Hi there, you've come to the right place. I was exactly where you are, in January 2024. Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 colorectal cancer - liver and lung mets. I felt like my whole world collapsed around me. I was angry that my Dad, always so fit and healthy, had to now suffer this. Alongside the initial rage there was extreme upset at the fact I was essentially powerless - his illness was terminal and all we could really do was try and make the rest of his life as pain free and comfortable as possible. Fear too, at what will become of Mum who has a severe mental illness and in no shape or form could ever manage after Dad's eventual passing. Frustration and jealousy towards others whose lives were simply..you know, normal. 

It has been such a rollercoaster of emotion - I quit my job as a teacher in the summer after Dad's diagnosis; I was already experiencing burnout even prior to receiving the news and so it made sense to take a step back, and also seek comfort in knowing I could be there for Dad and the family, and attend his appointments. I live close by and this of course made it a lot easier. Not all are so fortunate, and I spare thoughts and prayers for these families. Sometimes all the person needs is a chat over a cuppa, and a hug. We do what we can to support our loved ones - because when things are this far advanced, we know we can't rid them of this terrible disease.

I take each day at a time and it's so important to find your own inner peace amongst the agony of caring for someone with cancer. Try and maintain your hobbies. Eat well, exercise, meditate, etc - you cannot care for another person if you aren't caring for yourself. I cry every day - I'm all too aware of the prognosis, I know the day will come, but it is the little things that keep me going. Whether it's seeing Dad enjoy a piece of cake I've made him, or laughing at the cat - every moment is precious. What I've learnt is that we are humans, and we should never deny our feelings. Whilst each and every individual affected by cancer will be on their own unique journey, we don't have to navigate that journey ON our own.

This site is a lifeline - and puts things into perspective when we feel like we're drowning. Happy to chat anytime. XX

Hi there, you've come to the right place. I was exactly where you are, in January 2024. Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 colorectal cancer - liver and lung mets. I felt like my whole world collapsed around me. I was angry that my Dad, always so fit and healthy, had to now suffer this. Alongside the initial rage there was extreme upset at the fact I was essentially powerless - his illness was terminal and all we could really do was try and make the rest of his life as pain free and comfortable as possible. Fear too, at what will become of Mum who has a severe mental illness and in no shape or form could ever manage after Dad's eventual passing. Frustration and jealousy towards others whose lives were simply..you know, normal. 

It has been such a rollercoaster of emotion - I quit my job as a teacher in the summer after Dad's diagnosis; I was already experiencing burnout even prior to receiving the news and so it made sense to take a step back, and also seek comfort in knowing I could be there for Dad and the family, and attend his appointments. I live close by and this of course made it a lot easier. Not all are so fortunate, and I spare thoughts and prayers for these families. Sometimes all the person needs is a chat over a cuppa, and a hug. We do what we can to support our loved ones - because when things are this far advanced, we know we can't rid them of this terrible disease.

I take each day at a time and it's so important to find your own inner peace amongst the agony of caring for someone with cancer. Try and maintain your hobbies. Eat well, exercise, meditate, etc - you cannot care for another person if you aren't caring for yourself. I cry every day - I'm all too aware of the prognosis, I know the day will come, but it is the little things that keep me going. Whether it's seeing Dad enjoy a piece of cake I've made him, or laughing at the cat - every moment is precious. What I've learnt is that we are humans, and we should never deny our feelings. Whilst each and every individual affected by cancer will be on their own unique journey, we don't have to navigate that journey ON our own.

This site is a lifeline - and puts things into perspective when we feel like we're drowning. Happy to chat anytime. XX