I will never forget the moment my life changed. I was simply out walking, doing something so ordinary, when I learned that my skin cancer had metastasised to my pancreas – I was now that dreaded Stage 4. The words were heavy, almost impossible to process, but I carried on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to steady myself against the shock. Cancer was no longer just on my skin — it had invaded deep within me.
After diagnosis with Stage 3, I was assigned to an Oncologist, Professor Ruth Board. When we met, we discussed what had happened and how the cancer had spread.
The original pathway suggested by the team after surgery to remove my lymph nodes was to “wait and see”.
After several sleepless nights, I decided that I wanted the team to scan my body for anything unusual. It was the scan in the fourth year that has quite literally saved my life. It showed the tumour in my pancreas.
What followed the scan results was almost immediate surgery that took away my pancreas and spleen in a 14-hour operation, along with a piece of the life I once knew. Recovery was tough — days blurred into nights filled with weakness, uncertainty, and questions I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask. Immunotherapy for 12 months soon followed, becoming both my anchor and my test, a treatment that both drained and sustained me.
The spleen and pancreas – mostly removed
Through it all, my resilience was tested, but it never broke. Part of that strength came from the people around me, but also from a loyal companion who never left my side — my border terrier, Norman. With his steady paws and gentle eyes, Norman reminded me daily of the beauty of simple things: fresh air, a wagging tail, the comfort of a quiet walk. He didn’t know the medical terms or the prognosis, but he knew how to sit close when I needed comfort most. By now, Norman was about 13, and his age was slowing him – he never faltered or shirked from being a loyal friend. It’s surprising how many people do when a diagnosis like this becomes their life.
I also owe so much to the incredible medical team who have walked this road with me. The knowledge, skill, and compassion of specialists like Asma Sultana have given me something priceless — more time. Their expertise has carried me through surgery, treatment, and the darkest moments, and their dedication reminds me that I’m not fighting this battle alone.
Stage four melanoma has not beaten me — it has reshaped me. Every scar tells a story of survival, and every hospital visit is a reminder of how fragile and precious life is. As I keep walking, often with Norman trotting happily by my side, I carry with me not only the weight of my journey but also the strength and resilience to face whatever comes next.
The moral behind this blog is “never be afraid to question your team on the choice of pathways”. Pathways are there as a signpost for commonly used protocols.
Bring it on!
