When Cancer Comes Home: The Unseen Reality of Family Caregivers

When a loved one is diagnosed with cancer, everything changes; not just for them, but for everyone around them. Having cared for both of my parents during their very different cancer journeys, I’ve come to understand that while medical teams focus (rightly) on treating the patient, the practical needs of carers often go unnoticed.

This blog is for those of you walking that path right now - whether you’re supporting a partner, parent, friend, or child - and for anyone who wants to understand what unpaid caregiving really involves.

Life Doesn't Pause - Even When Cancer Arrives

When my mum was first diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, I had just given birth to my second child. The very day my daughter was born, Mum began chemo.

Juggling midnight feeds with phone calls to hospitals, lifting prams and spirits in equal measure, became the new normal. Dad became Mum’s primary carer, suddenly responsible for cooking, medication schedules, and emotional support. He'd never cooked more than a boiled egg before - suddenly he was shopping for ingredients and attempting curries (which, to be fair, Mum loathed!).

We laughed about it. But behind that humour was exhaustion and stress that crept into every corner of our lives.

What Carers Actually Deal With (That No One Talks About)

Here’s what we don’t often say out loud but needs to be heard:

• There’s always paperwork. Forms, hospital letters, insurance details, transport bookings. And when you’re overwhelmed, it feels like climbing a mountain blindfolded.

• You become a logistics coordinator. Who’s driving to appointments? Who’s staying overnight at hospital? Who’s chasing test results? These tasks don’t show up in job descriptions but they define a carer’s day.

• Time isn’t yours anymore. You cancel plans, rearrange work, delay dentist appointments. Everything revolves around someone else’s needs and while that’s given freely, it comes at a cost.

• The financial impact is real. Many carers reduce working hours, or give up jobs altogether. You pay for petrol, parking, equipment, and sometimes care services. Very few people are prepared for this.

• You’re emotionally torn. You want to be strong, but you’re scared. You want to help, but don’t know how. You’re grieving before a loss even happens, and no one gives you time off for anticipatory grief.

  
  

When the Roles Reverse

Years later, we lost Dad to lung cancer. He had been the strong one; our family’s rock. His decline was swift, and Mum, still dealing with her own health problems, wanted to care for him, as he had for her. They didn't call it being a carer, they were husband and wife and naturally assumed that role.

Watching her struggle to support him while needing so much support herself was one of the hardest things I’ve witnessed.

My siblings and I stepped in - rotas, shifts, late-night phone calls. We were lucky to have each other, but many carers do this alone.

Things That Helped (And Things I Wish We’d Known Sooner)

• Respite care is essential, not indulgent. Even a few hours off makes a difference. Ask your local council, hospital, carers organisation or hospice what’s available. Many carers don’t realise they qualify for support.

• Say yes to help. When people offer, don’t brush it off. Be specific, 'Could you pick up some groceries?' 'Can you sit with Mum for an hour?' Most people want to help - they just need direction.

• Have the difficult conversations early. Talk about wills, power of attorney, future wishes. It’s hard and may not be needed for ages, but it is so much harder if left too late.

• Keep a central calendar or app. Coordinating care across family members (especially if some live far away) becomes 10x easier when everything is in one place.

• Join a carer support group. Online or in person. Talking to people who get it helps with the loneliness, the questions, the guilt.

  
  

Final Thoughts

Caregiving isn’t just an act of love, it’s a full-time job, often done without training, pay, or recognition. And while it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, it was also one of the most meaningful.

To every carer out there: you’re doing an incredible job, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. Take care of yourself, too.

And to everyone else: if you know someone caring for a loved one with cancer, show up. With food, with help, with kindness. Your support can make all the difference.

If you’ve been a carer or are currently supporting someone through cancer, I’d love to hear your story. What helped you? What do you wish others understood? Let’s keep this conversation going - because no one should walk this path alone.