'It was worse than first imagined, terminal cancer' Lancashire dad's powerful essay

As I write this I am currently waiting for a CAT scan on my head and body, scanxiety it’s a real thing. Here is my story…

My name is Graham, a 46-year-old, father to 10-year-old Chloe and husband to my rock Nikki.

I’ve worked all over and done lots of jobs but at the age of 36 I became a father and my world instantly changed. Not just from me actually being a Dad but also wanting to provide support for others as I guided my way through the early days of parenthood

I helped set up a Facebook support group with just over 1,000 Dads in it offering support and advice, arranging meet ups and connecting dads.

From there I started running football sessions for dads getting them out the house and we ended up creating Team kickabout with one of the other dads with the aim of offering more sessions to support dads getting off the couch and socialising whilst exercising through football.

In 2024 I started having hip pains which got worse and worse and after multiple failed visits to the GP to find out what was wrong I was referred to the clinic at Wrightington who did a barrage of tests, then the phone call came

Is that Mr Sims? Can you get to Wrightington ASAP as a matter of the utmost urgency and in the meantime do not use your left leg

Wow, erm ok, so off I popped I picked up my wife and then the then six year old and I drove straight to Wrightington where I was told the dreaded news

You have cancer!!!!!!

Both me and my wife broke down immediately whilst my daughter played in the background.

We don’t know what type or how far along all we know is if we don’t take out the tumour it will snap your hip so a about a week later, I was under the knife and a partial femur and hip replacement later I was in recovery and working harder than I ever have to get home to my wife and child

They were the pure motivation for me getting out of that bed and effectively learning to walk again and taking those first steps into a while unknown

It was there I was introduced to the palliative care team from St Catherine’s Hospice.

Omg palliative, that’s end-of-life stuff! Luckily, no, they were incredible support and guidance and would continue to be for some time helping me understand and manage my medication and my expectations of what was coming

That was tough but nowhere near as tough as what came next.

By the time I met my oncologist Dr Parikh the tumour had been identified and it was worse than first imagined, terminal cancer at that point my head exploded and I’m really glad my wife was there as I don’t remember any of the rest of that conversation as all I heard over and over again was terminal cancer……terminal that’s it I’m cooked

Still in a tailspin I was directed to Macmillan who were incredible helping set up my blue badge and my application for PIP whilst I was still a mess mentally, they were my strength at that time and really helped me guide those waters, all the time was still obsession about being terminal……what am I going to do.?

Macmillan introduced me to Cancer Care who arranged for some counselling for me to help me get my head around it, doesn’t really work for me but what did was friends, I am very lucky to have a very diverse set of friends who all have different outlook on things and talking with them helped me get around this very bleak outlook, one thing I have always done is to try and turn a negative into a positive and make good a situation.

Mentally it took some doing but I’ve always felt mentally strong and I started looking at statistics roughly one in two people in the UK are diagnosed with cancer at some point in their life and you know what if that’s me then that means there is someone out there who doesn’t have to as I’ve taken that one slot, silly way to think but it gave me some peace and helped me move on with it a little, as I recover from my op and started immunotherapy a whole new horror awaited……side effects

Fatigue, bad skin sores I could deal with but the mouth ulcers that did some damage, and the loss of hair colour really hit me as I didn’t recognise the person looking back in the mirror, there is also the memory loss, brain fog and getting flustered easily really is frustrating to say the least but I told my oncologist I’m fighting this with everything I have so she put me on a good combination that whilst it was brutal it had the desired effect.

The treatment plan so round after round of treatment and tough side effects, the day after immunotherapy I can barely move from the chair, and it literally leaves me in a useless pile of drool…

But it’s working,

I was given a prognosis of three years originally. At the time of writing, we are two years and four months into that initial three years

Since then, I have had the kidney removed which was fun.

The surgeon said it was the biggest kidney he had ever removed this gave me an improved prognosis of seven years, which is great but still daunting as that would take my daughter to around the time of her GCSEs, the thought of her going through my decline whilst handling her exams destroys me

One thing that really was a shocker is the thought of what happens at the end as I only had a short time to get all my ducks in order so I didn’t want to waste time and spent a lot of time trying to wrap my head around the end and coming to term with leaving, the one thing that really breaks me is leaving me wife and little girl behind, everything else I can handle

Recovering was brutal from surgeries due to the tiredness from the immunotherapy. I really found it hard however the thought of getting back to a new normal for my family really kept me going, on both occasions my daughter used to walk me round the street to keep me moving and get me active, the cancer workout group at Preston North End run by the Community Trust have been so important in not only my physical health but also my mental side of it all as once a week I’m sat in a room with like minded people who have all been though one form or another

Being sat In the chemo unit once a month is an IV attached having toxic juice poured into you whilst seeing others going through the same is bad enough, then you include the feeling of uselessness when you can’t do all the things you used to do

Take away the side effects which affect me day to day then there is the day after immunotherapy I literally am just sat in and out of naps just, staring at the TV it’s not a great feeling

Whilst managing these I was directed to several charities that arranged respite trips, Purple Hearts sent us to Chester Zoo. Honey Rose Foundation sent me and Nikki on a spa night but for me the most important was the Osborne trust, they were for Chloe.

Emma sent her a journal, a teddy and a little worry bear that Chloe still uses today, you tell it your worries and it takes them away, they also sent her and a friend to the cinema whilst I had immunotherapy. They still check in from time to time whilst doing all the amazing work they do for everyone. I genuinely believe without these in my first year I would have really struggled to cope. They really helped me take my mind off it all and focus my energy towards kicking this into touch.

Despite what’s going on with me the bills don’t stop coming through so I have to keep working, as much as I wish I could stay home and concentrate on getting myself to the best possible version of me, I still have to go an earn a wage so we can not only live but also make precious memories

Cracking on regardless, same mental, standpoint, the world doesn’t stop spinning just because I have cancer so I try each day to live life the best I can and crack on. Every morning I wake up and as it takes, me a little while to get out of bed now I can use that time to mentally prepare for the day and psyche myself up to go on.

All the staff at Rosemere are the reason I am still here now looking forward to some small aspect of the future and not dreading going into that final 12 months of life, their care, advice, guidance and attitudes have all been a massive part of my journey though this. From the café staff, phone calls from nurses to my set appointments and even the chats whilst I’m having immunotherapy it all contributes to me still being here and looking forward and helping me embrace my attitude towards this positivity.

My family are my world. My wife has always had my back and supported me in everything I have done without a thought she really is my backbone and has always given me the extra strength I need to keep going not missing appointments making sure I take all my meds on time and just keeping everything in order and Chloe is so helpful and has had to grow up a lot for a 10-year-old she is so helpful and have even come to most appointments, she really is my personal assistant in mini form, I wish she didn’t have to go through this but she has taken it on like a champion and shown real strength.

The support of friends, I have a good set of friends who are all supportive, from chats in school pickups to going out for food, dark humour and advice they really are great

Since finding out about the post-cancer workout group it has helped me massively not only with my fitness and social side but also with a sense of belonging which gives me somewhere I can be a part of a group that knows exactly how I’m feeling

My limitations are now physical as I can’t walk long distances and when I do walk, I have a stick with me for support and a scooter for days out so I can still enjoy family time, I’m always tired so I have to plan events so I can sleep prior to it and save my energy up, many a time I have come home from work and just slept on the chair

The Darkness. I have a very bright outlook on life and death and this whole situation but that doesn’t mean I don’t cry, panic or flap I totally do and the depression that goes along with all this really sucks but how much time am I losing by being depressed, don’t get me wrong I can’t just snap out of it however I do need to kick it into touch pretty quick so I can get on with what’s left of life.

Anxiety. This deserves it own paragraph I was never really an anxious person, now it’s all I am just a big anxious ball, every scan I’m then anxious about the results just waiting and waiting for something to go wrong or the cancer to spread more, or even my hip to give way and need another operation.

If I could give any words of advice to anyone going through this:

The fight is worth it, don’t bottle it up, speak to people and find help wherever you can, you are definitely not alone in this.

Graham’s essay was also published on Blog Preston as part of a collaboration with the Lancashire Post