One in two. That's a stark figure. And we all hope that we, or those we love, are not the one. It's not that we wish it on anyone else, it's just that we don't want it to be us. And then it happens.
My initial diagnosis came when I was 37. I had a four and a one-year-old and clearly remember saying to the consultant 'I can't be ill, I have two small children'. But it doesnt discriminate. I was devastated. Hundreds of questions flooding my brain - how could this happen to a healthy, active young mum with a great life and job? My chest constricted as the reality kept coming…. what about my children, my family, my friends, my work?
What I knew was to come was months of multiple surgeries, several rounds chemotherapy and
weeks of radiotherapy – each which I knew would bring physical side effects and which would mean that I couldn’t work normally. Everyone has a different diagnosis and treatment and feels differently about their work, but for me, I loved my job and loved what I was achieving. I’d worked hard for many years to lead an agenda which I believed in, in a company I enjoyed being part of. I didn’t want to step away or to be forced to let go. It felt massively unfair.
I found it really difficult to work through the muddle of what was going on in my head – fear of my diagnosis and of the treatments I was to go through, desperation to cling onto normal life and anger that this was happening to me and my family. It was hard to look forward with any optimism. With very little history of cancer in my family I didn’t know much about it. I now know how lucky I had been. Maggies helped me to think about what I needed from my colleagues so I was able to articulate this very clearly. I’m a no-drama, no-nonsense type of person so was finding it hard to deal with the myriad of stories of others with cancer and all the emotions which were unintentionally denting how strong I felt.
At work I worked on an email and tested this at Maggies before sending it to a small number of people at work to share what was happening and what they could do to help. Once that was known, I felt better and so did they. I was blessed to have an understanding manager and colleague who dealt with this is the best way they could have – by asking me how I felt and what I needed. They didn’t make assumptions, they didn’t overly dramatise the situation and they re-assured me that they would be there in whatever way I needed. And they were. This took away my fear that I would be ‘forgotten’, which might sound ridiculous given what I was facing but, for me, was important. And so off I went to channel my strength and energy into the treatments which would keep me alive for my precious children.
So what have I learned about how can you help your colleagues at this stage?
And to companies wondering how best to support their people to live and work with cancer …. very practically, support your line managers through sharing stories like mine and having some guidance for them. This is much less about policies and more about conversations, so help them to be better informed about what to do or say and help them to feel supported too.