Jenny Duncan, Hull

I was diagnosed with bowel cancer in October 2019.

In July 2019, I was on holiday in Lanzarote and I noticed bright red poo on the toilet tissue. I thought it was piles and didn’t think too much of it. I then noticed blood more often, but I chose to ignore it, hoping it would get better. Part of my reluctance to go to the doctors at the time was due to a stigma around speaking about the topic. It's a bit embarrassing when it's bottoms and I was worried about getting examined. I wanted it to go away. I wanted to believe it was piles. I started a job as Assistant Headteacher in a new school. I was putting in long hours and everything was new to me. I'd been working  ridiculously long hours and I was very stressed. I wanted to believe that the blood was linked to that.

I was now going to the toilet up to six times a day towards the end of September and the blood was now a lot thicker with mucus and clots. In my heart, I knew I should get checked out. I started to take photographs of my poo to try find a pattern. I began to tentatively google my symptoms. I had no pain. Just lots of blood. My husband just happened to see me looking at one of the photos one evening in bed and he was absolutely horrified and urged me to visit my GP.

That was the start of me getting my act together and I contacted my GP at the beginning of October. By then, I was frantically trying to work out why I was bleeding so badly from my bottom. I still wanted to believe that it was piles, colitis or diverticular disease, but when I read about those symptoms, I knew that it wasn’t what I was experiencing.

At first, my GP told me I was too young for cancer, but my husband encouraged me to show her the photos of my bloody stools. As soon as she saw them, she referred me for a colonoscopy on the two-week urgent pathway for cancer and my heart sank. I had to provide poo samples to be sent away too.

I began urgently and obsessively researching bowel cancer and when I found the younger patients’ experiences of cancer on the Bowel Cancer UK website, I read every single story trying to find a story similar to my experience. The website was such a comfort to me as in my heart, I knew by this point, that it was cancer. When the colonoscopy revealed the tumour, it was almost a relief after months of worry. I'm thankful that I found the stories as they helped me to eliminate other bowel conditions and prepare myself for the worst news. It also educated me into realising that bowel cancer affects younger patients too.

I had a CT scan in December 2019 followed by an MRI scan and pet scan, which confirmed lymph nodes were infected. I was terrified.

I began Folfiri with a target therapy drug called Cetuximab in January. I didn't tolerate chemotherapy well at all; it made me violently sick and dizzy. The Cetuximab gave me an awful rash on my face and torso which I had to take antibiotics for. I lost my hair. I was due to have three months of this regime, but it was cut short when I developed blood clots on my lungs.

After a month break, I had bowel surgery to remove the tumour at the end of March. The country had just locked down due to covid. I had to stay in hospital for just over a week and I couldn’t have any visitors. The nurses wore extensive PPE due to covid. It was a very scary and lonely experience. My surgeon had tried to look for the distant lymph node to remove it during surgery, but he came to tell me a few days later that he couldn’t find it.

I had mop up chemotherapy in June 2020 after eight weeks recovery from surgery. I had Oxaliplatin intravenously in the hospital and Capecitabine tablets at home. The experience was awful. I was so sick and had nausea. I was so poorly that all I could do was lay in bed. I couldn’t even watch TV or read as I felt so poorly. I was hospitalised for four days due to the sickness. The nurses couldn’t find an anti-sickness drug that would work for me. The experience was even more difficult due to covid. I was in a hospital room on my own and I wasn’t allowed any visitors. I felt very low.

I pushed through the four chemo cycles over four months. I even tried hypnotherapy sessions before my second cycle to see if I could control the sickness and nausea. It didn’t work. Each cycle resulted in me being bedridden for ten days. It was very tough and I had some dark days. I wanted to give myself the best chance of cancer not coming back though so I completed the four cycles. I had to dig deep though. It was an extremely difficult period in my life and I wanted to give up most days. The only plus was that the Cetuximab I had in January and February caused me to grow beautiful long eye lashes – not that I could go anywhere to show them off to due to me being bedridden and also because of covid. My hair had also started to grow back too.

Gradually, I began to get my strength back. The tiredness began to get easier. The trembling disappeared. By the end of November 2020, I was ready to return to work. A CT scan in December 2020, showed no evidence of disease. I asked my oncologist what had happened to the distant lymph node and he said he didn’t know. My oncologist discharged me and referred me to the living beyond cancer team. I felt uneasy about this as I remember that my oncologist had told me that distant lymph nodes couldn't be cured by chemotherapy.

In June 2021, I had a blood test to check my CEA levels. I told the nurse in the living beyond cancer team that my bloods had never detected cancer and I asked if I could have a CT scan. She told me that having too many CT scans can be dangerous and I should wait until December 2021. I felt I had no choice but to accept this. I had a bad feeling about it.

In January 2022, after a year of an all-clear status, a recurrence in my distant lymph nodes was confirmed after a CT scan in December 2021. I had to wait five weeks for my results which was very stressful. I was absolutely devastated once I was given the results, as I knew I was now stage 4 and incurable. My future felt bleak.

Between 2021 and up to October 2025, my life mainly consisted of a watch and wait approach. I had regular three-monthly CT scans, and the lymph nodes sometimes showed a small growth, and a lot of the times showed stability. My oncologist decided that he would not recommend chemotherapy at that time due to its toxicity. He explained that my quality of life was more important.

In 2025, I began to experience back pains which over the course of the year became very painful and my quality of life has been hugely affected. I now take daily painkillers and use a wheelchair at times when I cannot walk long distances.

My oncologist decided that it was time to start chemotherapy again after a scan in the summer showed a new area of cancer in my right side. I absolutely did not want to do this, but I knew that I had to try. He recommended a third line chemo called Lonsurf alongside a target therapy drug called Avastin. This combination has been proven to have very positive results for patients in my position. With trepidation, I had Avastin intravenously administered at the hospital and I was given ten days’ worth of Lonsurf to take at home. I was extremely sick and ill again. Bedridden once again. I even had to spend a day in the Acute Assessment Ward to try get my sickness under control. I only got through half of the Lonsurf tablets. It was yet again, a miserable experience.

Early 2026 I had a scan that showed progression of the cancer into the liver but I’m hoping this is benign.   

I'm scared for my future. It has been six years since my diagnosis and I sometimes feel that I have a giant noose around my neck. It's difficult coping with all the appointments and procedures. I find attending the hospital triggering too. All I do is keep my hope burning bright. One day, that magical cure might just happen.

My family and friends have been amazing. It was difficult for them to support me in person during covid, but I received cards and flowers and hundreds of text messages. Since the restrictions were lifted, I've heavily relied on my family and friends and I've used every opportunity to create amazing memories.

My colleagues have been a constant source of support when I was working and even more so since I have had had to take time off work whilst on treatment. Lots of my colleagues surprised me by joining me on my first charity walk in October raising funds for the BowelBabe Fund in memory of Dame Deborah James. Together with my family and friends, we managed to raise £5,000.

My school colleagues have also had a huge banner made. The banner states that they are supporting me. It has my photo on it is attached to the school fence for every passerby to read!

I also share parts of my life in my Instagram posts under bowelchickawowwow. I'm very keen to document my life as a cancer patient for a number of reasons. I want other cancer patients to feel that they connect with what I write. I want to educate people that bowel cancer can happen to everyone and that we must track our poo just like we track other things such as our steps, or heart rate etc. Early detection is key.  

My writing also tells the brutal truth about what we go through as cancer patients and the ups and downs of our lives. I've been told this helps friends, family, carers, loved ones to understand how we feel and how they can support. It also highlights what our loved ones have to go through too - it isn’t just our lives it affects; it affects everyone we know. I would also like to make it easier for people to talk about cancer and about poo! Being made aware of signs and symptoms can save lives.

I'd like people to be aware of their bodies and check their poo regularly. If things do not feel right, visit your GP immediately. It is likely to be nothing, but I left my symptoms for months and I have ended up as a stage 4 incurable patient. What if I had gone to my GP earlier? Maybe I could've saved my life.  

We shouldn't be embarrassed and we must learn to talk about poo more. Bowel cancer is rising amongst people under 50 and we must be more vigilant and spot and signs and symptoms and even more importantly – get yourself checked out! 

And in the words of Dame Deborah James, always have rebellious hope.