Don't should yourself...

I've always been prone to 'shoulding' myself.

The term was apparently coined by pyschologist Clayton Barbeau. It means to put pressure on yourself to do, say or think things that you feel you should be doing.

My tendency in this area could be rooted in being the eldest of three kids, possibly reinforced by a sense of religious guilt/duty as I grew up. Who knows. Either way, to misquote Darth Vader, shoulding "is strong in this one."

Shoulding has been lurking in my adult life for years - whether in a sense of obligation at work, to family, friends or church - and has risen to the surface more prominently in recent weeks. For the early cycles of chemo my mind was occupied with playing side effect Whac-A-Mole, trying to work out what new physical sensation would pop up next and potentially irritate or lay me low. This was mentally as well as physically exhausting at times.

Five cycles (almost 12 weeks in) and things have calmed down a bit and feel in a decent rhythm. The spots I mentioned a few weeks ago haven't gone but seem to be largely under control thanks to my antibiotics, and the constipation I suffered for the first few cycles seems to have... passed. My sleep is generally better and, apart from a slump in the middle weekend of my chemo cycle, my energy levels are ok. The coming and going of my sense of taste - and how that impacts my appetite - probably remains the most disorienting thing.

The unplanned week off chemo I had just over a week ago due to my PICC line replacement was good. I ran three times (building up to a breathless 5km canal run in the sun) and we had a lovely wedding anniversary. I came out of the break feeling almost human again. Unsurprising, I guess, that my mood was a bit lower when my chemo re-started last week after this glimpse of freedom.

This morning I had to be at Burton Hospital at 9am for a new treatment to add to the ever-growing shopping list - a bone-strengthening injection. This monthly shot of Denosumab helps prevent fractures and other problems for people whose cancer has spread to their bones. I was initially told it would be injected in my backside so was quite relieved to have the needle in my stomach. I'm also now on a daily dose of calcium and Vitamin D in the form of what look and taste a bit like the old Refresher fizzy sweets.

I sat in the waiting room today with a man I'd met at my previous chemo appointment who has just started treatment for bowel cancer. As we chatted, he told me that, upon his recent diagnosis, he immediately had to stop the manual job he'd been doing outdoors for 40 years. We reflected on the absolute head-mash that this is. Going from a daily routine of working full-time, to suddenly flipping to a non-work life of being at the seemingly endless beck-and-call of hospital treatment and other medical appointments, is jarring. It feels like an about-turn in terms of life purpose, which, certainly for us middle-aged men, is a bit of a shock.

This, for me, is where the shoulding comes in. In my fortnightly chemo cycle there are probably, as mentioned above, 2-3 slump days where I'm not good for a lot. The rest of the time I'm either receiving chemo (for three days including using my pump at home), at oncology or other appointments (like today), or recovering from receiving chemo. There's also the diary upkeep with appointments regularly shifting. But that all still leaves quite a lot of time to sit and feel relatively normal - including pangs of guilt for not working or doing something more productive, beyond household stuff like shopping, cooking and ferrying the kids around. These pangs usually come to the surface when people enquire about how I'm filling my days. I never know what to say or where to start when asked this.

I'm not being critical of anyone else. I'm the one who puts this weight on myself to do more. My prognosis doesn't help: the pressure to make every second count because my lifespan may be more limited than I'd thought - this is totally unhelpful most of the time too. It just paralyses. So what, dear reader, is the answer?

I guess it's found in the opposite of shoulding myself. It's in allowing, resting, trusting, enjoying, healing and recovering. It's in recognising that I am seriously ill but also - when the opportunity arises - living as if I'm not, by enjoying the things I've always enjoyed (the sad death today of BBC newsreader George Alagiah nine years after his Stage 4 bowel cancer diagnosis is one inspiration in this regard). It's in laughing at Andy Bernard tying himself in knots in The American Office re-runs we watch again and again as we eat as a family. It's in shedding a tear at the photos of a pod of Orcas my friend has managed to snap at close range on the holiday of a lifetime in the Shetlands. It's in welling up with pride as Macy smilingly sings a cover of The Smiths' 'There Is A Light That Never Goes Out' at her final school performance (pictured above), or as Reuben picks up 'The Most Improved Player' award at his football presentation evening, or as Rosie walks in the house laden with presents from the kids she's inspired in her first year as a teacher....

It's also in accepting the unexpected gifts that having cancer throws up. The recipe packs, home-made food and cards that keep turning up at the door. The unguarded conversations. The insights into other people's precious lives, relationships and experiences. The hugs.

Pastor and theologian Paul Tillich said the key to finding life was to "simply to accept the fact that you are accepted". The opposite of shoulding is learning to love myself as I am, and have always, been loved. To accept this new, bewildering set of circumstances we find ourselves in. To embrace my weaknesses and my strengths. And to try to love others better, and with more kindness and patience, as a result.

I should go on, but there's no need...