Hello, Dear Reader! Welcome to our new Carer Mentor community members!I’m Victoria. You can read why I’m publishing Carer Mentor here: Who Started Carer Mentor and Why? This article was originally published on January 28, 2025. It’s updated February 2026.
When you have a moment, look around “iCARE Stack.” Since 2024, I’ve been building this hub of resources and a directory of publications.
iCARE Stack is this caregiver’s attempt at offering easy access to support when you have limited time and energy. For example, Caregiving Hacks and Tips is a rolling list of recommendations drawn from experience.
Why iCARE about Cancer.
Today’s article shares some of my lived experiences and offers a premise for why World Cancer Day is important to me.
The Past
I wonder if there’s someone who hasn’t been touched by cancer? When did it appear in your life?
One of my first experiences of its cruelty was with a good friend and work colleague. He was a charming, smiling man in his early thirties with a beautiful wife and babies. We were a tight-knit little band of workers from diverse backgrounds and ages, and he was close to everyone.
He mentored me in my new job and showed me the kind of leader I wanted to be at work and in life. He was known for calming conflicts with his diplomacy, being kind and patient, and having a quiet, humble intelligence that he offered freely.
I think it was July or August when he told us he had a back injury after picking up his son too quickly. Less than six months later, he died.
I knew death, funerals, and cremations. His passing was a wake-up call to the cruelty of cancer, its indiscriminate impact and speed.
Since then, other cancer diagnoses that have touched those close to me include Bladder, Endometrial, Ovarian, Lung, Prostate, Bowel, Colon, Stomach, Breast and Skin.
My father’s bladder cancer was diagnosed in 2016, destabilising what little calm had been established after the nightmare hospitalisation in 2015 and his diagnosis of vascular dementia.
A transection surgery of the bladder was scheduled. It’s not a straightforward procedure for someone with congestive heart failure, Arrhythmia and restricted movement in his joints due to rheumatoid arthritis—anaesthesia requires a very experienced hand.
When hands and fingers are gnarled, it’s hard to drink from a cup, adjust the catheter tubing, and get a nurse’s attention when the flush-out fluid bag is empty. It’s a bigger nightmare when the catheter isn’t positioned correctly.
In the hospital, I oscillated between adjusting bloody dressings and catheter tubes; caring for my Dad, to making myself bigger to politely but firmly request help.
Then, at home, highly tuned to his symptoms and needs, we had to decipher when to seek medical advice, to red flag an issue or prompt a reassessment of his medications.
That rollercoaster was fraught and fragile, one long day over years, punctuated by traumatic moments, clinging onto the only certainty that the sun would come up and go down.
Preparing for the unpredictable, shifting needs is challenging, especially if you try to do it alone. Thankfully, Mum and I had each other and a few caring friends and family members.
After Dad passed in January 2020, today’s journey feels calmer.
Today, we live between CTs, PETs, MRIs, and blood results1 enjoying peaceful, quiet days, having survived a hellish rollercoaster. We have greater predictability and certainty than before, and we relish this peace. But then, everything is relative!
January 2025
The funeral of one of those close friends on Friday, the 24th, 2025, destabilised me.
Dark grey drizzle and biting winds had me retreating into my coat and scarf—mummified armour.
High stormy winds caused havoc around our city. Roads were closed and littered with broken branches. Unstable roof structures and kerbside trees created precarious danger zones everywhere.
My car’s GPS couldn’t handle the road closures by police, and even Google Maps was having issues, wondering what I was doing.
Sometimes, even when you think you need additional guides (and you think you’re a terrible driver!), you need to trust your compass.
In this instance, I was unsure of everything. The crematorium was one of the few places I was familiar with, but the exact directions seemed elusive.
So, all this kept me painfully, mindfully attentive when I wanted to gloss and fly past the day. My speed notched up in line with my anxiety and adrenaline. The lack of precise directions slowed me to a crawl.
I wanted this day over and done with. The in-my-face reality of her passing was not something I wanted to face or talk about out loud, especially not with others.
Speed bumps jolted the car, forcing me to slow (my grief feelings) down even more.
Parked. Awkward. Stilted conversations. Defensive hugging of my mummified armour didn’t give me the comfort I needed.
The vicar asks us to remember her in silence.
I see her. Vividly.
Gleeful giggling, doing her little shimmy dance from one foot to another.
Delight-filled and excited.
Or hugging me tightly
She’s not my age in years but in spirit.
Or am I closer to her age in spirit these days?
We’ve been friends since I was in the single digits.
The decades of care and love she’s generously given to so many …beyond words.
Well-capped tears broke through. Freed.
Every pew had a white flurry of tissues, surrendering to the truth of her absence.
I managed to swallow back the howls…until I reached the safe confines of my car.
I’m glad I missed the horn when I punched the steering wheel hard.
“Cancer is such A SHIT!”
Punch! Howl! Double-punch. Howl!
I’m very familiar with grief-rage. It’s part of the fire that propels me forward.
Carer Mentor helps me metabolise that grief-rage into something I hope is meaningful and purposeful for you. You’re not alone.
It's time to put people and communities at the centre of Health Systems and Cancer Care. We're unique in our Needs, but United in our goals and message to give people a stronger voice;a more active role in their own health. Treat the person, not only the disease, so that everyone everywhere can get the care they need
Please press your heart ‘❤️’ to guide others here
Thank you, dear readers, for all your support.
A contrast CT scan is a computed tomography (CT) scan that uses a special dye to make certain parts of the body easier to see. The dye, called a contrast medium, is taken orally or injected into a vein
A PET scan, or positron emission tomography scan, is a painless imaging test that uses a small amount of radioactive material to create 3D pictures of the inside of your body. It's used to help diagnose and treat many conditions, including cancer, heart disease, and other abnormalities
Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) is a non-invasive medical imaging technique that uses radio waves and strong magnetic fields to create detailed pictures of the inside of the body
There’s probably not a life that is not affected by cancer today. I lost my uncle and my father to it and now my cousin is seriously sick with last stage of this bloody disease. I am so sick to live in a world so infested and wrecked by cancer. 💔😞
It’s a punch to the body and soul and maybe in time all that shone in the person’s life glows on in our hearts. For now, maybe rest. Sending love from London,
🤍⭐️✨