Oswestry Cancer Buddies

17/10/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/16K5ZC36bN6/

13/10/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/1C1wx5htuZ/

I want to open up a conversation about something that I hear about so often in the cancer community, but something I don't think gets nearly enough attention.

The anxiety and depression that can follow us long after cancer treatment has ended.

Someone recently reached out to me who is two and a half years beyond treatment and still struggling tremendously with both. It got me thinking about how many others may be experiencing the same thing but keeping it to themselves.

We talk a lot about surviving cancer, but I wonder how often we truly acknowledge the emotional consequences of surviving it.

The way a diagnosis can change our sense of safety. The fear that doesn't necessarily disappear with clear scans. The exhaustion of trying to find our way back to a life that may never feel quite the same.

And sometimes, the depression that settles in when we realize that surviving something doesn't automatically mean we've recovered from everything it put us through.

I know from my own experience that the emotional recovery can be every bit as complicated as the physical recovery.

And I also know that comparing ourselves to other survivors can make things even harder. We see someone else returning to their routines, seemingly thriving, and wonder why we're still struggling.

But none of us experienced cancer in exactly the same way, and none of us will recover from it on the same timeline.

So I'd really like to hear from this community.

Have you experienced anxiety or depression during or after your cancer journey?

If you're several years beyond treatment, has it gotten easier with time, stayed relatively the same, or become more difficult?

And for those who feel comfortable sharing, have you found anything that has genuinely helped?

Whether you're newly diagnosed, undergoing treatment, living with cancer, or years into survivorship, your experience matters here.

There are no right or wrong answers, and no expectation that you should be feeling better simply because a certain amount of time has passed.

I hope we can have an open, compassionate conversation about this because I suspect there are far more people silently struggling than we realize.

And sometimes, just hearing someone else say, "Me too," can make an incredibly lonely experience feel a little less isolating.

Jessica's Healing Journey 💙

12/09/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/19BHfnFYi1/

Say it louder for those in the back! 📢

Can we stop putting “at least” in front of cancer?

There is no at least when someone hears the words, “You have cancer.”

There is no at least when part of your body is removed.

There is no at least when you watch your hair fall out, your body change, your energy disappear, and pieces of the person you used to be become harder to recognize.

There is no at least when you’re lying awake wondering if you’re going to survive.

And there is no at least when treatment ends but the fear doesn’t.

Cancer doesn’t have to be Stage IV to be terrifying.

You don’t have to be dying for it to change your life.

You don’t have to have the “worst” cancer story for your experience to be painful, traumatic, or worthy of compassion.

Sometimes people say “at least” because they’re trying to find something positive to say.

But sometimes the kindest thing you can say is simply:

“I’m sorry. This is hard. I’m here.”

Because there is no “at least” about cancer.

01/09/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/1DYEtnT5W9/

27/08/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/1LvjFFpT9J/

12/08/2026

Due to the extreme temperatures forecast for tomorrow, 13th, the Oswestry Cancer Buddies meeting will now not take place in the library.
Anyone who wishes is welcome to join us for a drink in Milanos cafe just after 2pm. Linda x

26/07/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17qKotCjYr/

The cancer journey before, during, and long after treatment, feels like climbing into a rollercoaster you never asked to ride, blindfolded and strapped in without warning.

Before treatment, it’s the slow, agonizing climb, the heavy clanking of fear, the tightening in your chest as each new test, each new appointment, pulls you higher into uncertainty. You don’t know how far the drop will be or how hard the fall will hit, you just know you’re being lifted into something you can’t escape.

During treatment, the blindfold stays on. You’re thrown into sharp turns that come out of nowhere, drops that steal your breath, and moments where the world tilts so violently you don’t recognize yourself. Your body becomes the cart, je**ed, rattled, pushed beyond anything you
imagined it could withstand. The noise is deafening: fear, pain, side effects, hope, exhaustion, all roaring in your ears at once. You hang on because you must, because the track doesn’t stop simply because you’re tired.

And then there’s life after treatment, the part everyone else assumes is the end of the ride. But survivors know the track keeps going. The coaster slows, but it never fully stills. There are aftershocks, sudden dips of anxiety, curves of PTSD, the quiet shakes of waiting for results, and the lingering dizziness of a body and mind still recovering from the impact. You’re still gripping the bar, trying to trust solid ground while the memory of every drop vibrates through you.

This journey isn’t something you control. You can’t see what’s coming. You can’t choose the pace. All you can do is hold on through every unseen turn, not because you chose this ride or know how to endure it, but because the track keeps moving and somehow, one breath at a time, so do you.

Jessica's Healing Journey 💙

19/07/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1FCRyxWS3W/

There is a difference between being alive and feeling safe.

I am alive.

My heart is beating.
My body is still here.
The scans have brought good news.
Treatment is behind me.
Life has continued moving forward.

But safety is something else entirely.

Safety is not wondering whether every new pain means the cancer has returned. It is not studying your body for changes or feeling your stomach drop when an appointment appears on the calendar. It is trusting that tomorrow is yours without feeling the need to bargain with it.

Before cancer, I never understood how deeply I believed I was safe.

I knew terrible things happened. I knew people became sick. I knew lives could change without warning. But there was still a quiet distance between those possibilities and me.

Cancer destroyed that distance.

It taught me that a life can split open in a single appointment. That a body can be carrying something dangerous while still getting children ready for school, folding laundry, laughing at dinner, and making plans for next summer.

It taught me that feeling fine does not always mean everything is fine.

So yes, I am alive.

And I am deeply grateful to be alive.

But gratitude does not erase the part of me that is still waiting for the next terrible sentence. It does not silence the fear that rises when something hurts or when my body feels unfamiliar. It does not rebuild the innocence I had before I learned how quickly everything could change.

There is grief in that too. Grief for the version of me who once moved through life without constantly preparing to lose it.

People sometimes see survival as the moment the danger ends.

But for many of us, survival is learning how to keep living after our sense of safety has been taken.

It is slowly teaching the nervous system that every ache is not an emergency. It is trying to believe good news without searching for the hidden warning inside it. It is making plans while knowing how fragile plans can be.

It is being alive while still learning how to feel safe inside that aliveness.

Maybe one day those two things will feel closer together.

Maybe one day being alive will not feel like something I have to continuously prove, protect, or prepare to lose.

But for now, I am learning to hold both truths.

I survived.

And some parts of me are still waiting to feel safe.

Jessica's Healing Journey 💙

25/06/2026

Meeting cancelled 25th June
Due to the extreme heat I have taken the decision to cancel today's meeting.
Stay safe, try and stay cool and hope to see everyone again in two weeks on July 9th where we will hopefully be back to normal!
Linda x
Ps 30 minutes after I made this decision the library decided to close at 1pm!

20/06/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/1K34ayxB7t/

Tonight has been one to remember! ✨

As finalists in two categories of the Shropshire Chamber Business Awards, we've been at the awards ceremony in Telford International Centre celebrating all the wonderful businesses and businesspeople working across the county.

Emilie, our Events and Marketing Coordinator, was nominated as 'Young Business Person' of the year, and Lingen Davies Cancer Support as a whole was nominated as the 'Best Place To Work'.

We’re delighted to say that we’re winners in the ‘Best Place To Work’ category! As a local charity, we are beyond proud of this achievement and of the fact that we were in the same category as some incredible Shropshire businesses.

We're also proud to have been the charity of the evening, with a variety of local businesses pledging to support us and our £5million Sunflower Appeal 🌻

Thank you everyone!