Kenny McIntosh, Fife
I was diagnosed with advanced stage 4 bowel cancer on Sunday 2 August 2020 aged 54.
I was born and bred in Burntisland, Fife, Scotland. I’ve moved around Fife during my life but have never left the county. I have three grown-up sons and one grandson and now live with my loving partner Lorraine.
Around November 2019, I received a bowel screening test through the post. Sadly, I ignored this and never sent a poo sample. Also, around this time, I was suffering severe knee pain and was scheduled to undergo an arthroscopy procedure on 26 January 2020. This was planned to be an outpatient appointment which only needed a day-bed visit. After I had successful keyhole surgery to my left knee, I was advised that I would need to stay overnight as they had discovered 'anomalies' within my blood samples, which they thought to be a potential stomach ulcer. I was discharged on 27 January and told that my GP would likely be in touch.
By July 2020, COVID-19 was rife, and everyone was grounded. I felt great, with no knee pain, or health issues. All was good, except COVID. Then out of the blue, I received an appointment letter to attend Kirkcaldy Victoria Hospital to undergo an MRI scan, which I attended on 24th July 2020. After the scan, I went home. I didn’t even get my coat off when I received a call from the hospital, asking me to attend hospital again, this time for a colonoscopy. I attended this on 1 August 2020.
All seemed fine until the procedure came to a halt and a specialist was immediately summoned. I wasn’t aware of any issue and advised to go back home and rest. Again, I got through my front door, hadn’t even taken my jacket off and received another call from the hospital. This time I was asked to visit the hospital the following morning, on Sunday 2 August 2020, to meet with the specialist who interrupted my colonoscopy. I thought it was strange that this was on a Sunday, although I put this down to COVID.
I met with the specialist as planned, only to be told that I had advanced advanced stage 4 bowel cancer, which was likely invasive to my stomach. I was given an estimated 6% chance of survival. I was totally shocked to hear my diagnosis. However, from the point of being told, I was 100% confident that I would beat the disease and survive. I remember the specialist asking if I needed anything and I just said, ‘Please save my life’. He said that he would do his very best and advised me to stay strong and confident.
On Thursday 13 August 2020, I underwent major surgery. After an 11.5-hour operation, I had lost 70% of my bowel, 60% of my stomach and 82 lymph nodes. I was then transferred to a high dependency unit where I was bedbound for a few weeks. I can remember being advised to keep pushing the button if I felt any pain, ‘the button’ meaning morphine into my IV line. I didn't like it at all. I was left with a 14-inch incision from my sternum down to my belly button, held together by staples.
I was very well cared for in the hospital, but it was very lonely due to COVID, and it was difficult to control my emotions. However, I maintained my optimism and did as I was told. The hardest part was constantly being aware of a tube down my nose and throat, which was extremely irritating, although necessary. On Monday 14 September 2020, I was discharged from hospital and returned home. I was nearly four stone lighter and didn’t have the tummy I had never wanted!
The chemotherapy which followed was horrendous, I won't lie! This, for me, was the hardest part. I won't go into too much detail, as I would rather try and erase this part from my memory. I will just say that it can affect individuals differently and my side effects were terrible!
On 23 December 2020, I was given the best Christmas news ever; there was no trace of any anomaly in my blood samples. I then had to give monthly blood samples via my GP. This was reduced to biannual tests in 2023/24. I had a follow-up colonoscopy in late 2023 and another colonoscopy in August 2025, both of which proved clear and well. In September 2025, I was given a full medical discharge, with no follow up needed. I now plan to live to 106 years young, at the earliest!
I was offered full support from the NHS from my diagnosis, both to date and into the future. Really amazing support is available! I chose not to take any external support option, as I felt there would be others in a worse situation than myself that would benefit far greater than me. I was feeling very good and healthy. My family, friends, employers and colleagues have all been greatly supportive. I could not ask for any more support than what was offered and given. I now promote that all my family, friends and people over 50 carry out their screening tests, every time they are required to.
Immediately after my diagnosis, I told no one: not my partner, my family, or employer. At the time, although I was extremely optimistic and confident that I would survive, I chose to keep my diagnosis to myself. I told everyone that I had to go into hospital for a stomach operation. I’d prepared a will and wrote a letter of instruction to my youngest son only to be opened after my death, just in case the worst did happen. Thankfully, it didn't! When I did tell everyone the truth, I was Mr. Unpopular — only for a very short time though, as they understood my predicament.
My message is: cancer is silent. Don’t overlook any ailment or ill feeling. Get it checked out, cancer or not. I hope cancer never happens to any of you, but it could. You are only here once, so take care of yourself. Much love!
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