Leaving Basingstoke, I received a call within a day, informing me of the date of my operation. It was set for November 1st, 2023, but they needed me to arrive two days earlier for preparations ahead of what was to be the mother of all surgeries.
With the date now fixed, I felt a semblance of relief—a plan was in place, and things were moving swiftly to rid my body of this relentless cancer. Though the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, I knew I had no choice but to press on.
In the weeks leading up to the surgery, I diligently followed medical advice: plenty of protein and exercise to bolster my strength. Daily sessions on the exercise bike became my routine, each push of the pedal a silent vow to endure what lay ahead.
Amidst the chaos, I carved out moments with my partner and our faithful dog. Christmas shopping took on new significance, as I sought to leave behind tokens of love should the worst come to pass. It may sound irrational, but when faced with the specter of extensive surgery, one seeks solace in the tangible.
Walking into that ward, I found solace in the knowledge that I was in the best hands possible. Surrendering myself to my surgeon and the caring nurses, I embarked on the first steps of what would be the most challenging journey of my life.
The following day, Eviction Day, dawned with a mix of dread and determination. As I stood beneath the shower's steady stream, I couldn't shake the thought that this might be my final morning—a stark reminder of the stakes at hand.
Joined by my partner, we shared a moment of quiet resolve before the inevitable separation. As the hour approached, fear threatened to overwhelm me, but his steadfast reassurance provided a much-needed anchor.
At 7:25 am, the nurse arrived, signaling that it was time. With a heavy heart, I bid farewell to familiar comforts and stepped into the unknown, clinging to a teddy bear as a tangible reminder of love amidst the sterile surroundings.
In the operating room, tears flowed freely as I confronted my deepest fears. Yet amidst the chaos, a sense of calm descended—a silent acknowledgment that I was in capable hands, and I would endure.
Days blurred into nights as I drifted between consciousness and oblivion. Then, on November 2nd, a faint touch and distant voices signaled my return to the realm of the living—a survivor of the ultimate ordeal.
Recovery was a journey fraught with challenges, yet each milestone affirmed the resilience of the human spirit. From blood transfusions to the reassuring words of nurses, every moment marked a triumph over adversity.
As I wheeled back into the familiar corridors, greeted by the cheers of dedicated healthcare professionals, I knew that I had emerged from the crucible of suffering forever changed. Grateful for the tireless efforts of my medical team and the unwavering support of loved ones, I embarked on the path to healing—a testament to the indomitable will to survive.
Faye Louise from West Sussex, England was diagnosed with a rare type of Appendix Cancer after having cramps from what she thought was her menstral cycle. Faye has been Fighting Pretty through her experience and shares story to provide hope and strength to all women diagnosed with cancer. As a model, flight dispatcher and fierce fighter, Faye is truly a bright light in this world.
To learn more and continue to be inspired by Faye, follower her on Instagram at: @faye.louiseuk