Our new figures show that not only have the numbers of carers increased by a third in the past five years but friends and family are spending around 17 hours a week looking after loved ones. Some carers are even spending 35 hours a week caring - the same as a full time job - and yet many won't have the pay packet to show for it.
Our new analysis shows that the average British family simply cannot afford to get cancer. Having the disease costs 4 in 5 patients an average of £570 per month. This is a combination of incurring extra costs such as travel to hospital or increased heating bills, as well as losing income if they are too ill to work.
My wife's expecting our first daughter in August this year, and I can't wait. I'm so excited about being a dad. But rewind just a few short years, and I could never have imagined this would be happening to me. Because my cancer surgeon had just uttered the words "the treatment will almost certainly leave you infertile".
There are certain realities you have to face when you have a cancer diagnosis. Life is never going to be quite the same again. Chemotherapy saps your strength and energy levels and the radiotherapy is sore long after you leave the unit, but worse than the treatment itself, for many women, is the hair loss.
I knew that I might not survive. The cancer was highly aggressive and the surgeries were very risky, carrying a 50% percent paralysis risk. At times I was tempted to focus on the injustice of it all. I'd done nothing to deserve this, but no cancer patient ever does. So, instead of staring hopelessly at the bleakness of my situation I determined to be positive...
Deep down, we know that we should be safe in the sun. I certainly knew it, but my husband Graham thought he was 'indestructible' and so he didn't wear sun cream. It's only now, as a widow after Graham was cruelly snatched away by skin cancer when he was just 43 years old, that I can't believe I didn't act differently and make him protect himself.
Ten years later, what are my reflections on my experience as a carer? First, I never saw myself as a carer. The word 'carer' implies forced responsibilities. I was simply and overwhelmingly John's girlfriend who only wanted the best for him. We had wonderful times together - cancer isn't all bad - and his illness only made us appreciate each other even more.
Jodie is 31 and lives in London, last October she was given the devastating news that she had breast cancer. A few weeks later she was told it had spread to her bones. She had to give up work almost immediately and suddenly found herself with barely enough money to live on. Jodie was advised by her nurse to apply for the Personal Independence Payment, the UK's main disability benefit, which would offer her some financial support. She applied in November, but seven months on and she is still waiting to find out if she is eligible. She is now at crisis point, struggling to pay for day-to-day expenses such as food and bills. This is unacceptable.
Let's face it, men are rubbish at talking seriously about their health. Other than sporadically airing my own health-related neuroses, my own previous form on serious cancer talk is questionable. Other than a mere cursory chat to a friend about his mother's breast cancer diagnosis, it's probably zero.