Me, Myself and Cancer

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Me, Myself and Cancer I was 42, a husband and a father, when I was told I had advanced cancer that couldnt be cured. I've even released my own children’s book 🚀

That was nearly 4 years ago, and I've dedicated that time to helping others like me face their own diagnosis.

We decided to come away for a few days because, truthfully, it had been a tough week. Mostly pain from my stents, but al...
10/10/2026

We decided to come away for a few days because, truthfully, it had been a tough week. Mostly pain from my stents, but also I'm coming off Duloxetine, which is causing some pretty intense withdrawal effects, and I had my scan on Thursday to see if my cancer has spread to my kidneys so there's some scanxiety there, too.

Still, you can't beat the feeling of reading your new book in a hot tub 😆

Beaides, I always say that life is for living (so live it), and I do like to treat myself, especially around my birthday. Plus, hot tubs are so good for pain, oh and did I mention that I'm worth it 😁 I had a great birthday, that's four now they told me I wouldn't have, and I've had an unbelievable response to my book so thank you to everyone who's bought it so far. I'm so proud of it, and I'm really happy right now. The best thing has been reading it to my daughter at bedtime 😍

If you haven't ordered a copy yet you can do so here

https://amzn.eu/d/0c5ESock

🚀

Jim xx

Three and a half years ago doctors told me not to expect to live to see my 43rd birthday. Today, I'm celebrating my 46th...
08/10/2026

Three and a half years ago doctors told me not to expect to live to see my 43rd birthday. Today, I'm celebrating my 46th birthday! Not only that, but I've released my first children's book: 'Beyond The Stars'.

Honestly, I'm so proud of this book - and the fact that I'm still alive isn't bad either. Perhaps understandably, my emotions have been a bit all over the place today, but hey, I'm in the top 10,512 books on Amazon 😂 Considering there's between 30 and 40 million books on there mind, that's not bad 😁

It's not important to me how well it sells. Obviously I'd like it to do well, but nothing will beat the feeling of reading it to my daughter last night at bedtime 🥰 She loves it - and that's all that really matters. There's no better feeling in the world than being a dad and it's part of the legacy I'm leaving behind for her.

This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, but there always seemed to be a reason (excuse) not to do it. When you have a time-limiting disease like cancer, though, it's time to stop making excuses.

Global distribution (outside of Amazon) is taking a little longer than anticipated, partly my fault 🙈 but soon it will be available from other retailers, libraries and major online stores around the world. Hopefully, some bookstores, too 😊

So, have you ordered your copy yet? 🚀

You can help by sharing the link, leaving a review or dropping me a message or photo. It's £7.99 (paperback) or £5.99 (kindle) and is suitable for all ages really, but aimed at 0-8.

Anyway, thank you for all your love and support over these past three and a half years. I truly appreciate it ❤️

https://amzn.eu/d/0c5ESock

Hi all. Yesterday was a double celebration - of sorts. I had my oncology appointment, and my latest scan looks okay. Uns...
02/10/2026

Hi all. Yesterday was a double celebration - of sorts. I had my oncology appointment, and my latest scan looks okay. Unsurprisingly, the radiographer hadn’t done the report - it’s meant to be complete in ten days (the reality is usually closer to four weeks) - but my oncologist couldn’t see anything that “jumped out,” and unless the radiographer highlights anything to the contrary, I can consider my disease to be behaving itself.

I would’ve liked a little more information because the tumours had shrunk by fifty percent when I had my last scan (without active treatment), but no progression is always good news when you’re living with a life-limiting cancer like mine.

In other (semi) good news, I also saw a copy of my very first children’s book, ‘Beyond The Stars’. This is very exciting, or at least it would be if there weren’t a few quality issues, printing defects, the odd page missing… nothing they can’t be sued for, ha-ha. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and probably not something I would’ve ever done if I didn’t have a terminal illness, so I can’t wait for it to be out in the world.

It was scheduled to be released next Thursday (8 October - also my birthday), but it might get pushed back a week now. You’ll be able to buy it from all the good online book retailers, and it will be priced at £7.99, so be sure to pick up your copy soon. (If it sells well, it might even make it onto physical shop shelves, but this is notoriously hard for independent authors.)

Outside of that, it’s been a tough week since I had my kidney stents changed. The pain on some days has been unbearable, and I was nearly in tears on Monday. It’s also made it hard to sleep, so I’ve been especially tired. I’ve definitely turned the corner now, though, and I’ve been a bit more comfortable the past 24 hours. I also spoke to my oncologist about having metal stents fitted - which need changing less often and typically cause less pain - because I think this should be an option for me, regardless of my prognosis.

Fortunately, he agreed - it turns out that the reason this was rejected in the past was that I was only expected to live a few months, whereas I’ve clearly shown that I’m not interested in their best guesses.

I’ve used my cancer as an opportunity for personal growth and exploration of what truly matters to me. That doesn’t mean that the journey has been easy; it hasn’t. Cancer has disrupted my life in so many profound and traumatic ways. It’s changed my whole physical, emotional and relational identity - which has brought challenges, believe me - but I chose to build something meaningful out of the experience instead. My priorities changed, for the better, and I have a deeper appreciation for life now. Not to mention a stronger sense of who I want to be in that life. To quote John Candy (in ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles’): “I like me. My wife likes me … ‘Cause I’m the real article. What you see is what you get.” I’ve accepted this new, evolved version of myself, and strangely, I have cancer to thank for that (not that I’ll ever be thankful I have advanced cancer). The book is just a small part of that.

It took a long time, but I’m so glad that I don’t have to work anymore. I find that whole “work-to-live” mentality so strange these days. It’s probably great if you do something you love, but a lot of people are just getting by right now. I’ve come to realise how finite time and energy are; how much of life can consist of things like minor grievances, toxic relationships and draining obligations; how hard it can be to take care of yourself. Now, I can focus on things like nutrition, exercise, creative outlets… I’ve found a purpose in my struggles, and I treat myself with fierce self-compassion. I feel more confident to keep moving forward on my own terms.

I haven’t beaten cancer. But cancer hasn’t beaten me either, and it was the wake-up call I never knew I needed. Think about that. (Obviously no one needs cancer.)

Lots of love. Jim xx

So much of living with cancer isn't really about cancer at all. Yesterday I was in hospital having my kidney stents chan...
25/09/2026

So much of living with cancer isn't really about cancer at all. Yesterday I was in hospital having my kidney stents changed. I need to do this every 4-6 months, and it's the result of the extreme chemo course I had right at the start of my journey, which damaged my kidneys and urethra tubes (it was also the wrong chemo!)

It's not the only thing I've acquired along the way either because I also have treatment induced addisons disease (a rare, chronic disorder where your adrenal glands do not produce enough of the essential hormones cortisol and aldosterone) and ulcerative colitis (a long-term inflammatory bowel disease that causes swelling and open sores/ulcers in the inner lining of the large intestine and re**um). It's the price to pay for staying alive 😊

Kidney stents are commonly inserted to help people pass kidney stones, but are then usually taken out again because people say the pain of the stents is worse than the pain of the stones. Often, I can't sleep because of the pain, and there's only so much Oxycodone I can take. For the record, I receive palliative care but, like so many others, I still live with pain.

They also severely limit my mobility. I need them though. Last time we tried to remove them, I ended up in hospital. Because my cancer has spread to my lymph system, metal stents (which cause much less pain and don't need changing so often) aren't an option. So much choice is removed when you're stage 4.

In fact, the only other option is a nephrostomy bag (a thin, flexible tube is placed through the skin and directly into the kidney which is then connected to an external collection bag and strapped to your body during the day/hung on a bedside stand at night). Honestly, I don't feel ready for that. It's my choice though and I'm okay with it. There isn't an argument I can't win with myself simply by saying that I'm still alive (some people aren't as fortunate as me though and I always want to be mindful of that).

The other concern was that, when the surgeon was in there, he noticed a new mass on my right kidney. Most likely it's just inflamation from the stent, which is a foreign object constantly rubbing against the organ. Of course, it could be cancerous though and so they've taken a biopsy. When you have cancer I find that my mind automatically goes there anyway, even when I know the chances are low. Like most things, I'll put it to the back of my mind (girls just wanna have fun, am I right), but it will still be an anxious wait for the result and Ill need a scan too. So much of living with cancer seems to be about waiting for one thing or another. It's important not to put your life on hold though.

In more exciting news, I've actually now finished my book about living with cancer and shipped it around to some literary agents. I haven't heard anything yet but it's early days. I'm conscious of the fact that I'm not expected to live that long though and, while I don't put too much stock in that (I was given 3 months over 3 years ago), the reality is I am expected to die and self-publishing might be a better, and quicker, option for me. I've never done anything like this before and would like to see it through while I'm still alive. I also have my first children's book being released real soon so watch this space 🚀 That's a cheeky clue 😉

Love Jim xx

I've know far too many people die from brain tumours 😔
25/09/2026

I've know far too many people die from brain tumours 😔

The test means patients can start treatment sooner and are spared weeks of uncertainty.

Haven't done this for a while, but it just popped up and reminded me. I have no idea how points are rewarded, it makes n...
24/09/2026

Haven't done this for a while, but it just popped up and reminded me. I have no idea how points are rewarded, it makes no sense, but thanks for being a top engager and making it onto my weekly engagement list! 🎉 Harriet Lawler, Pol Thomas, Heather Redding

Hi all. I'm struggling to answer all of your comments on my last post (about the assisted dying bill). Perhaps, understa...
22/09/2026

Hi all. I'm struggling to answer all of your comments on my last post (about the assisted dying bill). Perhaps, understandably given the amount of public debate over it, it seemed to resonate with quite a few of you. And I love that. It doesn't matter to me if you are for or against. What matters is having constructive conversations.

I've never wanted this to just be a page focused on "likes", and I've always tried to acknowledge every person who has taken the time to reach out to me. This debate is no different and there were so many meaningful contributions, on both sides, that reactions don't seem enough. I learned a lot and I want any responses to mean something, especially given the sensitivity around what some of you felt able to share.

It is clear that a lot of people didn't even read my post though before commenting, which is a shame. There was also a lot of assumptions going on, and I felt the need to delete a number of inappropriate comments that contained false, often absurd, claims. I fully welcome criticism and concerns around what is, naturally, a controversial issue. But I won't be part of the spread of misinformation or lies. It's clear that a lot of people really have no idea about what is, and is not, happening in other countries.

Facebook also hides inappropriate comments that could be spam or unsafe, and I rarely unhide these. So, if I didn't see your comment, I'm sorry. I also generally don't allow links or images, unless they add something positive. I had to block a couple of users, which I've never done before, because they said some pretty nasty things, not just to me, but to others who had expressed an opinion. People should feel free to have a voice without being attacked. Indeed, I was told on a couple of occasions that I should commit su***de. However, my life insurance excludes this so, sorry, its not really a valid option for me.

Not that I would. There was a time in my life when I was suicidal. This was before my cancer diagnosis. If I was going to commit su***de, it would've been then. I never actually truly believed that I would act on it, it was just a comfort to know that there was a way out (in the same way that the existence of assisted dying could, undoubtedly, bring reassurance and peace of mind for many terminally ill people - even though only a small percentage actually use it when the time comes).

People automatically assumed that because (a) I'm a mentally competent adult with less than 6 months to live; and (b) I'm in favour of assisted dying, that I would be one of the first in line. The reality is a little more complex. A lot of people fear a death from cancer, and for good reasons, but the reality doesn't always match expectations. I would only use assisted dying as a last resort option if palliative care had failed - and perhaps not even then because the fact that you have to self-administer the medicine means a lot of people don't go through with it. I don't know if I could. Right now I feel as though I would want as much time with my family as possible. Perspectives are known to change however the closer to death a person is. Not to mention the level of suffering.

I think some people would do well to remember that opinions aren't facts. And that, just because someone doesn't agree with you, it doesn't mean that their views aren't valid. There's no single right or wrong answer here. What I do know though, is that understanding people's fears, concerns and worries is one of the best ways to secure a more widely accepted outcome. I think that most people want the same thing. It's just how we get there, and making sure we don't go too far - it's probably also worth noting that assisted dying/su***de and euthanasia aren't the same thing since this seemed to confuse a number of users.

I tried to answer as many comments as I could, especially ones that asked questions or seemed like the start of a conversation. If I didn't get to your comment yet, it doesn't mean that it didn't add value. I read them all, and I appreciated everyone's experience, values and beliefs. I'd like to think that part of the reason I've built up trust with some of you is because I've never tried to force my opinions on you. I've always encouraged people to make their own choices about their life and health, and I wouldn't want to lose that. It just wasnt possible for me to answer every comment without feeling overwhelmed (I also didn't realise that the more active a post is, the more newsfeeds it appears in, and so I consciously took a step back from it in the end).

So live, laugh and love, and I'll be back soon. Thank you.

Jim xx

So disappointed that yesterday's assisted dying bill failed 😞 As someone living with terminal cancer, my dying wish was ...
12/09/2026

So disappointed that yesterday's assisted dying bill failed 😞 As someone living with terminal cancer, my dying wish was to know that I have a choice when the time comes and that I could spare myself the lack of dignity and autonomy awaiting me.

Around 400 million people now live in countries which have legalised assisted dying. That means around 400 million people now have a choice. Who are any of us to deny a person that, regardless of our personal views. Why do any of us think it's okay to force someone to live with unbearable pain and suffering.

I've reviewed the proposed safeguards and, honestly, I'm not sure what more can be added. There's a long list of requirements that MUST be met before a person would be considered eligible. Crucially, it would only be open to mentally competent adults with a terminal illness who are expected to die within six months - and must be self-administered.

Critics point to Canada as an example of the "slippery slope" that this could put us on because, although it was introduced only to the terminally ill, it has since been extended to those experiencing unbearable suffering from an irreversible illness or disability. Again though, why would we want to take away that person's right to choose.

Critics also point to the Netherlands and Belgium where the rules were extended to children experiencing unbearable suffering from an incurable illness. For me, the same argument applies. Does the fact that they're a child really change the argument. I know a lot of us might want it to because it's unpleasant to think about. But it isn't as unpleasant as it is for the child with the irreversible and incurable illness who is suffering every day.

It's a sensitive topic, and I respect that. I would never tell anyone that their opinion was wrong. This is simply my take on what has been undoubtedly a complicated matter. The other thing to remember though is that not everyone goes ahead with it, and not everyone chooses it. Everyone is different.

Personally, when I was given less than 6 months to live, I still wouldn't have chosen assisted dying because there is always hope. Hope that I would live longer, and I have, and even hope that I can beat this awful disease. Most important though, I wasn't suffering unbearably. I know that it isn't just about me though.

It's perhaps telling that, in a 2025 report, 61% of patients who ask for help to die had cancer. It's also perhaps telling that cancer care in England and Wales generally lags behind comparable wealthy and developed nations in survival rates, waiting times and access to treatment!

We also need to address the significant gaps in palliative care because, while the UK infrastructure looks exceptional on paper, leading end-of-life charities like Hospice UK and Marie Curie have reported that a lack of round-the-clock community care means that about half of all palliative patients in England and Wales end up in A&E departments during their final three months of life and often die in chaotic hospital environments rather than at home or in a quiet hospice.

Access to specialised care also varies wildly depending on geographic location, local council budgets and the proximity of well-funded independent hospices. Independent hospices provide a massive portion of the UK's specialist care, yet they rely heavily on charity shops and public donations for roughly 70% of their operational costs. This simply isn't sustainable.

I support the government's pledge to fix palliative care although it isn't yet clear where the estimated £450 million needed is going to come from and whether the proposed actions can be fully realised. It needs to happen regardless. However, it doesn't mitigate the fact that that someone should be able to choose between high-quality palliative care or assisted dying.

Anyway, that was way longer than I intended it to be. I'm glad that people are taking the debate seriously, but I do wonder if sometimes we lose sight of what is really at the heart of this. At least people are talking about it and many of the concerns raised are naturally valid. I still hope that this passes one day though and I think it will. I might not be around to see it but I don't think it's going away any time soon. Hopefully, I'm not either 😁

Jim xx

Navigating the seasons when you're living with a terminal illness can be a profound and emotional experience that many p...
07/09/2026

Navigating the seasons when you're living with a terminal illness can be a profound and emotional experience that many people and families face.

For me, summer is over. NOT SO FAST! I hear some of you say. Summer isnt over yetl! It all depends on which definition you use. Are you a meteorological or astronomical kinda person. I'm not here to debate that. I like neat little blocks. And I'm tired. SO VERY TIRED ha-ha So, for me, summer is over 😊

It isn't doom and gloom though. I welcome the change. I'm ready for it. Yes, there is still a little nostalgia for those long warm summer days, and that's completely normal, but autumn is my favourite season. I love nature's display of brilliant foliage, the smell of the rain and the crisp, clear air. I also love the back-to-school feeling I get when my daughter is someone else's problem for most of the week 😂

For some, however, there can be a sense of sadness or anxiety that comes with the seasonal shift. As seasons change, it can be common to experience a quiet grief for the periods of the year that you may not see again. I'm no different, and I'm left wondering if this will be my last autumn. Maybe you look a lot different to autumn last year due to declining physical health.

What I've noticed is that time has shifted from an abstract concept into something deeply tangible since my diagnosis. It's no longer measured in years, but by the changing of the seasons. Somewhere along the way my perspective changed from linear thinking to cyclical and, instead of looking forward to a distant future - which can be really painful - I prefer to focus on immediate anchors.

In 2023 I was given three months to live and so, my first goal became to live for three months. And then another three months... That's probably why I like to think of each season as being three distinct months. There's a milestone effect with each one becoming a major achievement. To me, having one more autumn represents a hugely tangible and deeply meaningful goal.

I have to focus on the present, and I choose to look at these transitions positively. That way I can reframe it around what lies ahead. There's an immediate beauty and comfort available to me right now. My summer is BUSY. I'm looking forward to the cosiness that comes with autumn. The shorter days and movie nights. The autumn blankets and seasonal events. Its a time to rest and recharge.

My daughter was four years old when I was diagnosed. Now, she's a beautiful eight-year-old girl starting Year 4. It's another huge milestone. I wasn't expected to see her make the transition from nursery to school and there's something... a sense of order and continuity to these feelings when my internal physical health feels altogether... unpredictable.

However you feel. Remember, you are allowed to take things at your own pace, whether that's one season, one month, one week, one day, one hour or even one moment at a time. Starting a new season can sometimes feel daunting, but you don’t have to do it alone.

Jim xx

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