About this blog

This blog documents the story of our family after our daughter Yasmin was diagnosed with leukaemia when she was two years old, just six weeks after our son Isaac was born. Now, four, Yasmin finished all her treatment for acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL) in October 2014 and she had her port out - marking the end of her treatment in February this year. The first post can be found here or you can read how my husband Andrew and I felt when we got the diagnosis and when Yasmin started the most intense phase of treatment. The main purpose of the blog is to raise awareness of childhood leukaemia and its impact on families and to raise money for the different charities that have supported us during the most difficult of times. We have helped to raise £33,000 for charity so far, including £30,000 for Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital where Yasmin is undergoing treatment and £2000 for Haven House hospice. This year Andrew and I will hike Ben Nevis for Children with Cancer. Anyone wishing to donate can do so at our fundraising page here. You can get more information on Facebook or you can follow me on Twitter here. The blog and our fundraising efforts regularly feature in national newspapers and magazines while the BBC has covered our fundraising here and ITV here.

Language Settings

HERE ARE OUR LANGUAGE SETTINGS (more Japanese to follow): EN |  JA

Friday, 28 August 2015


Yasmin is lying in the shallow of the pool. Her long limbs, brown from the sun, are half-immersed in the water, her expression is ecstatic.
Over drinks at the disco in our Spanish holiday resort, Andrew admits that watching Yasmin enjoying the sensations of the sun and the water took him straight back to hospital. Images flashed through his mind, like photographs. Yasmin, passed out in pain, her long curls matted to her sweaty head, hours after we got the leukaemia diagnosis. Her hair straggly and her body fat and swollen like a Michelin man after five weeks of steroids. Her face pale and gaunt, looking close to death, as the most intense chemotherapy took hold.
It is our first family summer holiday abroad in three years. The first since Isaac was born and Yasmin got sick. We have booked for two weeks, knowing it will take us almost a week to even start to relax after three years of cancer treatment – three summers filled with horror and emergency hospital dashes.
In the months since Yasmin had her port removed, I have noticed that those moments of release when something horrendous ends, do not come at the expected times. There was no great relief at the final dose of chemotherapy or after the port was removed – which felt anti-climactic. Instead of one huge release, the feelings of relief are coming out in gasps and splutters.
On stage at the disco
Driving to pick Yasmin up from school on her birthday, July 1, to take the kids swimming, on the hottest day of the year, I was suddenly aware that for the first time in four summers Yasmin was not in hospital on her birthday, and we were going swimming, an activity we had dropped because of the infections she kept picking up. The realization that we were able to simply enjoy her birthday took me by surprise. I was suddenly crying, huge, uncontrollable sobs of relief that had been held in for months.
Yasmin with her holiday hair
The first such moment of the holiday comes five days in as Andrew and I watch Yasmin and Isaac dancing on the stage to the theme tune of our summer holiday: Fireball. I cannot stop the tears of happiness and pride. Later, Andrew is holding Yasmin close, as he used to do when she was having to endure a painful procedure, but now there is nothing to protect her from. Evident in his eyes are the relief, the love, the knowledge that we came close to never having such moments.
Like father, like son
Of course, during the holiday, there are tears and arguments, children fighting, kids refusing to go in the mini club so we can have a break, but mostly there is laughter, sunshine, delight in learning to swim underwater, ice cream, and dancing.
Yasmin’s highlight is her hair being long enough to be swept back into twelve tiny plaits just like all the other little girls at our holiday resort. I cannot stop staring at my beautiful daughter. Smiling, she says she doesn’t like having scraggy hair and she wants to keep it like this. I am reminded how much the hair loss has bothered her and played a large part in her loss of confidence.
View from the balcony

The best day of the holiday is the day before we leave. We take the children to a water park. There are no arguments and the kids spend the day splashing in the pools, waterfalls and a pirate ship, getting more confident in the water. Andrew and I later realise that this magical day is the three year anniversary of the worst day of our lives – being told that Yasmin had cancer.
On the last day, looking out from our balcony at the magnificent view of the sea and blue skies, I realise that three years ago this day Yasmin was having her first chemotherapy. Immediately I am in tears. I have to hide in the bathroom so that the children don’t see me sob it all out.  I think about how much I longed for a family holiday such as this one over these past awful summers. These memories will never leave me. They are a part of me now and a part of who we all are as a family. But the holiday has been everything I could have imagined. I feel, in some small way, healed. I am starting to believe that the horror is really over.

Tuesday, 25 August 2015


I’ve recently been interviewed for a series of videos for a research project funded by Children With Cancer UK which aims to help parents of children diagnosed with leukaemia.
This is one of the videos where I talk about getting back to 'normal' after Yasmin's treatment for acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL). If you're wondering why Margate seems to be a dream trip for me...I had just written about it for work and was therefore thinking it would be nice to go. Of all the places I could have mentioned in this video!
The HELP study (Harmonising Information about Leuakemia for Parents ) is an internet based resource for parents of children with ALL.  This three-year project using participatory design to create and evaluate the website is funded by Children with Cancer UK and is run by Professor Faith Gibson at London South Bank University. The website is currently undergoing usability testing with parents to see what they think of the resource. For more information on the project please contact: Dr Gemma Bryan (gemma.bryan@lsbu.ac.uk).
I will post another one soon. Let me know what you think!

Monday, 13 July 2015


Near the top of Ben Nevis
We did it! Andrew and I climbed Ben Nevis at the end of May – just one year late for me after I was unable to do it last year.  I wrote the following piece for the Independent before we set off.
Team Climb with Ed before setting off
We’ve raised £3,500 for Children with Cancer UK while the entire group – 60 people hiking with ten-year-old Ed and his family – have raised almost £50,000 (including gift aid) for the charity which will go directly into researching treatments for relapsed leukaemia.
You can read all about Ed and his family and see why he has been such an inspiration to everyone here.
Andrew and I on the way up
We were hiking with Linda Robson, Kaye Adams and Nadia Sawalha, all regular Loose Women presenters – which meant our group was accosted all the way up and down by fans wanting selfies.
With Nadia Sawalha and Kaye Adams 
We took about four hours to the top and three hours down. Weather conditions have not been great this year and at the top the snow was compacted as it would be in January, according to our guide, but we were lucky to set off on the one day in the week when it wasn’t raining which meant we had beautiful views all the way to the top – or as far as our guide would permit us due to the treacherous conditions. 
Andrew had to make a newspaper deadline on the way down and although we set off walking (or running down) together - he had to go on ahead of me as I couldn't keep up with him. This is despite the fact Andrew did zero training and I had been going regularly to the gym to get in shape.
There are a lot of cobbles and big boulders to scramble over and the last hour was particularly painful but I really enjoy pushing myself physically. Despite it being a hard walk, I was surprised at how many children were walking up – some in wellies!
As a man with calves as thick as tree trunks ran up and down past me for a third time I called out “How many times is that?” “Four,” he grunted, not altering his pace as I looked on in shattered amazement, wondering if he was real or a robot.
Perhaps the best bit of the weekend was the celebration party in the hotel afterwards where Ed presented everyone with a certificate to mark our achievement  and a fair few drinks were had. Andrew and I were very happy to meet up with Ajay who I had persuaded to join us after getting to know him and his wife at the Great Ormond Street Ball. 
With Ajay near the top
He came along with his friend Alan and both were fantastic company. 
Well done everyone for a fantastic achievement! What’s the next challenge?

Saturday, 23 May 2015


Just a week to go before Andrew and I attempt to climb Ben Nevis (1,344m) for Children with Cancer UK. Support us here!

When we were told that Yasmin had cancer our consultant told us the 'good news' - that acute lymphoblastic leukaemia (ALL) is the most curable childhood cancer which gave Yasmin an excellent prognosis. (The bad news was the treatment would last between two and three years).

ALL used to be a death sentence with only one in ten surviving but this is now reversed with nine in ten surviving. This is because of the money that has poured into leukaemia research since the 1970s and 1980s. Cricket hero Ian Botham started his mammoth walks across the country to raise funds after a group of kids with leukaemia that he had met in hospital died. Many other people have dedicated time, effort and brilliance into finding a cure.

Isaac and Yasmin show me how it's done
Money raised for research goes directly into saving lives and for improving outcomes for children like Yasmin. Children with Cancer UK fund all kinds of trials including one currently underway trying to find ways of bringing the ALL cure rate up to 100%. They are also targeting cancers where the prognosis is currently not so good.

As many of you know, I was supposed to hike Ben Nevis last year but got sick with pneumonia due to the stress of dealing with Yasmin's cancer treatment while caring for baby Isaac. Instead Team Gosh, organised by my parents along with Greer who was fundraising with me for Haven House, completed the trek to the top and back down again - taking between eight to ten hours for the 16 mile walk.

This year Andrew and I are hiking Ben Nevis with ten-year-old Ed Gordon-Thomson, who like Yasmin, was diagnosed with ALL when he was two. You can read all about Ed and his family here. Joining us on the Climb with Ed are Loose Women presenters: Linda Robson, Nadia Sawalha and Kaye Adams and wildlife presenter Nigel Marven – so we imagine it will be quite a riotous few days! Already the Climb With Ed team has smashed our target of £20,000 – let us make that even higher!

I have been training quite hard for the past two months, but we have been warned that the weather conditions are very challenging at the moment which doesn’t inspire confidence.
But we are determined to do it!

Sunday, 26 April 2015


August 2012, Great Ormond Street
This photograph was taken by Andrew two days after Yasmin had been diagnosed with leukaemia and when Isaac was just six weeks old. We came across it the other day when Andrew was sorting through pictures showing everything we have been through. This is August 2012, and we were living at Great Ormond Street. I don’t recall having seen this picture before but when I saw it the other week, I immediately broke down in tears.
For me, this picture absolutely encapsulates the chaos of the first few months after Isaac’s birth with Yasmin seriously ill and starting intensive chemo treatment. I was pulled in two by the all-encompassing needs of a new-born and a seriously ill child.
Here I am breastfeeding one baby while trying to comfort the other and I am smiling. I imagine Andrew has just made a joke.
This was a time when I never got more than 45 minutes uninterrupted sleep and that went on for months and months and so of course, I look exhausted.
People often say to Andrew and I: “I don’t know how you did it, we would have just fallen apart,” and this always makes me feel that they imagine when you face something like childhood cancer you collapse to the floor and flail around shouting “Why me? Why my child?” And certainly, this does happen, from time to time, inside your brain, but never outwardly.
When you are responsible for two small children you cannot fall apart. You keep going. You smile and make jokes and make everything appear normal, even huge needles stuck in small hands, retching and orange medicines, hair falling out in clumps and living in hospitals where strange men and women in blue come in every hour to check and listen and prod. You see the same smiles on the faces of all parents in child cancer wards.
A few weeks ago, when I looked at this mother in the picture with her new baby in her arms, and pale gaunt child by her side, I felt desperately sad and so sorry for her, that she didn’t get to spend those joyful hours and days just breathing in the scent of her baby’s skin, his hair, trying to tease out that first smile, grasping his tiny fingers.  Instead the world outside this hospital room almost ceased to exist and every day was about survival.
I also felt no relief at the end of treatment. We had a lovely party for Yasmin’s End of Treatment a couple of weeks ago complete with cake and candles with everyone singing: “Happy End of Treatment Party to you…”
Of course, we are delighted that the treatment is all over and that we have two perfect, healthy happy children, ours to nurture and grow. But there are times when I still feel as though I am carrying three years stress around and it has not yet been released. I am half expecting this to happen at the most inappropriate time, like a valve suddenly opening – whoosh. Perhaps instead it is on slow release, coming out gradually, such as when I saw this picture.

A few weeks have passed since I first looked at this picture and I have enjoyed a wonderful Easter holiday with the kids. Today, I look at this picture and feel differently. For although it still makes me sad, I also feel proud. For I see resilience and strength and the love and unity of a happy family. Besides, I am no longer the mother in that picture. I am no longer the mother of a child with cancer. Just look at us now.

Gruffalo Trail, April 2015