Anastasia Saxby, Hampshire
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My husband died from stage 4 bowel cancer when he was just 45, in May 2022.
My husband, Leighton, was a healthy and active man for most of his life. In the November before his death, I remember him mentioning that he felt tired, but we have two young kids and work was busy for him. It was understandable that he felt like this. As a family we all had Covid, which could further explain why he was so tired. However, as the other three of us started to feel better Leighton felt like he’d never fully recovered.
He visited the GP before Christmas and they took a blood test, and in the new year we were told that his bilirubin levels were very high (30). We listened as the GP said that Leighton could have cancer and referred him to hospital. We were shocked, it had never occurred to us. In January, he had an ultrasound scan and a liver biopsy, but it was after the CT scan that we were told he had bowel cancer. His oncologist confirmed that it was stage four and it had spread to his liver, lungs and abdominal area.
We were devastated, but very quickly we found the strength to fight and hope for more years together. We have family and friends with cancer and they’ve lived for many years. I had a lot of hope for Leighton.
He started chemotherapy very quickly, but after eight days on his first of six cycles he developed mechanical jaundice. We rushed him to A&E and he spent four days in hospital. They tried so hard to relieve him of the pain and tried interventional radiology. He had another CT scan, and the results were devastating. The tumours had grown, with one being 18cm. The position and size of them meant there was nothing they could do.
He was able to go through with his second cycle of chemotherapy, although it was tablet only. It was a success, he was starting to feel better and his liver felt like it was improving too. We felt like we were moving forward. But his sugar levels were sky high, and he couldn’t continue chemotherapy until they had reduced. Instead of a one week break in between chemotherapy cycles, he took three weeks and a lot more drugs to manage his sugar levels.
Before he started his third cycle of chemotherapy, we were warned that he may not be able to continue treatment, and if that was the case he would have three months to live. Our hopes melted. He became weaker.
The palliative care team came to visit and adapted our house to meet Leighton’s needs. After seven days he developed jaundice again and it meant that his treatment had to stop. On the 26 April we were told that he would have only have a few weeks.
Leighton was discharged to the palliative care team. He was getting weaker and weaker, but thankfully he wasn’t in pain. He spent his last week at St Michael’s Hospice in Basingstoke, the staff there were very caring and supportive to us all.
On the 21 May, I went to visit him in the hospice. That morning he was in a lot of discomfort and in some pain, which began to feel intense by 12pm. It was hard to see him in such a pain and I hoped after a heavy dose of painkillers and sedation he would fall asleep and feel better. But he died in my arms at 2pm.
From when he was diagnosed in January, not once did he show any anger, bitterness or self-pity, and worried only for those around him. He was an amazing person. Leighton was only 45 years old and we had two beautiful daughters together.
He had family members who died from same type of cancer and his dad was diagnosed with a different type of cancer for seven years now.
We just wish his body showed more symptoms before it was too late.
