Aasma Fayaz, Herefordshire

I was diagnosed with stage 2 bowel cancer on 8 November 2025 after a colonoscopy at Hereford County Hospital.

I am a 38-year-old British Indian living in England for over 10 years, having relocated to work as a child protection social worker.

I was born premature at 28 weeks’ gestation and always had bowel related problems as far as I can remember. This meant I struggled with constipation from a very young age. Over the years, I accepted it as my normal tummy problems. This was compounded by my history of iron deficiency anaemia.

I've had a pattern of experiencing anaemia for which various tests were done in 2023 when I moved to Herefordshire. I had undergone various alternate therapies such as Ayurvedic Panchakarma between 2022 and 2024, none of which highlighted anything serious like cancer. I was advised to change my lifestyle and follow a seasonal diet and in 2024 I began eating healthier and exercising more consciously.

My symptoms

After travelling back from India in October 2024 I experienced rapid weight loss and extreme tiredness. I approached my GP in January 2025 who noticed a pattern and referred me for a gastroenterology assessment. I was put back on iron supplements. In April the hospital sent me a letter explaining the possible causes of my problems: this could be ulcerative colitis, Crohn’s disease, or, in the worst case, bowel cancer.

I was asked to return a FIT test which I submitted to the hospital when I had my initial screening appointment with a gastroenterology team nurse. My appointment was cancelled in July 2025 and rescheduled for August. During this appointment I was vaguely told they suspected problems with my upper digestive tract. I found this very confusing.

I had shingles in July, along with mouth ulcers, cold sores, a high burning sensation in my bowels and persistent migraines. I couldn't carry on working. I was prescribed various medications by my GP and went off sick hoping to be better in time. Sadly, I didn’t realise it was going to get worse with time.

My diagnosis

In September I was informed by the hospital that they needed to do an endoscopy to look at my upper tract. I consented and swallowed the fancy twinkling PillCam, which I fondly named Nemo. Nemo was lost in my gut for a few days and we don’t know when it left my system. It made me extremely unwell. I remember driving back home and feeling faint. I felt so ill that day that I couldn’t eat, drink or take any suppositories.

Days after this, my symptoms got worse with rectal bleeding, several bouts of diarrhoea alternating with constipation and a persistent burning sensation in my lower tummy area. I noticed blood when wiping tissue in the toilet at my hair salon appointment. The hairdresser had also commented how much hair I was losing during the wash. My gut didn't feel right then and I was quite scared. I rang my GP who gave me several tests to do to rule out any infections. One of the GPs called me back to explain that my FIT test was positive with the result being 600+, meaning there was a high risk of bowel cancer.

A week after my PillCam appointment, I got a concerning phone call from the hospital stating they were very worried about the images they had seen and they suspected a polyp in my large bowel where the PillCam was stuck. I was urgently referred for a CT scan on the 6 November 2025 after they reviewed the recordings from the PillCam. I was also asked to attend an urgent colonoscopy.

I attended my colonoscopy on a Saturday which I would describe as the easiest of all procedures in my experience. It was 8 November 2025, a day I was meant to be in Paris. I was diagnosed with colorectal cancer that day. After months of waiting and investigations I finally had the answer. The doctor was confident he could tell it was a cancerous tumour which was bleeding and causing anaemia.

For me, the diagnosis itself didn't come as a surprise, given my illness throughout the year. We'd finally arrived at a conclusion. I was relieved. I was worried about being told that I would need a major abdominal surgery to take the tumour out. The report read ‘Colorectal Cancer’ as a diagnosis. Sitting in the ward, reading it with my eyes on a yellow piece of paper gave me chills as I swallowed a cheese sandwich with tea. I felt so many emotions at the same time and yet left the hospital thinking it would be okay. I went for a big meal and double coffees that afternoon at my favourite café.

I called my mother and all my friends as soon as I knew I had cancer. Talking was catharsis! In tears, I also called my manager on a Saturday.

Going into surgery

I first met my colorectal surgeon and colorectal nurse on 20 November 2025 when I consented for keyhole surgery to remove a third of my bowel. I was shown a diagram where my cancer was in my large intestine and was told the risks, complications and the possible side effects.

I had fantastic support from my beloved ones, my employers and neighbourhood. I found humour in little things. I wasn't told if I would need chemotherapy until after the surgery had been undertaken. This made me worried and anxious. My worst nightmare was having a stoma if they were unable to join the two ends of my bowel together. I remember going home with a headache that day. I went to do my pre-op assessment and fitness test the same day. I was declared fit with no risks around smoking, drinking, obesity or even familial history of cancer. It felt unfair and brutal.

I was at least reassured that I was relatively fit and healthy and could take the surgery and treatment well. For me, what felt the most difficult was the waiting game. With uncertainty, confusion and guessing, I had done my own analysis of my future and explored all possible scenarios by chatting with Copilot and listening to patient stories on YouTube. Until I was given all the answers, it felt frustrating at times.

I started writing my story on my social media and was flooded with messages from people who shared their stories too. I found it encouraging and found the courage to write more. I coped with the whole process by lots of swearing, writing and talking to everyone around me. I also welcomed visitors to my home who got me flowers, plants, chocolates and candles.

I had a very reassuring surgery on 11 December 2025. I absolutely hated the bowel preparation each time, but I hoped this would be the final one. It was a four-hour long operation. I remember being in the recovery ward after, not feeling sensation in my legs and having some abdominal discomfort and neck pain — such was the impact of general anaesthesia. I had no stoma, so I was happy. The first thing I asked them for was tea and cake. I started eating straight away and enjoyed meals in the hospital as much as I could. I felt well looked after by the nurses who were very compassionate. I stayed for four days during which my bowels didn't open as expected. I was relieved as soon as I got home. I showered and had a light Wagamama meal.

Looking forward

With stage 2 colorectal cancer and a high anterior resection, after a further MMR analysis I was referred for Lynch Syndrome testing in Birmingham which is likely to be negative. I was declared with no evidence of disease on 31December 2025. They'd managed to remove all evidence of cancer by performing a laparoscopic surgery to remove my cancerous tumour. I grieved the loss of my colon and a part of my rectum as the cancer was found quite low in the tract.

To date, I live with uncertain bowel movements, but it's getting better with time. Mostly I remain grateful that my Nemo didn't lead to chemo. I write everyday about my symptoms, poo movements, food, weight loss and exercise details in a diary.

I hope to return to work soon and enjoy a social life outside of my home. I'm hopeful that with lifestyle changes, hope, determination and faith in God I will remain cancer free for the rest of my life.

Fantastic support

I had phone calls with my colorectal nurses who were fantastic and guided me to follow a low-fibre diet. I also had phone calls with my GP who were very understanding and reassured me about a faster recovery. My surgeon and his team were amazing. I knew I was in safe hands. I was able to crack jokes with them and share chocolates and cookies in the hospital.

My family lives in India and Australia so I had moral support from them. I had incredible support from everyone around me. I couldn’t be grateful enough. My cat Bambi made me heal faster through her incessant purring.

We celebrated Christmas, New Year’s and our birthdays. I shopped for each occasion and bought t-shirts with cancer quotes. My red Christmas t-shirt read: ‘Dear Cancer, I have only two words for you and it is not Merry Christmas.’

My managers have supported me throughout my absence from work. They've also researched about cancer as a disability and how they can support me back in work. I had also passed on my message for my team after my diagnosis and was flooded with messages, visits and gifts from them including potatoes and eggs. I was able to talk, walk, laugh and cry with them. I didn’t feel lonely.

I stumbled upon Bowel Cancer UK’s website when Googling one late night. I scanned the entire website, read about campaigns and fundraising and decided to get involved. I read real life stories of younger people with bowel cancer. I was so glad I wasn't the only one. I read about the very inspiring ‘Bowel Babe’ Dame Deborah James. This gave me more hope, strength and resilience.

I started fundraising for the cause celebrating my joint birthday with Bambi in January. I realised having cancer was not the end of life. It was just a beginning — a new one with more meaning. The charitable work gave purpose to my life experience as a cancer survivor. I also bought a poo hat.

My main message

My message to anyone experiencing cancer is not to be isolated and talk about it without shame or embarrassment. Cancer is life threatening but not a death sentence. It's human to have these experiences in life. Life is enjoying the passage of time, even when it feels difficult and impossible. Be curious about your body and mind, even if it means shitty talk.

Life is all about perspective. If you see it as a fight and a curse, it feels harder. To me it was an extraordinary life experience for which I am incredibly grateful. It brought me back in contact with humans I had left behind, some since childhood. It made me closer to my family, friends, colleagues and neighbours. It got me back in touch with people I'd long lost in a different world. It made me face my own fears and insecurities. It made me face the fear of death. Mostly, it made me experience love in the most profound sense that I'd not known to exist. It's only now I realise why I'm known as Pocket Size Powerhouse.

Cancer as a life experience changed me as a human and as I write my story, I feel proud of how far I've come. As far as Paris is concerned, it has just been rescheduled for another time soon!