On 28 September 2020, I was diagnosed with Bowel cancer. An MRI and CT scan the same week followed to see if it had spread, and unfortunately it transpired that the cancer had gone on a little jolly to my liver. I was faced with Stage 4 Advanced bowel cancer in my low anterior colon with liver metastases and my outlook did not look good at all. 

Unfortunately, I joined a very exclusive private members club that no one wants to join, but I was determined not to let it beat me!

Fast forward to July 2022, and after 3 major surgeries (2 liver resections, where 60% of my liver was removed twice, 1 laparoscopic bowel surgery to remove half my bowel, 6 months of chemotherapy and 12 rounds in total, with endless blood tests, countless MRI/CT/PET scans, a week in ICU following complications with my bowel surgery recovery), yesterday I had a scan on my liver and my chest, with a colonoscopy last month and I’m delighted to
report that they have found No Evidence of Disease, which is the first time in 22 months I can say that. GET IN!!!!!

Why am I telling you this? This isn’t for sympathy, but because I am one of 2,500 every year under 40 who are diagnosed with bowel cancer, and I believe not enough of us are aware of the symptoms bowel cancer has and like me, completely unaware, was living with bowel cancer for a couple of years. Only this week Deborah James has passed away very gracefully, and she has flown the flag for us all to check for symptoms, and more importantly, to check our
poo. I wish I had done that sooner myself.

The last couple of years have been absolutely horrific, and
I can honestly say I don’t think I would still be here if it wasn’t for my incredible wife, Hannah. We will all undoubtedly have all come into contact with someone with cancer, or indeed have someone in the family that has died of cancer, but if you’re anything like me and thought you were indestructible, until you have it or have someone close to you that has to have been through this terrible illness, you do not realise quite how disgraceful it really is.

There were times where I have literally had to drag myself
out of bed, to be picked up off the floor, to just function ‘normally’, and the incredible strength, grace, and love Hannah showed me during these last 22 months in helping to save my life is nothing short of remarkable. To have held herself together when at times she would have had to witness me in a very dark place but still went about life with a smile on her face even when I knew she was hurting inside, is something I will never, ever forget. We all need someone
like her in our lives, and I’m indebted to her with the strength she has shown. If it’s possible, I love her even more because of it.

Anyway, enough of that. As a token of my appreciation to my incredible bowel surgeon, my liver surgeon (who is an absolute legend), my oncologist, my oncology nurse and all the other nurses at Spire hospital in Reading, plus to thank the family and friends who have been there to support me with kind words, gifts, messages of encouragement and too many incredible things to mention, I am
cycling alongside my Dad, from London to Brighton in support of Bowel Cancer UK on 11 September this year. My Dad, by the way, was my ‘chemotherapy taxi’, and I know it hurt him every time he had to see me so ill every week he needed to take me to hospital. No parent should be taking their son to hospital to attempt to save / prolong one’s life. This ride is for him and my Mum too, as I know
this past 2 years have been extremely tough for them.

It would be great if you could spare any donation you can to
support what I think is a very important cause, so please do also like and share this post if you can, as I would really like to give as much back to this charity as I possibly can. If you fancy joining me, please let me know too, or come along and watch from Clapham at the start, and finishing on the sea front in Brighton.