Before I get into the details, let me say this: I’m not a doctor or a medical professional. I’m just someone who’s been through bowel cancer (also known as colorectal cancer) and lived with ulcerative colitis, and I want to share my story with you — openly and honestly.
If you’re reading this because you’re worried about your own health, or you’re just curious, I hope this gives you some perspective, maybe even some comfort. I know how scary it can feel when things don’t seem right with your body.
How It All Started: The Symptoms I Ignored
Thinking back, my symptoms started all the way back in 2013. Like many guys, I brushed them off. Life was hectic, I was stressed, and frankly, who really wants to go to the doctor to talk about toilet habits?
I noticed:
My stools occasionally had a slight shade of pink — which, looking back, was blood, though I didn’t recognise it at the time.
Changes in bowel habits.
A general sense that something just wasn’t quite right.
By 2014 to 2015, I was constantly tired. Properly drained. Some days, I’d break into random sweats — not just a light perspiration, but proper soak-through-your-suit sweats in the middle of the day. Nights weren’t much better — I’d wake to find my pillow and sheets soaked. Yet despite all that, I didn’t feel ill in the usual sense.
I decided to get a full private health check-up: blood tests, ECG, the works. Everything came back normal. Green lights all the way. So I convinced myself, *"See? I’m fine. Just stress."
But deep down, I knew something was off.
By late 2016, I was going to the toilet 12 to 16 times a day, yet I never felt done. Most trips were just a few drops of blood. And that nagging feeling of still needing to go? That was always there.
That’s when I first learned the term tenesmus — that relentless sensation of needing to poo even when your bowel is empty. I didn’t know it back then, but it’s common with colorectal cancer symptoms, particularly when a tumour is blocking things up.
Then came the lower left side abdominal pains. Sharp, intense — I’d be mid-task and suddenly bent over, clutching myself until it passed. I later discovered that was food waste scraping against the tumour, triggering pain and bleeding.
The Ulcerative Colitis Diagnosis
Eventually, while working abroad, I sought help. The hospital put me under general anaesthetic and ran cameras top-down and bottom-up. That’s when they told me: ulcerative colitis (UC).
At first, that made sense. I even found some comfort in it when I later learned my cousin also had UC.
I was prescribed:
Pentasa (Mesalazine) tablets
Mesalazine foam enemas
Salofalk rectal foam
Prednisolone steroids
I tried to follow the best ulcerative colitis treatment they recommended, but the improvements were minor and short-lived. The symptoms came back — worse. More blood, more urgency, more exhaustion.
And here’s the scary part: ulcerative colitis symptoms can mimic colorectal cancer symptoms. For me, the inflammation from UC masked the underlying bowel cancer.
Back to the UK and a Reality Check
By late 2016, I’d had enough. Back in the UK, I saw a colorectal specialist, which led to a colonoscopy. And here’s the thing: colonoscopies usually aren’t bad. But I had mine without anaesthetic or relaxant — and with a tumour in place, it was excruciating. I gripped the bed, cried, begged for it to stop.
If I can give one piece of advice here — take the sedative if offered. Especially if there’s any suspicion of a tumour.
Afterwards, they brought me tea. Never a good sign in hospitals. Then came the words:
“We’ve found a tumour and it’s suspected bowel cancer.”
I can’t really describe the feeling. I was numb. A few days later, I went into what I call fix mode. My brain processed it and said, "Okay, this is the situation. What do we do to fix it?" I also accepted that depending on the stage of cancer, I might have 6 to 12 months left.
Treatment Options and Decisions
The consultant laid out three options:
Remove the section of colon where the tumour was — but high risk of recurrence, especially with UC.
Remove the entire colon.
Or go all in: pan proctocolectomy — removing colon and rectum, so there’s nowhere for cancer or colitis to return.
I chose the third. I didn’t want to go through this again. The tests, the chemotherapy, the endless uncertainty — once was enough.
To my great relief, biopsies showed the cancer hadn’t spread to my lymph nodes (N0) or anywhere else.
Surgery, Stoma and Adaptation
Within two weeks of my diagnosis, I was on the operating table for a temporary ileostomy.
Waking up and seeing the stoma bag? It was surreal. There’s no way to prepare for seeing waste coming out of your abdomen. It felt alien. But it was part of me now, and I had to adapt.
Within a few weeks, I started experiencing phantom bowel sensations — or as my nurses called it, "ghost poos". My body kept telling me I needed to sit on the toilet like normal. The trick? Grab a phone or magazine, sit, relax the muscles, and after about 20 minutes, the feeling would pass. A few months later, these sensations stopped altogether.
I still smile thinking that I haven’t had a traditional poo since March 2017. 😉
After my first chemo cycle, I had the eight-and-a-half-hour surgery to remove the tumour. I asked them to play 80s music in the theatre — Spandau Ballet and the like. A small comfort.
During that surgery, they converted the temporary ileostomy into a permanent ileostomy.
Chemotherapy and Recovery
About eight weeks after the ileostomy, I started my first round of chemotherapy — the FOLFOX chemotherapy regimen, every two weeks via a PICC line in my right arm.
The first couple of months went okay. No nausea, no hair loss. But then came the cold sensitivity — the slightest breeze gave me pins and needles. Gloves and a mask became my best friends.
Post major surgery, I had eight weeks to recover before starting my final round of chemotherapy, aimed at mopping up any lingering cancer. It was supposed to last six months, but after three, I developed tingling in my toes and fingertips — signs the body had had enough. My oncologist agreed we should stop.
Reflections: What I Wish I’d Known
If you’re noticing bowel cancer symptoms like changes in your stool, persistent urges, or blood — even just pinkish — please don’t ignore them. Whether it’s ulcerative colitis, colorectal cancer, or something else entirely, early diagnosis is everything.
Your body has a way of telling you when something’s wrong. Listen to it.
If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading my story. I’ll be sharing more about living with a stoma, how I adjusted to a permanent ileostomy, and what life after bowel cancer looks like.
This is just my experience, not medical advice. If you’re worried, speak to your doctor.