07/09/2026
Navigating the seasons when you're living with a terminal illness can be a profound and emotional experience that many people and families face.
For me, summer is over. NOT SO FAST! I hear some of you say. Summer isnt over yetl! It all depends on which definition you use. Are you a meteorological or astronomical kinda person. I'm not here to debate that. I like neat little blocks. And I'm tired. SO VERY TIRED ha-ha So, for me, summer is over 😊
It isn't doom and gloom though. I welcome the change. I'm ready for it. Yes, there is still a little nostalgia for those long warm summer days, and that's completely normal, but autumn is my favourite season. I love nature's display of brilliant foliage, the smell of the rain and the crisp, clear air. I also love the back-to-school feeling I get when my daughter is someone else's problem for most of the week 😂
For some, however, there can be a sense of sadness or anxiety that comes with the seasonal shift. As seasons change, it can be common to experience a quiet grief for the periods of the year that you may not see again. I'm no different, and I'm left wondering if this will be my last autumn. Maybe you look a lot different to autumn last year due to declining physical health.
What I've noticed is that time has shifted from an abstract concept into something deeply tangible since my diagnosis. It's no longer measured in years, but by the changing of the seasons. Somewhere along the way my perspective changed from linear thinking to cyclical and, instead of looking forward to a distant future - which can be really painful - I prefer to focus on immediate anchors.
In 2023 I was given three months to live and so, my first goal became to live for three months. And then another three months... That's probably why I like to think of each season as being three distinct months. There's a milestone effect with each one becoming a major achievement. To me, having one more autumn represents a hugely tangible and deeply meaningful goal.
I have to focus on the present, and I choose to look at these transitions positively. That way I can reframe it around what lies ahead. There's an immediate beauty and comfort available to me right now. My summer is BUSY. I'm looking forward to the cosiness that comes with autumn. The shorter days and movie nights. The autumn blankets and seasonal events. Its a time to rest and recharge.
My daughter was four years old when I was diagnosed. Now, she's a beautiful eight-year-old girl starting Year 4. It's another huge milestone. I wasn't expected to see her make the transition from nursery to school and there's something... a sense of order and continuity to these feelings when my internal physical health feels altogether... unpredictable.
However you feel. Remember, you are allowed to take things at your own pace, whether that's one season, one month, one week, one day, one hour or even one moment at a time. Starting a new season can sometimes feel daunting, but you don’t have to do it alone.
Jim xx