In October, I will be jumping out of a plane to mark and celebrate 7 years since my diagnosis with chronic myeloid leukaemia, and to raise money for the Teenage Cancer Trust, who helped me during my time of need.

A bit about my story:

If you know me well, you'll know I'm always bumping into things or stumbling down/tripping up stairs. I am quite simply the definition of an accident waiting to happen.

At age 16 I was no different, some would argue worse, but at that time I had the excuse of playing sport. I either had aches and pains in my knees, muscle strains or legs covered in bruises, all attributed to football.

In April 2016 (two weeks before my GCSEs were due to start), I went into a tackle at school that led to me fracturing a bone in my leg. After a trip to the hospital and a X-ray that revealed a tibial plateau fracture, the doctors told me they wanted to operate, which meant I had to have some pre-op blood tests. 

Later on that evening, after I had been discharged with a full leg cast (ankle to hip), my Mom received a call and was told I needed to return to hospital as the pre-op tests had revealed some anomalies/inflammatory markers in my blood. At the time, my white blood cell count was extremely high, as a normal value ranges between 4,500-11,000, and I had around 140,000.

That same night the nurses took more blood so that further tests could be conducted and removed my leg cast due to blood clot concerns. The following morning a doctor came to inform both my Mom and Dad that I had leukaemia. It wasn’t until a few days later, after a bone marrow biopsy, that I was informed it was chronic myeloid leukaemia.

I couldn’t believe it was happening to me as I hadn’t experienced any of the symptoms associated with CML, but in a bizarre twist of fate, I was and still am thankful that I broke my leg that day as the cancer was detected when it was in the early stages. 

Everything happened quite fast after my diagnosis. I was transferred from Walsall to Wolverhampton where I was on an adult ward for a short while, which I found quite scary. I kept myself in my room but the staff were lovely and a Teenage Cancer Trust nurse brought an Xbox to my room to help keep me occupied. I was then sent to the TCT’s Young Person's Unit at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, to start my chemotherapy treatment. 

Despite being far from home, it was a huge relief to be on a young person’s ward. The unit made such a difference to me from the moment I walked in as they took control of everything and helped me understand what was happening, reassuring me that they were there to support me every step of the way. 

Things like having a kitchen, Xbox’s, activities run by the Youth Support Coordinator and being around nurses and other young people who really understood what it meant to have cancer as a teenager, helped me beyond words. Mom and Dad were both also able to stay overnight with me and there wasn’t a limit as to who could visit me, day or evening.

By the end of May 2016, I was allowed to go home, with weekly visits to the haematology clinic to monitor my blood and response to treatment. After a treatment change, I soon started to see undetectable results, which gave my consultant the assurance to increase the time between appointments. Visits went from bi-weekly to monthly and now remain at quarterly to check my blood count.

To this day, I’m still on treatment and besides hair loss, the side effects have been minimal. Other than the pandemic period, I’ve been able to live my life as any other young person my age would, recently graduating last year from university with a degree in business management and leadership. 

I can’t tell you how terrifying this time of my life was, especially knowing how hard my Nan, Great Nan, and Great Uncle had all fought when diagnosed with leukaemia themselves. Without the continual support of my family, friends and the amazing people at the Teenage Cancer Trust, I can honestly say without them I wouldn’t be here today.

That’s why I can’t think of a more deserving charity to jump out of a plane for (sorry Mom), all while raising some money.

Thank you in advance for your generosity!