Stage Four Strong

I’ve been in the chair, too.

My journey didn’t start with a diagnosis; it started years earlier with a gut feeling that something was wrong. For nearly two decades, my concerns were sidelined as IBS. Even as a young adult in my early 30s reporting worsening pain and fatigue, the red flags were missed. Even after a failed blood donation due to anaemia, I was sent home by my GP with iron tablets and told to “come back in three months.”

But I knew my body. I pushed back, and in early 2023, the truth finally came out: Stage 4 Bowel Cancer.

The Rollercoaster

The months that followed were a blur of fertility preservation, port fittings, a new atrial fibrillation heart condition side effect, and aggressive chemotherapy. But the hardest part wasn’t just the treatment—it was the uncertainty. I navigated a healthcare system that, while life-saving, often felt like a maze of conflicting information.

At one point, I was told my cancer had spread further than originally thought and that surgery wasn’t an option. I was facing a “terminal” label at 34. But I refused to accept that as the final word. I sought further clarity, pushed for answers, and found a surgical team willing to take the risk.

My Support System

I didn’t walk this path alone. While I was fighting the physical battle, my family, my girlfriend and my friends were my absolute bedrock. They were the ones in the trenches with me—supporting me through every gruelling hour of chemo, navigating the confusing medical jargon, and keeping me grounded when the world felt like it was spinning out of control. Without their unwavering support, I’m not sure I would have had the strength to keep advocating for the care I knew I needed.

The Setback and the “Second Fight”

By the end of 2023, I’d had two major surgeries and was told I was disease-free. I thought the worst was behind me. But as any Stage 4 warrior knows, the “new normal” is rarely a straight line.

In early 2024, I returned to the chemo chair for what I thought were “mop-up” cycles. Then came the surprise hurdle: a scan revealed more tumors. It was a confusing, crushing blow. I had to pivot back into “warrior mode,” enduring more chemotherapy and another gruelling major surgery in late 2024.

Finding the “New Normal” in 2026

The three-month scan after that final surgery was the longest wait of my life. When the results came back showing No Evidence of Disease (NED), I could finally breathe.

Now, in early 2026, I have just cleared my one-year scan. I am still disease-free, but I carry the “scan anxiety” that comes with every appointment. I live with the knowledge that at any point, this journey could take another turn—my next scan is in six months, and that clock is always ticking in the back of my mind.

I’m here now because I pushed, I questioned, and I fought. Stage Four Strong is the resource I wish I had when I was sitting in those waiting rooms—a place for honesty, navigation, and proof that a diagnosis is not a destination. Life can continue after.