Support our family during the last months of my life.

How I Discovered I Had Cancer:

In mid-August of 2023, I became jaundiced.

I became intensely itchy all over my body, so much so I couldn't sleep.

Bile salts were building up in my skin; something was wrong with my liver or gallbladder, causing too much bilirubin to enter my bloodstream.

I needed an ultrasound to determine the cause.

I began to think:

"Aren't I too young to have liver disease?"

"Did I drink too much? Is this alcohol-related?"

"Surely it's a gallstone blocking a duct, right?"

On August 16th, I went to Cheltenham General Hospital.

"I'm sorry to say you have a mass in your liver; it's pressing on a bile duct."

My heart sank.

I walked home from that appointment and opened the front door, "They found a mass in my liver; I have cancer."

Beth asked in disbelief, "What? How? What does that mean? I don't understand!"

We cried.

This is the next day; this would be the last family day out we had without the severity of my disease looming over our heads.

First Surgery and Diagnosis

Over the next couple of weeks, I had multiple scans to learn more about the location of the mass and the type of disease.

I needed immediate surgical intervention because bilirubin buildup in the bloodstream would cause organ damage and, eventually, failure.

While I waited to find out what my disease was, I grew increasingly yellow and had drains surgically inserted into my liver to drain bile.

Eventually, my skin returned to a normal colour, which would be the start of many hospital stays.

From here on out, I spent weeks in the Surgical Assessment Unit. I became on a first-name basis with many of the staff at the SAU in Gloucester after repeat visits for complications, including one ambulance ride within 24 hours almost immediately after discharge due to severe abdominal pain.

September was a difficult month, and during my first stay, I received the worst news possible.

I was diagnosed with Perihilar Cholangiocarcinoma, or bile duct cancer.

This disease affects about 4 in every 100,000 people.

To put that into perspective, just 2,200 people in England, a country with a population of 56 million people, are diagnosed each year.

Even more shocking is the fact that the average age of diagnosis is 68.5 years old.

I am 34, making me one of the 5% of that 2,200 people diagnosed yearly in our age bracket of 110 people.

So, what are my odds of survival?

Five-year survival rates for bile duct cancer range from 2-24%, depending on several factors.

What Do I Do Now?

This came as a huge blow.

Along with this diagnosis came the realisation that the SAU in Gloucester had done all they could to help me.

From here on out, I would need specialist treatment from surgeons and consultants at Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham.

At this point, my parents put their house on the market and moved across the Atlantic to be closer to us, and my partner's brother moved in to help.

The next step was to meet with a consultant and surgeon in Birmingham.

We anxiously awaited this appointment; we knew how aggressive this disease was and were eager yet scared to begin.

This is us on the day of the consultation.

Our smiles would give way to tears as we discovered the extent of the surgery required and the risks involved.

There was a 15% chance I wouldn't survive the procedure.

I would require 60% of my liver to be removed, my gallbladder, an artery reconstruction, 10 lymph nodes removed, and for my liver to be connected to my intestines.

The consultation took place on the 15th of September, 2023.

My surgery was to take place on October 23rd.

I immediately sat my family down and told them I wanted to spend the next five weeks as if I wouldn't get up off that table.

I wanted to get married.

Beth and I had been together for 10 years and had yet to tie the knot, but we knew that's what we wanted.

We couldn't afford to in the past, and we couldn't do it on our own now, so after mustering the courage to ask, our generous parents agreed to help.

On Friday, October 13th, we made our family whole.

I could now go under the knife, safe in the knowledge I'd said everything I had been keeping in my heart.

We revelled in our unity for the next week before the scariest day of our lives.

October 23rd, 2023 - The Big One

The day finally arrived.

If the worst happened, I made videos for Beth and Ozzy that they could watch afterwards.

I gathered my things, and we set off for QE Birmingham.

From what Beth and my family have told me, it was the longest day of their lives.

The surgery took more than 9 hours, but I made it and was eventually able to share this photo to let everyone know I was alive and well.

What was supposed to be a 2 to 3-week hospital stay turned into 7 weeks.

These were the most excruciating 7 weeks of my life.

Not just the physical pain but the mental and emotional pain of having to endure 7 weeks in isolation an hour away from home was truly the greatest challenge.

In August, I weighed 96kg; at my lowest in the hospital, I reached 76k.

I lost about 20% of my body weight since this had begun and gained a 20-inch scar and several more scars from the various drains and procedures done to address complications post-surgery.

I began to struggle mentally and emotionally in the hospital, away from my family. After much work and pleading with the consultants, they allowed me to be discharged on December 12th.

While I went home with 3 drains that required rigorous daily maintenance, I was finally back with my family and able to spend Christmas with them.

Fast forward to Present Day

The main curative portion of my treatment was intended to be the surgery; however, I would have 5 rounds of adjunct outpatient chemotherapy as a precaution.

This was supposed to be my "insurance policy", and the intention was for it to destroy any remaining cancer cells.

Unfortunately, in July, between my 5th and 6th cycles, I was admitted to Oncology at Cheltenham General Hospital with severe abdominal pain.

A CT scan revealed stranding along the cut face of my liver, meaning the chemotherapy had been unsuccessful and the disease had returned.

My disease is now incurable, and I have been referred to Enhanced Care Services and Palliative Care to manage my pain and ensure a better quality of life as I continue to fight this disease.

As of July 23rd, during a meeting with my Oncologist, Dr Sean Eleyan, at CGH, my prognosis is 6 to 12 months.

While we can hope that because of my age, I respond well to my new course of chemotherapy and buck the trend because the stats are based mainly on people significantly older than I am, I'm taking no chances when it comes to how I spend my time.

I'm starting this GoFundMe campaign to raise funds to help cover the costs of relying on statutory sick pay, pay off debt, pay for treatment outside of the NHS's remit, and alleviate my family's financial stress.

My goal is to provide my family with peace of mind so I may focus on my health and spend quality time with Beth and Ozzy without worrying about financial instability.

I also hope to leave some money behind for Beth and Ozzy so they may put it toward a home deposit and so I can feel secure in knowing they'll have their own patch of green when I'm gone.

No matter how small, every donation will make a significant difference in our lives.

Your contribution will help cover essential expenses:

Beyond financial support, I ask for your prayers, positive thoughts, and encouragement.

I'm a lone wolf, but over the past year, I've realized that I wouldn't be here without the help and support of dozens, if not hundreds, of people.

Your love and support mean the world to me and my family, and I'm deeply grateful for those of you who've spared the time to send me a message of encouragement.

Please consider donating to this campaign, but perhaps even more importantly, please consider sharing it with your network.

I offer you my sincerest thanks.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Matthew