I’ll never forget the day my life irrevocably changed—November 7, 2019.
From that moment on, my existence divided into two chapters: the time before bowel cancer (BBC) and the uncertain journey that followed. As we pulled away from the hospital, sitting in the car, a heavy silence settled over us.
The diagnosis hung in the air like a dense fog I couldn’t shake. A well-dressed gastrointestinal surgeon had just delivered the blow: a malignant tumor in my colon, with cancer already spreading to my liver.
The words “stage-four bowel cancer” echoed endlessly in my mind, shattering the future I had always taken for granted, leaving it fragile and terrifyingly uncertain.
As we left the hospital parking lot, the weight of the news pressed down on both me and my husband. That date—November 7, 2019—is etched forever in my memory. Everything before that day? It was simply life as I knew it. After that, everything changed.
Just minutes earlier, I had slumped forward in despair, hiding my face in my hands as the surgeon spoke words I’d dreaded. The biopsy confirmed that the large mass discovered in my colon was cancerous. Even worse, the CT scans showed it had already spread to my liver.
“This is stage-four bowel cancer,” he said quietly, trying to soften the blow as the weekend loomed. “But it’s treatable—don’t lose hope.”
I later learned that some people beat the odds, achieving remission despite this grim stage. But in that moment, fear consumed me. Christmas was just weeks away. Would it be my last? What about the kids? Their ages—nine and eleven—made the thought unbearable.
Driving home to Melbourne, I frantically searched my phone: “What causes bowel cancer?”
The more I read, the more confused I became. I was 44—not over fifty, which is more typical. I was only slightly overweight, not obese. I’d never smoked. My family history was clear of bowel cancer. My diet was mostly wholesome—vegetables, fruits, legumes, oats. Alcohol was a rare indulgence, a glass or two of pinot noir on Fridays.
So why me? Why now?
“Seriously?” I muttered, breaking the silence in the car.
Determined for answers, I dived deeper, discovering a wealth of research linking processed and red meats—like bacon, frankfurters, and salami—to increased cancer risk.
Though I hadn’t been a heavy consumer, the memories came flooding back—brunches with crispy bacon, the occasional dash of bacon in soups, holiday traditions slicing into a large gammon leg, and those grilled sausages on white bread from quick grocery runs.
Could these seemingly innocent treats have contributed to my diagnosis?
I couldn’t be sure. But the thought haunted me—the idea that I may have unknowingly played a part in this devastating illness, affecting not only my life but my family’s.
As a journalist, I couldn’t ignore the facts I uncovered. It felt like a story the meat industry wanted buried. For example, a massive study tracking nearly half a million people found that consuming large amounts of processed meat increased risks—not only for cancer but also heart disease.
In 2015, the World Health Organization classified processed meats as carcinogenic—placing them in the same danger category as asbestos and tobacco.
Just 50 grams daily—about a sausage, two ham slices, or a few rashers of bacon—raised the risk of colon cancer by 18%.
In the UK alone, processed meats are linked to 13% of the 44,000 new bowel cancer cases diagnosed each year.
Even more alarming: bowel cancer rates among younger adults (25 to 49) in the UK have surged by almost 50% since the 1990s. Yet, bacon sandwiches remain a staple.
The Dark Side of Preservatives in Processed Meats
Curing meat with salt is an ancient technique, but today, artificial preservatives like sodium nitrite are widely used to keep processed meats fresh longer, prevent bacterial growth, and maintain that appealing pink hue.
Sodium nitrite is a crystalline, odorless powder that dissolves easily. It’s added directly or dissolved in brine, sometimes called “pickle” in the food industry.
What shocked me is that this chemical is also found in products like car antifreeze, corrosion inhibitors, some medicines, dyes, and insecticides.
Nitrites alone aren’t carcinogenic, but when they combine with the proteins in meat during processing or digestion, they form harmful compounds called nitrosamines.
These nitrosamines damage DNA, cause mutations, and can trigger cancer—particularly in the gut lining.
Despite these risks, food manufacturers resist removing nitrites because without them, processed meats spoil quickly, lose color, and become unsafe for transport and sale.
Fighting Back and Finding Hope
After my diagnosis, I endured months of grueling treatment: radiation, chemotherapy, and four surgeries. Still, the cancer kept returning.
By early 2024, options were dwindling. A liver transplant—once experimental for this condition—was offered.
Despite the risks, I agreed. I waited anxiously for months, ready to rush to the hospital at a moment’s notice.
Then, one warm evening, the call came. A liver had arrived by private jet from another state. While one family mourned, I was given a second chance.
The nine-hour surgery started within hours. When I woke up, still on a ventilator, doctors assured me the operation had gone well.
This journey has been harrowing, but it’s also been a battle for life, for hope, and for the chance to see another Christmas with my children.
I was officially cancer-free, with a new liver working smoothly inside me. In quiet moments, I found myself thinking of my donor and their family—grateful beyond words for this second chance at life.
The months that followed were anything but easy. Hospital visits for infections and other complications tested my strength. Yet, through it all, I held onto gratitude—for every breath, every step forward.
Processed beef? I can’t even stomach it anymore. Its smell and sight now trigger nausea, a visceral reminder of the pain cancer brought into my world.
My husband and kids gave up processed meats too. At first, they missed their pepperoni pizza nights, but once I shared the real risks behind those foods, their resistance faded.
Thankfully, nitrite-free alternatives like Finnebrogue Naked Bacon are starting to appear on shelves. Still, these options remain niche—just a small corner of a vast market dominated by products loaded with preservatives.
The harsh truth? Food companies won’t eliminate nitrites on their own. It’s simply not profitable enough. That responsibility falls to governments—to enforce tougher regulations, mandate clear warning labels, and lead public health efforts.
Consumers can also wield power by cutting back on processed meats and choosing cleaner, preservative-free products. Just as free-range eggs surged in popularity thanks to public demand, nitrite-free meats need the same support to become mainstream.
I’m incredibly lucky to be here, but every year, countless others die from colon cancer—often linked to the very foods we eat without question. This is a crisis we cannot ignore.
My diagnosis reshaped my entire existence. Facing stage-four bowel cancer at 44 forced me to confront the hidden dangers lurking in processed meats and their preservatives—dangers many of us overlook or prefer not to face.
The path through treatment and ultimately a liver transplant was grueling, but it gave me a powerful purpose: to shine a light on the risks of processed meats and push for meaningful change in food policies.
Despite overwhelming evidence linking processed meats to serious illnesses like bowel cancer, these products continue to flood the market, promoted and consumed worldwide. Awareness alone isn’t enough—we need governments to act decisively, with stricter regulations, prominent warning labels, and broad public health campaigns.
Meanwhile, each of us can make safer choices: eat less processed meat, seek out nitrite-free alternatives, and demand better transparency.
I am grateful to have survived, but too many don’t. Together, through informed choices and collective action, we can turn the tide on bowel cancer and build a healthier future for generations to come.