I had cancer. 

It still doesn't seem real, yet this wasn't a bad dream; itwas the very cold reality that I faced 18 months ago.

The type of cancer I was diagnosed with is a very rare andaggressive form that affects around one in a million people every year calledPseudomyxoma Peritonei (PMP). This kind of cancer is notoriously difficult todetect and people can live for years without a diagnosis. Sadly, some peopleare never diagnosed.

My journey of discovery didn’t start in the extreme waythat one might expect with such a serious condition, but with a few stomachaches and a bit of bloating. I ignored it for a while and then started to makeexcuses for why I was in pain…I have eaten too much bread…I think I amintolerant to something…I haven’t had enough water today. After a few weeks Iwent to my GP, hoping to be sent away with a prescription but I was referred toa gastroenterologist. When he couldn’t offer a diagnosis I was passed on toanother hospital and then a gynecologist. I underwent 2 CT scans, an MRI scan,3 ultrasound scans and countless blood tests. After 2 months of tests we wereback at the gastroenterologist and then, finally, I was given an appointmentwith a colorectal surgeon.

By this point I was completely fed up with not knowing whatwas wrong with me. I had pretty much ‘Googled’ myself into a state of hysteriabut, like most people, cancer was the last thing on my mind. I just figured Ihad some sort of food intolerance. So to say that my diagnosis came assomething of a shock was an understatement. I was 31, I regularly went to thegym, I ate healthily; I couldn’t possibly have cancer. I did.

Fortunately for me, an experienced doctor had seen a caselike mine before. He explained how serious the cancer was and told us that it probablystarted in my appendix. This was gutting to hear as 2 years previously I hadbeen admitted to hospital with suspected appendicitis. Mydoctor referred me to a specialist in Basingstoke and within 10 days I was atthe doors to the operating theatre saying goodbye to my husband, James.Honestly, I was unsure if I would ever see him again.

I spent nine and a half hours in theatre receivingcytoreductive surgery (also known as the ‘mother of all surgeries’) andintraoperative hyperthermic peritoneal chemotherapy (heated chemotherapydirectly into my abdomen). The tumor had spread to many organs and the surgeonsremoved my appendix, gall bladder, spleen, part of my stomach, part of mycolon, some of my diaphragm and, sadly, my ovaries and womb.

I spent 12 days in intensive care and was completelyimmobile. Due to the length of the incision (from my breast bone to my pubicbone) I had no core strength and needed help to sit up, stand and walk. Irequired physiotherapy and it took me months to recover physically. However, Ifound an inner strength and, with the help of my family and friends, I startedto rebuild my life. 

Three months after my operation, James and I met with myconsultant and he decided it would be best if I received six months ofchemotherapy – I understood why but I was devastated. My recovery was put onpause and, instead, I had to put all my energy into fighting the side effectsfrom having chemotherapy treatment every 2 weeks.

It’s fair to say that chemotherapy really pissed me off. Ideveloped mouth ulcers, was extremely sensitive to cold things, felt nauseas,completely lost the feeling in my fingers and toes (I still can’t feel anythingwith my fingertips) and I lost my hair.

After my final treatment, I left the hospital and didn’tlook back. 

James and I know that our lives will never be what we onceplanned. Not being able to have children is still very hard for us to come toterms with but we know that it was necessary to improve my chance of long-termsurvival. We take each day as it comes and are thankful for the life that weare given the chance to live, not taking anything for granted.

It is for this reason that my family, friends and I walked up Mount Snowdon in the Summer. This was not easy for me as I still struggle with physical and mental fatigue but I was determined to complete our challenge - and I did!!

We continue to raise awareness of rare cancers and to raisemoney for Pseudomyxoma Survivors. Any  money raised goes to a small charity that relies completely on donations and volunteers to help them to continue to support those affected by PMP.

Please share my story. Even if you do not donate, please help others to become aware. 

I survived cancer. Please help others to survive too.  

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