OUT OF NOWHER
At her age, Kate Worth, 37, from Leicester, never expected a diagnosis like this… Bravebattle
With one small prick, a drop of blood oozed from my finger. ‘We’ll just get this tested,’ a nurse smiled.
It was December 2017, and I was due to donate blood at my local donation centre.
A few minutes later, though, I was turned down.
‘I’m afraid your iron levels are too low for you to donate today,’ the nurse frowned, suggesting I see my GP about it. It came as a surprise – I hadn’t been feeling unwell at all.
I was pretty tired, but being a single mum to three kids – Finley, 10, and twins Imogen and Austin, seven – it was to be expected.
A week later at my GP, a blood test revealed that I was anaemic.
Keen to find out why, he referred me to Leicester General Infirmary for an endoscopy.
‘You could have a stomach ulcer that’s bleeding internally,’ he suggested. ‘I don’t think it’s bowel cancer – you’re way too young to be worried about that.’
To be honest, bowel cancer had never even crossed my mind.
I didn’t have any of the symptoms – no stomach pain or blood in my poo.
Besides, I didn’t have a family history of it.
When the endoscopy on 18 February 2018 came back clear, I was then referred for a colonoscopy just to be sure.
And when I arrived on 8 March, still feeling perfectly normal and healthy, even the consultant was surprised to see me.
‘I’m usually only doing this for much older patients!’ he remarked.
After the procedure, though, his smile quickly faded.
‘We’ve found a nasty looking lesion on your bowel,’ he said. ‘It looks like it might be cancer.’
‘What?!’ I cried, breaking down into tears.
He went on to explain that he’d taken a biopsy, but as he spoke, all I could hear was white noise.
I was just anaemic, I thought.
How can I have bowel cancer? I’m only 36.
It was as if this all had just come out of nowhere.
The following week, I had a CT scan to see if the cancer had spread – but thankfully, it was contained to the outer lining of my bowel. The next step was surgery. ‘We’ll have to remove your entire colon,’ my surgeon explained. ‘But we’ll join it together as best we can so you’re not left with a stoma.’ My mind raced.
I can’t have a stoma, I thought, terrified at the prospect.
As I prepared for my operation, I tried to explain what was happening to the kids.
‘Mummy is poorly,’ I said. ‘My insides are not working
properly, but doctors are going to do their best to fix me.’
Then, on 22 April that year, I said a tearful goodbye to the kids as I left them with family, heading to hospital for my surgery.
As I was prepped, I kept thinking;
Am I going to die?
Over three hours, surgeons removed my bowel.
Waking up on the ward, I immediately reached down to feel if I’d been left with a stoma.
But there was nothing there – what a relief!
And thankfully, surgeons had managed to remove all of the tumour from my bowel.
Recovery was very difficult – everything I ate was coming out from both ends, and I was really struggling to cope.
Is this my life now? I thought. Desperate to see the kids, I was allowed home after three days.
Six weeks later, the results of my biopsy came back, confirming that I did have stage 2 bowel cancer.
Thankfully, it hadn’t spread to any other organs, but given my age, doctors wanted me to undergo chemotherapy just in case. As an oncologist talked me through the process, it felt as if I was signing myself up for six months of hell, but I knew I had to do it.
Drawing a diagram of the human body for the kids, I explained what was going to happen.
‘Mummy’s going to get special medicine,’ I told them.
I also gave them badges to wear from the charity Bowel Cancer UK, and we all promised to support them once I was better.
My first round of chemo was on 18 June, and the side effects started right away.
Running my hands under the tap, they felt so sensitive, as if they were covered in ice.
For months, I had to wear gloves whenever I went to get anything from the fridge.
But despite that, and being tired all the time, I decided to carry on working at my job as an account manager. ‘It’s better than staying at home doing nothing,’ I told myself.
By October, though, the chemo was taking its toll on my body, and I needed to have a blood transfusion.
I’d had six cycles by now, and doctors told me that it would be enough.
Ringing the bell in the cancer ward, I was elated.
‘You did it, Mum!’ Finley smiled.
It was such an incredible moment and I felt amazing.
I’ve since been told that I’m cancer free and have to have a scan once a year.
Thinking back, it still blows my mind. Apart from being anaemic and feeling a little run down, I had no symptoms, and yet, at just 36 years old, I’d developed an aggressive form of bowel cancer. You never know what’s around the corner, and it’s made me appreciate life more.
Now I’m passionate about raising awareness by sharing my story.
This September, I’m planning to cycle from London to Paris to raise as much money as I can for Bowel Cancer UK. I want people to be aware of the symptoms of bowel cancer – no matter how old they are.
After all, I’m proof that you’re never too young. Follow Kate’ journey at thebadbowelblog.wordpress.com, or to make a donation, go to www.justgiving.com and search for ‘Kate Worth’.
Cancer made me love my life