A couple of weeks ago I sat with my oncologist discussing whether or not I needed anti depressants. I’m pretty sure I was ticking all the boxes on his trusty checklist. Weepy, tired, overwhelmed and feeling completely hopeless about the future not to mention laden down with guilt about every little thing that I was or wasn’t doing. He nodded sympathetically and said that if he’d had cancer and four kids to deal with on his own he’d need more than anti-depressants. Oh, how we laughed. I think I need to stop being surprised by how challenging life seems to be at the moment and try to accept things as they are-safe in the knowledge that nothing stays the same. Maybe I should stop resisting what is. I left his office that day already feeling lighter in mood. He’d sat back in his chair, given me his full attention and I came away feeling a little less mad and a little more understood. Maybe I wasn’t cracking up after all. ‘You’re doing great,’ Professor P said as he hugged me goodbye and I walked out of the oncology clinic that had been like a second home for nearly a year. Maybe I am. I’m alive and well and have a full head of hair again. The physical scars of cancer are healing, the emotional ones will settle in time, I’m sure.