things in life become more significant. I don’t jump out of bed every day grateful to be alive singing happy tunes at the top of my lungs, and no one else does it either! I am constantly told I’ve been lucky so far, so feel I should be eternally grateful. It goes without saying that of course I know it could be much worse, but I don’t see others celebrating in some special way just for being alive. I’d be fine with my lifestyle and accept the all things I can’t have if I felt I had some element of control, and could potentially live a long and healthy life. It’s not easy to believe everything will work itself out when I’ve been fighting fires for the last eight years.

Currently It’s not one particular thing that makes me emotional, it’s the whole process of being a terminally ill patient. It feels like everything and nothing at the same time. I am an outsider in a world full of insiders and It’s no coincidence that cancer has affected the way my life has panned out thus far, and I’ve failed because of it and I’m constantly trying to look for answers in a world where they don’t exist. It has changed every single aspect of my life and each day there are multiple reminders thrust in my face which only serve to highlight exactly why I am depressed. It could be seeing my scars in the mirror, using my Freedom Pass or Please Offer Me A Seat badge to travel, my constant blood tests, GP visits, the struggle it takes to get myself out of bed and go to work, and the antidepressants I take when I wake up each day. I have been having what I like to call ‘mini-breakdowns’ over the last 4 weeks so I feel an adjustment of my medication is needed.

I am now at an age where 85% of my peers are getting married, having children and buying houses. Cancer aside, when I was in my twenties I felt I had a lot of close friends and allies doing similar things to me, but now I am the odd one out. It doesn’t feel so bad being in a group, but nowadays It can feel isolating. It’s so difficult not to compare myself to other people when I’m surrounded by what I am missing out on every single day, and I feel like I am a failure in comparison.

I feel like the chance at a future has been taken away from me, which is a major issue when in comes to relationships. How do I find ‘The One’ when I feel there won’t ever be anyone for me? Nobody could take on the burden of my illness, I don’t want someone to care for me, just about me, I want someone that can help pick me up when I am down. Having not settled down with someone in my early 20s I can’t give a man the future they deserve because I believe I wouldn’t be enough, and quite frankly feel I don’t deserve it. In reality my life is far from the disney fairytales everyone seems to hope for. The thought will always in the back of my mind that If I take a turn for the worst, would someone want to be there with me side by side until the bitter end? Not exactly the opening line of a dating profile. What I do know is how precious life is. It is fragile and uncertain, I know what it’s like to be told that cancer is in multiple organs and what it’s like to spend hours attached to a chemotherapy drug pump fighting for my life. I can’t bring someone in to that life.

I’m not angry at friends for being settled and having children, but am I sad for myself I can’t do that? yes 100%. I am only human after all, and although I don’t blame anyone for my sorry excuse at adulting it is extremely hard and unsettling right now. However, I don’t think of other peoples problems as insignificant to mine; I know people have awful times too which I could never relate to, and they aren’t less valid because they don’t have stage 4 cancer.

Being upset doesn’t mean I don’t want to see people and their children. However I have to acknowledge it is a challenge because my options are non-existent in comparison. I feel like an outcast when I compare myself to others, and I often need to do some self preservation, but I know it’s not other people’s fault. It would be easier to try and blame someone, however my life a series of unique and entirely unfair circumstances that I cannot control. Right now I am emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted and feel I can only pick myself back up again so many times before I collapse into a heap on the floor.

Cancer has a lot to answer for and sometimes I feel worthless, as though I’m running around in circles trying to catch up with my friends; but we are not even in the same race! My path is going on a different route to that of my peers who all seem like they are running alongside each other. For years I’ve been held back because of my diagnosis, so I guess It no coincidence that I don’t fit in. I only want a fraction of what other people have, just some stability and options in life. I don’t feel like I am asking for much. It is unsettling and frightening standing in my shoes without options, like being given a series of multiple choice quiz questions with no answers to pick from. 

The Perks Of Pembrolizumab

Last week it was reported that two scientists behind groundbreaking Immunotherapy developments had won the annual Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine for their work on Immunotherapy.

This is big (and incredible) news within the cancer world! It got me thinking about all the positives which come alongside taking a newer, cleaner drug like Pembrolizumab. I’m continuing on treatment indefinitely which is hard to get my head around, but It’s safe to say I wouldn’t be alive without it! I just have to suck it up and keep on going.

Professor James Allison and Professor Tasuku Honjo discovered how to fight cancer using the body’s own immunise system, which eventually led to treatments for advance melanoma and has transformed the way it’s treated. My current Immunotherapy drug Pembrolizumab is now also being used to treat other cancers such as advanced lung cancer and Hodgkins Lymphoma. The drugs now offers hope to patients like me with previously untreatable cancer! Believe it or not the duos work began in the 1990s and is now starting to pay dividends!

You can read more about the award and the developments in the news section of the Cancer Research UK website, which also includes a few quotes from yours truly! Thanks CRUK!

I’m so happy that research in the area has been funded so far, but my case is one of many, some not as successful! Hopefully research will continue so scientists can fully understand why drugs work for some people and not others and how it can developed to become even more successful.

Ipilimumab (aka Yervoy), which I took a few years ago was one of the first drugs developed using the scientists discovery, with Pembrolizumab and Nivolumab following closely behind.

I started thinking about all the perks of taking this drug compared to some of my previous treatments. Going through endless cycles treatment is like crossing a battlefield every day. I need to keep thinking about the positive aspects to help keep a positive mindset, and it might help someone else too!

My hair and eyebrows have grown back since my treatment change, for me this is a huge success! I ask look well (partly thanks to the hair and eyebrows!) therefore not like your typical cancer patient; this does wonders for my mental health, but I know often people don’t always appreciate how unwell I am if they can’t see the evidence for themselves.

The side effects for me have been a lot less than on previous systemic treatments, including Vemurafenib which caused me many more problems such as frequent vomiting, skin rashes, bad stomach, headaches and joint pains to name a few. I will sometimes still experience these side effects, but to a much lesser degree than previously. My current main side effects are fatigue and vitiligo, and although these get me down frequently, (see my previous post Tired of Being Tired) I know I’ve come really far over the past two and a half years.

The infusion of the chemo itself is only 30 minutes, I know some people end up hooked up to machines for the best part of a working day receiving other types of chemotherapy. On a really really good day I might only be physically hooked up to a drip stand for a hour or so. Sure, that hour feels like an eternity, and there’s an awful lot of waiting around in between appointments etc, but it could be much worse. Today I had a really long day at the hospital, but I have to remind myself it’s all for the greater good!

Some weeks, when not seeing my consultant or one of my oncology team I only have to visit my hospital for the treatment in the afternoon, making the whole experience far less pain staking!

I’ve spent much less time as an inpatient on a hospital ward that with previous treatments. Three years ago it felt like I was constantly visiting my local A&E due to various side effects and having numerous blood transfusions, but so far so good with Pembrolizumab.

I hope that in the future this drug will be developed into a tablet, meaning a lot less visits to hospital for patients like me, considering how advanced chemotherapy treatments are becoming I would it’s not too much of a distant dream. Until then I just have to grit my teeth and keep going.

Loving The Skin We Are In

As I come to the end of relaxing few days away in Cyprus it’s dawned on me just how many people are dying for a tan, and will go to any lengths to get that sun kissed look all the holiday adverts suggest we should have. What happened to loving the skin we’re in and looking after it?

Last summer I wrote a post called Why Everybody Needs To Wear Suncream and for me these words will always ring true.

Wearing sunscreen on a daily basis is the best thing to do to keep skin looking youthful and healthy, but people do the exact opposite to get a tan, exposing it to the strong sunshine or tanning bed lights for hours on end. I know people who wouldn’t go out of the house without make-up and wouldn’t let their own children go out without sun cream on, however chose not to protect their own skin against UV radiation.

Sometimes It can upset me that people don’t take this seriously despite knowing about my Stage 4 diagnosis, particularly those who are close to me and have followed my journey. Strangers on sun loungers in Paphos can almost be forgiven, but part of me wishes I had a sign around my neck explaining why they should cover up. Something like, ‘Stage 4 skin cancer, spread to brain, lungs and bowel, dying to live, don’t die for a tan’. Might be a bit much though?

Our skin needs protecting just the same as the other organs in our body. We are all at risk no matter what climate we live in, but it’s certainly heightened when we holiday in sunnier climates. Just because someone has been wearing factor 20 or 30 all week doesn’t mean there skin is ‘used to’ the sun and they can then go without. By trying to tan quickly using a low factor SPF, people increase the risk of damaging skin long term.

My personal belief is that everyone should be wearing high factor protection. I didn’t get melanoma from direct sun exposure, and the desire for a tan, but for me wearing anything less than factor 50 would be stupid.

Over the course of the week I’ve seen so many people with bright red faces and bodies basking in the glory on the early October Mediterranean heat. Cyprus has been described as a year round destination, so I can see why people come here to get there summer sun fix, particularly before winter sets in. It’s painfully obviously that red skin is not a good look and doesn’t turn into a tan afterwards, it peels and flakes off and not to mention it’s painful too. I’m currently sitting on a sun lounger in the shade and can spot at least 5 people in my immediate vicinity with severe sunburn.

As someone who is fighting to stay alive I don’t understand why people see sun exposure and even getting a tan as so important. I’d rather been a pale Patsy than a red Ruth any day. But maybe it’s because I know how unpretty, heartbreaking and soul destroying a life with a serious cancer diagnosis really is.

A few years ago prior to my stage 4 diagnosis I watched a BBC documentary about people’s love of tanning with one of the signers from Girls Aloud called Nicola Roberts: The Truth About Tanning.

In the documentary, Nicola, a pale red head explore the culture of tanning amongst young women and men in the UK, and the extremes they will go to in order to obtain the perfect tan. She meets women whose love of tanning has become an addiction, using sun beds 5-6 times a week and someone who inject untested tanning-aid drugs bought online in the quest for the ultimate tanned body.

Even though I hadn’t had my stage 4 diagnosis at this point I remember crying to my mum whilst it was on television as It was far too close to home for me; one of the segments featured a mother who had a daughter who died from melanoma which had started as a result of frequent sun bed use. I cried as I told my mum that it could have been me that died from melanoma. Little did I know that my life would change forever as a result of the same disease shortly after.

Fake it, don’t bake it! Love the skin you’re in as the Oil of Olay (or Ulay) advert once suggested. You never know, protecting it might just save your life.

The Results Are In

I have now been sharing my story via my blog for almost two years, and luckily in that time have also remained stable on my latest Immunotherapy drug, having had my last major surgery in the summer of 2016.

This week is also very significant as it marks exactly 13 years since I was initially diagnosed with stage 1 malignant melanoma via a mole on my neck when I was only 18 years old. I have now been living as a stage 4 patient for almost 8 years. I was told back then I may not make 25 and now I’m 31, struggling sometimes but I keep picking myself up again. Cancer has been with me my whole adult life, which is something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept.

In some ways my stage 4 diagnosis seems like a lifetime ago, but in others not much had changed. Not long after I had started recovery from surgery to remove my brain tumour and lung tumour I moved to London ana went back to work. I’m still living with friends in the capital city and attempting to navigate the working world as best I can. Around three years ago I moved form South West to East London, so it almost feels like London is a new city, having discovered parts I would never have seen before.

I still get too caught up in the moments when I feel well and then book in too many activities, so last weekend I spent a lot of time relaxing and napping in preparation for the week ahead. I had a chest infection and needed antibiotics, which I think have since cleared everything up. I need to be on good form for the Northampton Half Marathon on Sunday to raise funds for The Lewis Foundation.

I had a PET CT Scan last week and travelled to Leicester to get the results yesterday. I am delighted to say my news was all very positive and takes the pressure off over the next few months.

However, no matter how many times I’ve heard positive news over the last two years there is always the fear my world will fall apart again at any moment. In some ways it feels like I’ve been given a golden ticket, but tomorrow I could find out it’s actually fake after all. I am of course relived, but the fear doesn’t disappear over night.

I’m now very used to the three weekly routine and cycle of my treatment, in way it has become staple part of my life up until this point. Travelling to and from the hospital gets me down, it’s mentally stressful and physically exhausting, but it’s nothing if it means I have a functioning life the rest of the time. I need to try and shift my attitude so that I am ‘living with’ cancer rather than all the negatively that plagues me about dying from it.

Here’s to LIVING!

Becoming An Adventurer

I am about half way through my holiday right now, so far I’ve visited Phuket and Chiang Mai in Thailand. I’ve created some wonderful memories, taking me well and truly out of my comfort zone, perhaps I am more of an adventurer than I thought!

The main reason for booking the holiday was to be a bridesmaid for my school friend in Phuket. In total there was a group of about 50 people who had travelled from England to watch the beautiful couple say ‘ I do’. It was so much fun spending time with friends and their families, as it wouldn’t happen ordinarily. Cancer has been very far from my mind, especially sipping coconut water from a real coconut at a beach bar overlooking the ocean! The venue and wedding itself were beautiful, it was an idillic setting, despite the delayed start due to a storm. I can’t wait to see all the photos.

Whilst in Phuket my friend and I took a day trip to Phi Phi, it was stunning however the weather was awful, making the boat journey very scary, however we made it there and back in one piece and lived to tell the tale. Whilst there we took a long boat out from the shore went snorkelling. Not one of my usual weekend activities and very much in my red zone of being scary and unsafe (not the fish, but the boat itself).

I’ve also eaten numerous times on my own, apart from day time cafe jaunts to write blog posts I would never have dreamt of going out to a restaurant for dinner alone whilst in London. ‘Table for one’ just doesn’t seem like the done thing, but when on holiday anything goes!

After my Phuket adventures I flew North and explored Chiang Mai for four days, I’ve found it to be a relaxed and friendly city, and I’ve been able to continue my down time. A few months ago I booked a trip to an Elephant Jungle Sanctuary which feels like a must when in Chiang Mai. As many people know I am not a really an animal person, so getting up close was an interesting experience. You can see form my Instagram photos that I’m pretending I’m not petrified!

Despite having a huge cold (mainly thanks to air conditioning) I’ve enjoyed the time alone; being able to wonder around and not worry about anyone else is a bonus. I’ve slowly been loosing my voice, I’m sure it’s down to a mixture of the cold and not speaking to people very often, I’m just glad it’s nothing more serious.

On paper this trip was one of the most scary things I’ve ever done, I thought spending so much time alone would be boring and was worried thoughts of cancer, dying abroad and my upcoming scan towards the end of the month would take over, not having anyone there to distract me. Two destinations down, and two to go! Perhaps I am becoming more adventurous? So far it’s been a success, I’ve been too busy exploring to think about cancer. All the negativity surrounding my illness is very far from my mind, I just hope it lasts when I get back home.

Independence Day

I write my latest blog post for America on July 4th, celebrating Independence Day with one of my oldest and closest friends. Unsurprisingly I’ve felt really happy and content during our trip so far, as I’m removed from the realities of my daily life. It’s exactly two years since I started taking Pembrolizumb after my second bowel surgery to remove a tumour from my small bowel.

Thanks to Pembrolizumab I’m celebrating another kind of Independence Day; one that is free from cancer and all the worries that come alongside it. I’m in full on vacation mode right now and it feels lovely to have a long break from work and get some headspace.

Ten years ago at the age of 21 I studied in America as part of my university degree and I made some incredible friends from all over the world along the way. I was lucky enough to be a bridesmaid for one of my closest friends in Maryland over the weekend. America and the people I met remain very special to me, and I feel very fortunate I’ve been able to return to the states over the last decade, even though there have been times when I felt it would never be possible again.

Looking back, I wish I’d gone travelling on my gap year, however nowadays I feel even more grateful that I was able to experience living in another country as a young 20 something.

Health insurance can mean the America ends up being one of the no-go places for cancer patients, particularly those who haven’t been given the all clear or are classed as in remission, however I managed to get a reasonable insurance cover policy through a company called Insurance With. They recognise Immunotherapy treatments alongside chemotherapy which has made the insurance process much easier.

I’ve been caught up with everything at home over the last few months; a new job, moving house, a charity trek and the never ending cycle of hospital appointments. So much so that I hadn’t realised I need to take some time out. Walking through a stunning National Park yesterday made me feel like I hadn’t a care in the world, I’ve been so relaxed in the beautiful setting in Maine I’d even forgotten what day it was. I’ve been spending time with my oldest friend who I only see around once a year, so it’s even more special. If you follow my social media you’ll see my various holiday photos.

Often I feel as though I’m living in the shadows of the life I had before, but not today. Despite tiredness and aches and pains from hiking up a beautiful mountain yesterday I’m ready for a new day. It seems crazy to think just over a week ago I was having Chemotherapy back home, my 34th cycle of Pembrolizumab. What a difference a few days can make! I have vivid memories of having this drug for the first time; I remember the smell of medicine and cleaning products on the ward and the long wait for treatment whilst sitting in a side room. I thought the wait was a one off before I understood how the drug is made at the hospital pharmacy.

Two years is a long time to constantly receive treatment, especially as I’d been on other treatments before, but I’ve been given another two years of a good life, so no complaints there.

Happy Independence Day!

I Can Hear The Bells

No, not wedding bells, but end of treatment bells! A few months ago a bell was installed in my local hospital’s chemotherpay suite. The tradition is that patients ring the bell when they have completed their final chemotherapy treatment, to signify moving on to the next chapter, and the end of a dificult journey, like some sort of graduation ceremony.

The words on the plaque next to the bell read:

Ring this bell
three times well
its toll to clearly say
my treatment’s done
the course is run
and I am on my way!

As this new initiative comes into play I have been hearing the bells more and more frequently on my hospital visits. The idea is that it is a celebration, onlookers cheer and clap to celebrate whilst a person rings the bell after their last round of treatment. Personally, I have found this particulary difficult during my more recent visits; having a stage four diagnosis, and no end date for treamtment means that i’ll be recieving immunotherapy for the rest of my life, so I won’t get that chance to ring the bell…ever!

Part of me understands the process and why it is important, however I’ll be the first to admit that I feel sad and also slightly angry that I don’t get to ring the bell, and can’t help but feel it’s a bit on an insensitive process for those who can’t. Not everyone will make it to the end of their treatment, or like me do not have an end date. If you’re in my shoes no treatment is a sign of impending death, as I cannot live without it.

I often think the ringing of the bell might be a bit premature, some patients may have to return for more treatment in the future, without having had a scan to check the drugs have done the job they were meant to. It seems to early to celebrate something that is so unpredictable, although I’m sure that being able to acknowledge the victory of reaching the end of a cycle is important and empowering to patients, but part of me will always feel it is unfair on those who aren’t able to celebrate in the same way.

I am sure that the bell ringing creates a feeling of positivity and hope for some, and marks the beginning of a new chapter. I can only imagine a life free of treatment and hospital appointments, and having something to symbolise the end of an awful ordeal. Maybe I am being overly negative or sensitive, but If someone rings the bell or not it doesn’t determine if they will go into remission or stay cancer free. Perhaps there are other ways patients can celebrate without it being so public?

I understand that there are now a number of bells in chemotherapy suites up and don’t the UK, and I am sure it is great for many patients and their families. However, I know I am not the only stage 4 patient in this position. No matter how hard I try to stay positive, I know I won’t get to the ring the bell, as I don’t have a future without cancer in my life. Yet again, I can add it to the long list of things I am missing out on.

Singles Awareness Day

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 pretty much 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 and 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 online 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 man in question. I don’t like to think about my prognosis, my immunotherapy is working well, but I know ultimately the outlook isn’t good and I’m on borrowed time.

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 shares 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…but I am actually really ill’ 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 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? 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. Or how about ‘Do you want to be with me until I deteriorate too much that we can’t cope?’

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.