In December 2017, I thought I had it all - 

A great partner, a lovely daughter, a wonderful supportive network of family, a nice house, a good income, and to top it off, I was 8 month's pregnant of a healthy boy. 

I was thoroughly enjoying life and was looking forward to maternity leave, spending some quality time with my daughter, and of course, the arrival of the new addition to the family. 

Unfortunately it was not meant to be, after having felt unwell for weeks, I felt worse and worse. It was a struggle to stay awake and to get through the day, to look after my daughter, and shopping for little baby clothes was completely out of the question. I felt I was living from midwife appointment to GP appointment, only to be given some tablets against heartburn.  

At 38 weeks, I was finally referred to our local hospital, where it soon became clear that they could not help me. I was transferred to a specialist centre, where it became clear that I was suffering from an extremely rare pregnancy related condition - Acute Fatty Liver of Pregnancy. Once stabilised enough, my son was born by an emergency C-section, under general anaesthesia. Our son had some initial struggles and was blue lightened to a children's hospital, I deteriorated and was placed on life support. 

I can honestly say, that this was the hardest time in my life, I have literally fought for my life and  knowing that my kids needed me, giving up was not an option. 

A few weeks later we were all at home and it was time for the entire family to recover, to enjoy our newborn son and brother, and to bond. 

My physical recovery however stayed behind, clearly nothing to worry about after all I had been through. I was seen regularly by liver specialist, nurse and GP's. I was told over and over not to worry, I was still recovering. 

Fast forward a year, and again I struggled to make it through the day, and ended up in the emergency department. Here it was discovered that my left lung had collapsed and masses could be seen on the scans and X-rays. The specialists spoke about the possibility of lymphoma and lung cancer, and informed me that the latter would only give me about 6 weeks to life. 

I could see my life falling apart once again, I could see the pain etched in the faces of my nearest and dearest, but I was determined not to fall apart. Biopsies and further scans were performed and eventually I was given the diagnosis of stage 4b Diffuse Large B-cell Lymphoma - the very best diagnosis  I could have wished for, a treatable cancer despite its stage. 

Full with trust, I started with 6 sessions of chemotherapy and immunotherapy. Of course, the first sessions were a breeze compared to my last sessions, I lost all my hair, several infections, and struggled to keep the weight on, but it was working - the tumours were shrinking. Unfortunately, the tumours were still there at the end of my therapy, albeit a lot smaller, and radiotherapy started. The side effects were horrific, and towards the end of the radiotherapy I was given the choice to stop. Stopping and quieting were not in my dictionary at the time, and I persevered. 

Treatment was over and I was looking forward to getting stronger, better, and to celebrating life. Covid hit and lockdown was spend, safely at home with my partner and two kids, finally we had time to be a family again and being at home meant we could focus on healing together.  Half a year later, I received excellent scan results that showed remission. 

Realising afterwards that  mental healthcare/support were absent of my treatment and recovery plan, I vowed to make a difference for everybody going through the same struggle. And there are daily struggles, I am only too familiar with them. But it's talking, the manipulation of  the brain, the diet, the gentle exercising, and the connection to nature, that slowly makes it better. You will never be the same person as you once were, you have developed and grown. 

You are not on this journey alone, I am here to help you navigate it!

Bibi X