Fighting For Our Happy Ever After
Amy and Jason won’t give up on a future together
When I met Jason back in 2008, he was a cheeky so-and-so. I was in the local pub with my mates when he came over.
‘Do you mind if I sit on your lap?’ he asked. ‘There’s nowhere else to sit.’
With that, he plonked himself down.
‘You’re a bit of all right!’ he told me.
Blond, with piercing blue eyes, he wasn’t bad himself.
Later, we shared a kiss, and we became an item soon after.
Jason was 20 – seven years younger than me – with an amazing sense of humour. Not a day went by without a laugh.
But in 2012, life suddenly turned serious when Jason found a lump on his right thigh. ‘Get it checked,’ I said. So we went to the GP, who put it down to an old injury.
When the lump grew painful, Jason had X-rays and blood tests, which were negative.
Finally, in January 2014, he was referred to the Nuffield Hospital in Oxford, for a biopsy.
We understood there was a chance it could be cancer. But Jason was healthy – he’d even climbed Kilimanjaro for charity – so we weren’t overly worried.
At the end of the month, we went back for the results.
‘You remember
I mentioned the possibility that the tumour is malignant?’ the doctor said. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, but it is.’
I broke down, but Jason was strong.
‘OK, what now?’ he asked.
The doctor said he had a rare cancer called synovial sarcoma, and needed surgery followed by radiotherapy and chemo.
Jason had the operation the following week. And, afterwards, he carried on working as a special-projects coordinator as he endured 35 rounds of radiotherapy.
In July, his spirits were good as he embarked on 96 hours of chemotherapy. Treatment hit him hard. He lost his hair and lots of weight, and it even gave him a heart defect. But he never lost his wonderful sense of humour.
At home alone, I was inconsolable. Seeing Jason in agony was unbearable.
Finally, in November, the chemo was finished.
‘Scans show no sign of cancer,’ the doctor smiled. ‘Go and get on with your life!’
Delighted, we arranged a Goodbye Cancer party at our local. Life felt so good.
But it was short-lived...
It’s spread
By the start of 2015, scans found nodules on Jason’s lungs. His cancer had spread.
He had an op to remove 15 tumours, eight cancerous. But, by summer, they were back. ‘It’s aggressive,’ doctors said. Jason had radiofrequency ablation (RFA), during which an electrode was passed into his back and heat passed through to try to kill the tumours.
Thankfully, this seemed to do the trick. By October 2015, Jason was tumour-free when we went on holiday to New York. Ice-skating at the Rockefeller Center, our song, Songbird by Eva Cassidy, suddenly came on.
Jason got down on one knee, asking, ‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes,’ I gulped, overwhelmed, as onlookers cheered.
Jason had planned it all. So sweet!
Back home, we set a date for this month at St Mary’s Church, Amersham, and Boxmoor Lodge Hotel.
By last April, though, the tumours on Jason’s lungs were back. He had more RFA, after which the oncologist gave us some advice.
‘You should bring
Jason was in good spirits as he started 96 hours of chemo
Treatment in the US would cost £50,000. We didn’t have it
the wedding forward,’ she said. ‘But…why?’ I stammered. ‘We just can’t say what’s going to happen,’ she told us.
Words can’t describe how I felt as I tried to rearrange things.
Two weeks before our big day, Jason was due to go to Brighton on his stag do.
But first, he had to collect his latest scan results from the Churchill Hospital.
The whole stag party waited on the coach as Jason went in. And, when he came out…
‘All clear!’ he said, beaming. So our wedding turned into a double celebration.
‘I’m thankful that I can give my wife the best present ever – a future together,’ Jason said in his speech. ‘Now we can have our happily ever after.’
I cried tears of happiness.
But then, again, this March…
‘I’m afraid it’s not good news,’ the oncologist began. ‘The cancer is back.’
This time, tumours on Jason’s lungs were too close to a major blood vessel for RFA.
‘All we can do is more chemo,’ the oncologist said.
‘But there must be something else?’ we begged. And that’s when she told us about a medical trial in Florida called stem cell immunology. It involves removing blood, stripping the cells out, then giving intense chemo and returning the blood.
So much money
Gruelling, it was our best hope. So, in April, we went on honeymoon to Aruba, then flew to Florida for initial tests.
Jason fitted the criteria. But, with flights, it would cost about £50,000. We didn’t have it.
Thankfully, we had the best friends and family, and, within days, Jason’s mate who’s a mechanic had raised £1,600 with a charity car wash.
There was a quiz night, a sponsored walk, a fete, a black-tie event, a boxing match, a rugby game, a London-to-oxford motorbike ride… You name it, friends and family did it!
Thanks to them, we’ve nearly raised our target, and Jason’s ready to head to Florida.
By the time you read this, he will have started treatment. So please keep everything crossed for us.
Jason’s spirits have never dropped and he’s as cheeky as ever.
I can’t say his name without having a big smile on his face.
All we can do is hope that this treatment works, and that there will be many more years of laughter to come.