"Congratulations, I promise not to kill myself while you're away." That's what I said to my GP when she told me she was going on maternity leave. I then added: "Well, I can't promise but I'll try." It was definitely a unique way of saying congratulations and perhaps confirms why I don't work in the greeting cards industry.

She laughed, but not as much as she had laughed during a previous appointment when I told her that if I run out of money during my cancer treatment I could do OnlyFans. (Anyone who has seen my cancer-related videos on the Daily Express’s social media channels knows I'm definitely not a natural video star, but maybe people on OnlyFans are crying out for a cancer-ridden, overweight man with a big pink face.)

She laughed because, out of all the medical folk in my cancer journey, she has the best understanding of what my life is like with cancer.

Throughout my "cancer journey" she's understood why I'm happier now with incurable bowel cancer than I was before I was diagnosed.

But, like everyone, she also sees how I'd prefer to be happier without cancer and without the guilt of knowing that family and friends might be sad sometimes because I have this incurable disease that will eventually end up with me lying in a box.

Her maternity leave and me approaching my two-year anniversary of being diagnosed with bowel cancer has got me thinking: What can people do when their main outlet for cancer support is turned off?

In an ideal world everyone should have more than one outlet for support. I'm lucky to have a lot of family and friends who are getting me through this, but in the medical world it really fell to my GP.

And now, because my medical team at my so-called "world-leading" cancer hospital isn't fantastic, it will be something I tackle with my other GP.

Medical teams at cancer hospitals don't have to be 100% fantastic but I would like them to be more like my GPs. By this I mean they should treat cancer sufferers as people rather than patients. And they should be a source of support.

They should appreciate that, instead of being a list of blood test results, cancer patients have hopes and dreams as well as other health conditions that need to be taken into account. Cancer patients also have jobs and commitments so uncertainty about when appointments are happening doesn't help them.

Though, because they do love a blood test or two, the medical teams are still allowed to delight in the fact that, at the time of writing, my activated partial thromboplastin time is 23.9 seconds and be pleased that the level of potassium in my blood is 3.7 mmol/L.

These are both important stats to show how a person is coping with the effects of chemotherapy, and whether cancer is winning the battle.

But I'll bet my last orange KitKat that the information gleaned from blood tests isn't as important as the knowledge they could get if they asked the same question as my GPs have asked ever since I moved to their surgery just before lockdown began in 2020.

They ask: "How are you feeling?" My answer tells them how I'm doing emotionally and also physically. It's the kind of question that I want all cancer medical teams to ask patients at every consultation, so they can keep track of the impact the treatment is having on a patient's mental health.

And this is why it's a key ask in the Daily Express Cancer Care campaign. Just like GPs, cancer specialists aren't experts in mental health but they should be able to refer patients to services as and when needed.

And when referral isn't needed they should still be able to advise about good ways patients can look after their mental health. It's vital that all cancer patients get access to mental health support both during and after treatment. And this shouldn't be just something provided by GPs, oncologists must be doing it too.

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If you need a response immediately, it’s best to call them on the phone. You can reach them by calling 116 123, by emailing jo@samaritans.org or by visiting www.samaritans.org.