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Hannah Boswell

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Just after the turn of the new millennium, in the prime time that was supposed to be my mid-twenties, my Dad was suddenly diagnosed with cancer. The primary cancer was in the bowel with secondary tumours already all over his liver. The prognosis was poor - a few months to live and little chance of any treatment. He was 50, young and fit. I hadn’t even lost a grandparent let alone even contemplated the idea that my parents were not forever.

Jumping forwards, the truth of the matter is that my Dad wasn’t prepared to accept this prognosis and summoned all his strength to fight his cancer. He won that battle for 3 years, only in the last months of his life did the illness start to take over. He died on 26th May last year.

Thankfully, my family is a very close one and so we were able to talk openly about our feelings. We learned some of life’s most valuable lessons, lessons that sadly you only learn in such terrible times - that first and foremost you never get time back and that you should make the most of every moment you have in this world. The highlights of that period were my engagement in Prague with my parents present followed 6 months later by my wedding to my husband, Ben. This was without a doubt one of the most special days for my Dad and I.

However, despite such a positive approach and some very good times together as a family, I was faced with some difficult personal challenges in terms of coping with what was happening. These came to a head after my wedding in July 2002 when the bubble burst. I no longer had my big day to plan for. My Dad’s illness was advancing despite treatment. Work became difficult - I had a demanding job and too few people really understood the magnitude of what was happening outside of the office. I started to place unreasonable demands on my husband. Everything had to be perfect; my expectation levels were high, of myself and those close to me. To the outside world I was strong. However on the inside I became inflexible and couldn’t see the wood for the trees anymore. I felt I needed to protect my parents and try to do everything for them. I developed a fear of the future - how my Dad would die, what it would mean for my family and for me. Most of my fears surrounded how my Dad would be feeling about matters such as never being a grandfather. I think looking back that I was scared - not only about how my Dad felt about being ill and knowing he was going to die but also afraid of my life without him in it. For someone so loved, I became horribly insecure.

It was after this had been happening for some time that my husband suggested there were some issues I needed to talk to someone about - someone who was detached from the situation unlike him, someone who had experience of some of the fears I was experiencing. He found it painful to see my distress and also felt that the pressure was mounting on our relationship and we needed to keep it strong to cope with what life was throwing at us.

I spent some time researching possible solutions on the Internet. My GP recommended a bereavement counsellor as she felt some of my fears were akin to those experienced when you lose a close relative. It was then that I stumbled across the Cancer Counselling Trust. Lots of the other organisations I had looked at seemed more focussed on those unwell with cancer themselves. There was something about the way in which the CCT presented itself that made me feel I could approach them. I did and within a few weeks had started weekly sessions with a counsellor at their Islington offices.

What I learned most during that time was how to take me and my feelings into consideration. Nothing could change what was happening to my Dad but I did learn how to separate out the issues facing me and to try and make positive changes to those areas I had some control of. Not only this, I also had many discussions with my Dad about the future without him - discussions that I had thought would be beneficial to me but too difficult for him. I learnt that I had needs too - needs that I shouldn’t feel selfish about for needing to fulfil.

Eighteen months have passed since my Dad died. I still miss him terribly and will continue to miss him for the rest of my days. I have a picture of him on my desk and sometimes I stare deeply into it and wish I could just touch him for a moment. I think as a family we did quite a lot of grieving during the time of his illness and in the past year we have all started to move on. My Mum is carving a new life for herself. Ben and I are making long terms plans for the first time ever in our relationship. My younger brother was married this summer. We all miss Dad but his life, his illness or more especially his amazing attitude in facing and fighting it remain a tremendous influence in our lives.

I am grateful to the CCT for listening when times were tough. No matter how strong a person you are, no matter how close your family and friends - sometimes you need another dimension, another hand to reach out for. I still have times now when my sadness gets the better of me. I also have times when other things in life get me down - and I am still able to recall the discussions with CCT and try to remember how they helped me to regain perspective, to remember that I am not superwoman and that, most importantly, it’s ok not to be OK and to be needy sometimes.