5 things not to say to a cancer patient

Or at least not to this cancer patient...

I know that people mean well, and generally just don't know what to say, but there are a few phrases which I never want to hear again! Even knowing that they come from a good place, it can be difficult to focus on the intent and not the impact. So here's my quick guide to things not to say, and why.

1. "Any of us could die tomorrow too - I could be hit by a bus"

This is true - but you don't have to go through uncomfortable, painful, and even dangerous treatments to try an avoid being hit by a bus. And you don't have regular blood tests and appointments every few months to see what your likelihood of being hit by a bus is, and whether it's increased or decreased since your last appointment. There are things you can do to reduce the likelihood of being hit by a bus - not so much when dealing with incurable cancer. Not to mention, you might well not get hit by a bus - but short of anything even worse happening, my cancer means I'm very unlikely to survive another few years.

2. "Oh, my aunt/mother/sister/neighbour's daughter in law's niece died of that."

Thanks - I already know it's not curable, so telling me about people who died doesn't exactly make me feel better. And on a related note...

3. "You'll be fine, I'm sure. My aunt/mother/sister/neighbour's daughter-in-law had [a different cancer] and she's fine now!"

That's lovely - I'm pleased for her, I really am. But the thing is, cancer isn't a single disease; it's lots of different diseases which behave in similar ways and share a name. Some kinds are very treatable, especially if caught early. Other kinds are not, especially if discovered late once it's already spread. And there's a huge range of treatability and responses to treatment - not to mention whether there's curative treatment or only palliative...

4. "Just think positive"

I try, I really do, not least because my life is more enjoyable when I'm not mired in gloom and despair. But please allow me to be upset, anxious, angry, and scared too.

5. "Are you all better now?"

No - and I never will be. I'm better than I ever dared hope I'd be, especially at this stage. But I'm still living with cancer, taking medication twice daily to try and keep it at bay, taking other medication to keep my insides functioning properly since they've apparently been affected by the cancer and treatment that I've had. And I'm still living in hope and fear for every blood test and every appointment. There has not been a day in the past four years when I haven't been consciously aware of the cancer, even aside from the 10" scar down my abdomen and the tablets I take. I'm never going to get the all clear - my life is a waiting game until the day it comes back and we start the treatment rollercoaster again.

Beyond this, there are all the comments about what the person might have done to cause their cancer (you'd be amazed at the amount of cancer-patient-blaming which goes on!), and of course the inevitable 'have you tried...' suggestions. Yoga, kale, turmeric, or whatever magic potion someone is peddling are not going to cure cancer any time soon, unfortunately. If only it were that easy!

So what should you say instead? There isn't a perfect answer - but the key is to take your lead from the person. If they're talking about their fears, acknowledge that it's a scary situation without minimising it or brushing it off. If they're feeling sad or angry, let them be sad and angry. We often put a brave face on things - if we're being honest with you, it's because we're tired of being 'strong', 'postitive' and #inspirational. Noone expects anyone to say the magic phrase which makes it all better - no such phrase exists. The best you can do is to offer support and show you're listening.

Can you tell it's almost time for my next appointment? The cancer is weighing very heavily on my mind, and I'm exhausted. I've been carrying this heavy burden for four years, and can never put it down. My husband, daughters, parents, sister, friends all do their best to lighten the load, and I'm unspeakably grateful to and for them all. But this time of year is completely overshadowed by memories of four years ago, and the utter fear we had that I wouldn't make it to Christmas - and if I did, that it would be my last one.

This weekend as we put up the tree and decorate the house, I will try to look forward, try to focus on the light shining in the darkness (and indeed on the Light). And keep hoping that next week's news is good news.