“She Thought It Was Just Perimenopause — But It Was Stage 3 Bowel Cancer”
When Laura Dawson began feeling bloated and exhausted, she chalked it up to hormonal shifts—part of what she believed was a natural transition into perimenopause. At 44, a mother of two, she was busy juggling life and didn’t think much of it. Supplements, rest, and resilience got her through the early weeks.
But then came the night everything changed.
The pain was sudden. Sharp. Unrelenting. Her husband Ben rushed her to the hospital, not realizing they were about to step into a nightmare neither of them saw coming. Emergency surgery revealed a bowel obstruction, and while the operation itself went smoothly, the biopsy results delivered a devastating blow: Laura had stage 3 bowel cancer.
Hope, Then Heartbreak
That spring, Laura began chemotherapy. For a while, things looked promising. “We actually let ourselves breathe again,” Ben recalls. “Her scan in August was clear. We thought—maybe—we’d made it through the worst.”
But cancer doesn’t always follow a straight line. A month later, it came back. This time, more aggressive, more widespread.
“It felt like the floor fell out from under us,” Ben says.
Laura gave everything she had to fight it. She endured more rounds of treatment, but her body began to falter. After long discussions, she made a brave and loving decision: to stop treatment and spend whatever time remained surrounded by the people who mattered most.
Living in the Final Chapter
Laura’s final weeks were not spent in fear or regret. With support from St Christopher’s Hospice, she remained at home as long as possible—where laughter mingled with tears, and where life, even in its fragility, felt intensely present.
“She was still Laura,” Ben says. “Still cracking jokes. Still holding our hands. Still loving us.”
Eventually, when her condition worsened, she moved into the hospice. There, wrapped in compassion and grace, she passed away peacefully on June 29, with Ben holding her hand.
Facing Death With Courage and Clarity
Laura didn’t fear death the way many do. In fact, she spoke openly about it—a decision that helped both her and her family find peace.
“Some of the happiest days of my life have been in these final weeks,” she once told a friend. “When you stop pretending death isn’t coming, you actually start living.”
She embraced each moment with purpose. Walks with her sons. Quiet talks with Ben. Cups of tea with friends. These small, ordinary acts took on new, extraordinary meaning.
A Family’s Love, Unfiltered
Honesty became their foundation. Jacob and Theo, her two sons, aged 17 and 15, were part of the journey from day one.
“We didn’t shield them from the truth,” Ben says. “We believed in preparing them, not protecting them from pain. That honesty—it helped all of us cope.”
Before she passed, Laura made sure her boys would have something to hold onto. She gifted them keepsakes, like the one Ben gave her when they got engaged. “She wanted them to know she’d thought of their futures. Their weddings. Their milestones. She’ll be there—in spirit and in memory.”
Choosing Light in the Darkness
Despite the heartbreak, Laura’s legacy is not defined by tragedy.
“She didn’t wallow,” Ben says. “She focused on what she had. Even in those final weeks, she saw beauty everywhere.”
One of her favorite sayings became a mantra:
“Some people see the glass half full, others half empty. I’m just grateful to have a glass.”
And that, perhaps, was Laura’s quiet superpower—the ability to find meaning, even in suffering.
She Was My Person
Ben speaks of their 24-year relationship with reverence. From the moment they met, he knew.
“She lit up every room,” he says. “She could talk to anyone—warm, genuine, disarming. She was my best friend. My partner. My person.”
He doesn’t shy away from the pain of her absence, but he also doesn’t run from the beauty of what they shared.
“She knew she was loved. And we knew we were loved by her. That’s what carries us now.”
In the End, A Beginning
Laura Dawson’s story is a heartbreaking, beautiful reminder of what it means to truly live. Her life was cut far too short, but in her final months, she redefined courage—not as a fight against death, but as an embrace of life.
She left behind a family steeped in love, a legacy of honesty, and a powerful message: that even in our most fragile moments, we can find meaning, grace, and connection.
And though she’s no longer here physically, Laura’s light remains—in the lives she touched, the lessons she shared, and in the hearts of those who will carry her memory forward.