At the weekend, I settled down with my family to watch a new Paddington Bear adventure, ‘Paddington in Peru’.

I always look forward to family movie night and, if you were to ask me what the single most important thing in my life is, I would tell you that it’s my family; the people who make every day better just by being there.

In truth, my family has taken on even more significance to me since I was diagnosed with stage 4 oesophageal cancer in July 2023 and, when I say that I feel incredibly fortunate that I can still enjoy moments like this with the people I love, it’s for good reason: Most patients only live for a few months with my cancer type.

To put this into context, as it happens, filming for the new movie commenced the same month I was told I was going to die and would end three months later (in October 2023) – my oncologist didn’t expect me to still be alive (not that we’ve ever discussed Paddington Bear). And yet, here we are, almost two years on from that devastating diagnosis. I might have fallen asleep during the movie (as is so often the case these days), but it’s still another precious memory I’ve been able to make and I was at least awake long enough to hear Aunt Lucy (a character in the movie, I don’t have an Aunt Lucy) say:

“When skies are grey, hope is the way.”

It’s a popular idiom that you may have heard before (I don’t recall hearing it, but then memory recall isn’t exactly my strong suit these days). Still, it did get me thinking about hope and how important hope has been to me on my cancer journey. Certainly, I don’t believe that I could have maintained such a positive attitude without it because coping with cancer (and indeed, cancer treatment, see my post on surviving chemotherapy) is difficult, to say the least, but you must never lose hope.

Hope is the thing to which I’ve always anchored every other thing to and I can’t say how important it has been to me in my fight to stay alive. In fact, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m in the fight of my life (incidentally, some people prefer not to think of cancer as a fight, or a battle, and if that’s you I commènd you).

When I received my own terminal prognosis, it was… Words feel really insignificant here. I felt so hopeless and I just wanted someone to tell me that everything was going to be OK. Of course, I knew that it wasn’t going to happen. The most the doctor was prepared to give me was a year and so, like countless others before me, I turned to the one place I knew could restore my hope. The internet.

Against all odds

In nature, spring is said to mirror the human hope of defying impossible odds and represents the persistence of life (photo by Saira Gorringe)

The internet is full of vast amounts of information and provides us instant access to virtually everything every person with cancer could ever have wanted to know. For me, this was the small matter of keeping myself alive – What I didn’t know then was just how rare it is for someone to survive my cancer type (according to NHS England, there are no 5 year survival statistics for stage 4).

What I found certainly gave me hope, but I should point out now that it’s important to differentiate between hope and false hope, which can lead to disappointment. In my last post, I told you that I was of the opinion that many of these pseudo-holistic websites claim to be based on logic and evidence but, in reality, either lack a basic understanding of that evidence, or outright reject anything which contradicts (doesn’t support) their belief. Sure, they always sound convincing, but don’t mistake buzz-words and cherry-picked information for ‘meaningful’ evidence.

I know what it can feel like to be in a place so vulnerable that you’ll do just about anything, even something you might never have imagined (there was a time when I would’ve hooked a car battery up to my nipples if I thought there was a chance it could cure cancer) but, hope isn’t based on unrealistic expectations. While false hope is easily misplaced, hope should give you the confidence that something positive can happen. Of course, there will be some of you reading this who might be wondering what you have to be hopeful for. If that’s you, then it could be helpful to adjust your expectations to match your outlook because, to be clear, hope always acknowledges the realities of the situation.

I’ll be the first to admit that, when you’re living with cancer, maintaining a positive attitude can be really hard. I should say here that it isn’t possible to stay upbeat all of the time, but I’ve found that setting smaller (realistic) goals has been helpful. When I was told that I might have as little as three months to live, that became my first goal, and I hoped that chemo was going to get me there. I hadn’t beaten cancer, but I remember the feeling of satisfaction when I made it because, make no mistake, this was my first success, and I did this every three months until I’d been alive longer than my oncologist told me I could.

This way, I’m not pretending that this isn’t happening (it is) or that the odds aren’t stacked against me in every possible way (they are) and yet, over this time (I don’t believe there is a quick fix), I’ve been able to develop a sense of resilience to these things and, instead of living with the demoralising feelings of despair that often comes with unexpected negative outcomes, each small success has arguably:

• helped me overcome the next setback and cope better with my disease.
• improved my prognosis and given me a better quality of life.

Two years ago, I would have told you that I won’t survive my cancer. Now, I’m not so sure. Hope has taught me that the future is unknown. Cancer, by its very nature, is unpredictable and so, why can’t I be that person who, against all odds, survives in the face of adversity.

I am not emused

Alternative therapies range from plant-based diets and coffee enemas to emu oil and drinking your own urine!

Like many others who have been told that their cancer can not be cured, I spent a lot of time researching these alternative ‘cures’. It was only later that it occurred to me just how vulnerable I was at the start of my journey because my life changed so quickly, almost overnight, and it felt like I was thrust into a world of scans, hospital wards, blood tests, doctors, and chemo… It was a scary time; a time when feelings of fear, anger, and loneliness were common (I may no longer be afraid of my cancer but let’s be really clear here and say that living with cancer is all these things, and more).

The way that I chose to deal with it though, was with an open mind… and a heavy dose of scepticism. This means looking at everything that’s available (data, anecdotal evidence, scientific research… ) and coming to your own conclusions. Indeed, I’ve made a point to learn all that I can about my cancer and its treatment, but also, alternatives and natural healing because, in doing so, I’ve been able to take control of my life, as well as my health.. and, if I can, then you can too.

I’d love to believe that shark cartilage is an effective cancer treatment, if for no other reason than I love sharks which, actually, would make about as much sense – shark cartilage therapy is based on the theory that sharks don’t get cancer (they do). That’s one of the main problems with a lot of these therapies, they can often be based on outdated theories that have since been disproven (now might be a good opportunity to say that I’ve never forgiven Steven Spielberg for that film he made… E.T., what a terrible movie that was haha).

If I am going to beat this terrible disease, and it’s a bif IF, it’s going to be because of rational thinking and reason, not because I found a quick beat-cancer method. It’s going to be because of a combination of so many different factors: healthy diet and lifestyle choices, medical-based treatment, a positive outlook… and a lot of realistic hope. For me, it’s vital to develop a deep understanding of, and appreciation for, all of these things because it occurs to me now that my journey into cancer hasnt been down a single path. It’s more like a big sprawling mess (believe me, fitting that into neat 7-minute posts isnt always easy) but, as much as I might want there to be, I haven’t found a handy one-size-fits-all plan for living with cancer… and my life is probably the better without it.