Tomorrow, I celebrate my fifth rebirthday. This milestone feels different—more difficult—than the others. Reaching the five-year mark after cancer is usually a time for celebration. It’s a moment when many can breathe a little easier, as it signifies improved survival rates and brings a more profound sense of hope for long-term wellness. But for me, the celebration is bittersweet. My doctors have told me they don’t know how long my transplant will hold. Because it is relapse ALL, there are no certainties. It may last a lifetime, or… it may not. 

You might be thinking, “So what? Anyone could get run over by a bus tomorrow.” And that’s true. But living with the constant awareness of your own fragility is something else entirely. Every time I look in the mirror and see the scars, every time I catch a cold, go for a check-up, or feel an overwhelming exhaustion that stops me in my tracks, there’s always that lingering question—Is it back? That kind of uncertainty takes a toll. It’s not just a fleeting thought; it’s a weight you carry, a quiet battle that never really ends.

Yet, while I may not be able to fully exhale that long-held breath, I do know this: last time around, I didn’t quite make it to the five-year mark. But tomorrow, I will.

This journey has been harder than I ever imagined—harder than I thought I could possibly endure. Yet, here I am. And I’m here not because of anything I did alone, but because of you—my family and friends—and because of my faith.

The road has been tough, but it has shaped me into someone I never could have dreamed of becoming. Five years ago tonight, I wasn’t sure I would see the end of the week. But I was willing to trust—trust in God, trust in the NHS staff who cared for me, and trust in all of you. And somehow, together, we made it through to a place far better than I could have imagined.

This anniversary brings with it painful memories—the people and opportunities I have lost along the way, the heartbreaks that almost broke me completely. And yet… here I am. A minister, in a place I love, surrounded by incredible people I have met along the journey.

I am not the same person I was five years ago. I’m not as young or carefree. I don’t have the same kind of hope I once did. I am not as whole. But I pray that I am stronger. More compassionate. More understanding.

There’s a quote I love: “A disco ball is hundreds of pieces of broken glass put together to make a magical ball of light.” And then the reminder: “You aren’t broken; you are a disco ball.”

That is what I hope to be—not broken, but someone who reflects light into the darkness.

Five years have passed. Here’s to another five, God willing. Let’s see where this journey leads. Thanks for being there with me, you are amazing. Love you xxxx