My story

November 2024, I sat beside my mum in a small room in our local hospital, unexpectedly about to hear the words that I had Stage 4 bowel cancer. A couple of months earlier, I had undergone emergency surgery after a tumour caused a blockage in my bowel and left me extremely unwell. My symptoms had developed quickly - sporadic bouts of vomiting and severe stomach pain that became more frequent, until I could barely tolerate any solid food.

The surgery had gone well, and at the time we believed the cancer had spread only to a few lymph nodes. I would need six months of adjuvant chemotherapy- not something I was looking forward to, but a plan that felt reassuring. We hoped it would clear any remaining cancer cells so that I could move on. But that Tuesday, my world came crashing down when my oncologist told me a further scan had revealed the cancer had spread to my liver, across most segments - with possible spread elsewhere in my abdomen. It was inoperable, and the treatment would be palliative rather than curative. The prognosis was only a few years.

I have three young children, and at 38, you can imagine how devastating this news was for all of us. For the first few weeks, as I began an intense chemotherapy regime, I felt completely floored - physically from the side effects, and emotionally from the weight of the diagnosis. But a few weeks in, something shifted. An overwhelming peace began to replace my fear, and a quiet hope rose in me as I clung to the belief that somehow, light would break through the darkness.

I’ve had faith in God for a long time. I grew up in a Christian family, and somewhere along the way that faith became my own. Over the years, there have been moments that strengthened and anchored that faith - often during times of turmoil or questioning, when I found myself reaching for something bigger than me. This has undoubtedly been one of those seasons. I felt surrounded by a peace and a love big enough to carry me through whatever lay ahead. I still feel that way.

In the spring of this year, I went in for my first set of scans. Sitting in the waiting room, I prayed that something had changed - that I might even be considered operable. I walked into that appointment completely unaware that I was about to hear the words my heart had truly been longing for: my scans showed no active cancer cells. It was an absolute miracle, and even now as I type this, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.

I continued chemotherapy for another six months, finishing in September, and every three months I’ve had scans, all of them clear. And  November 19th 2025 ,I received the results of my first scans since coming off chemotherapy: clear again. A complete redemption of that terrible Tuesday in November 2024.

There is still a journey ahead, and my medical team are keeping a kind and watchful eye, Christmas 2025 I had a small recurrence in my liver- that was quickly dealt with via surgery. There’s now a journey of recovery, of faith, of caring for my body, and trusting that whatever the future holds, I am surrounded by a love and a peace that surpasses all understanding.

I am deeply grateful for the incredible care I’ve received over this past year, and I wanted to give something back- to help and stand with anyone affected by a cancer diagnosis. These prints are words and images of hope that I created during my chemo sessions as a way of anchoring my mind. I hope they bring a little light into your life, and that through them I can raise some support for the amazing work that Macmillan do.