“I brought my daughter into the world and took her from him.
I was relieved and sad at the same time as I held Deborah’s hand as she took her last breath. Both her suffering and my sweet girlish whirlwind were gone.
Being the mother of a deceased child is hard every day, but tomorrow is especially hard.
I will forever be a mother of three, despite the death of one of my children. Today, however, I am thinking of my 14 and 16-year-old granddaughters, Eloise and Hugo, who have lost their wonderful mother.
It is unacceptable for them to simply let her hug or send her a message or gift.
All I can do today, as I have done every day for the past 21 months, is love and support them.
Dame Deborah James, my eldest daughter, died five and a half years after being diagnosed with bowel cancer. She was forty.
The fact that the world went on without her is still hard to accept. Even as a young child, she was a natural powerhouse.
Deborah, who was 35 and has two children, aged 7 and 9, was diagnosed in December 2016.
She was an active, healthy young woman who abstained from meat and tobacco. However, she experienced fatigue, bloody stools, and weight loss.
It was quite upsetting to find out she had bowel cancer as it was originally thought to be stress or IBS.
However, I believed that he would recover soon after surgery and chemotherapy.
After several weeks and more tests, I was shocked to learn that the disease had progressed to stage four.
I wasn’t surprised by Deborah’s bravery and determination; she was just who she was.
In addition to managing her own illness, she wanted to help others.
She wanted to raise awareness about cancer, its symptoms, and the importance of listening to your body.
“She wanted the world to be a better place for her children.”
Shortly after learning she had cancer, she began writing a column for The Sun and started the blog Bowelbabe.
She went on to co-host the popular You, Me and Big C podcast, discussing poo whenever she could, and working with The Sun to lower the NHS screening age.
The most important aspect of her life was her children. She wished to improve Hugo and Eloise’s situation. One day, she imagined, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting cancer.
This concept served as the basis for one of her biggest and newest initiatives, the Bowelbabe Fund.
She founded it in the last weeks of her life to fund cancer research and contribute to the development of new treatments for the disease.
She gave it her all because she knew her time was limited.
Yet Deborah’s impact goes far beyond the work she has done and the lives she has saved and continues to save.
Her life advice was the best gift she could give us all.
She made the most of every day and found joy in the little things, and I can see that in her children as well. Both share her enthusiasm and enthusiasm.
The weekend before she died, she advised them to live a nice life.
She said: “You never know when life will end, so enjoy every moment.” I also try to keep this motto in mind.
I tend to procrastinate and save the biggest things for “holidays and rush hour”. Deborah is going to yell at me! On the contrary, she would wear her favorite outfits without any justification.
Since she died, I’ve tried to keep that brave, optimistic mindset.
I try to enjoy every moment more, I wear makeup for no apparent reason and now I wear beautiful earrings like her. I feel more connected to her.
“I hated that I couldn’t ease her pain.
When Deborah was initially diagnosed with colon cancer, she was told she probably wouldn’t survive the next year.
It was hard for me to understand. How I could lose my child in a few months is beyond me.
But with treatment and her own inner strength, Deborah repeatedly overcame obstacles.
She endured a lot, including radiotherapy, chemotherapy, a colonectomy, and numerous combinations of powerful drugs.
She wasn’t going to give up.
Despite being really sick on our last Mother’s Day together in March 2022, Mother still planned to join me for lunch at my house.
I will remember that day forever. She always got better, so I honestly didn’t imagine this would be our last time together.
Deborah was told she only had days to live and there was nothing the doctors could do, so she left The Royal Marsden Hospital in May 2022. At that moment I had to face my greatest fear.
I felt powerless in my role as her mother.
I felt terrible for not being able to ease her suffering.
So she came to live with us. It was a great time for all of us to spend seven weeks with her.
She organized movie nights and an impromptu engagement party for her 33-year-old brother Ben and his fiancée. Prince William even stopped by for tea after Buckingham Palace made her a dame.
It was a special time, full of love, sadness and joy. I will never forget it.
Deborah and I stayed up most nights because we both had trouble falling asleep. We were both afraid he wouldn’t wake up.
“I brought my daughter into the world and took her from him.
I was relieved and sad at the same time as I held Deborah’s hand as she took her last breath. Both her suffering and my sweet girlish whirlwind were gone.
Being the mother of a deceased child is hard every day, but tomorrow is especially hard.
I will forever be a mother of three, despite the death of one of my children. Today, however, I am thinking of my 14- and 16-year-old granddaughters, Eloise and Hugo, who have lost their wonderful mother.
It is unacceptable for them to simply let her hug or send her a message or gift.
All I can do today, as I have done every day for the past 21 months, is love and support them.
Dame Deborah James, my eldest daughter, died five and a half years after being diagnosed with bowel cancer. She was forty.
The fact that the world went on without her is still hard to accept. Even as a young child, she was a natural powerhouse.
Deborah, who was 35 and has two children, aged 7 and 9, was diagnosed in December 2016.
She was an active, healthy young woman who abstained from meat and tobacco. However, she experienced fatigue, bloody stool,s, and weight loss.
It was quite worrying to find out she had bowel cancer as it was originally thought to be stress or IBS.
However, I believed that he would recover soon after surgery and chemotherapy.
After several weeks and more tests, I was shocked to learn that the disease had progressed to stage four.
I wasn’t surprised by Deborah’s bravery and determination; she was just who she was.
In addition to managing her own illness, she wanted to help others.
She wanted to raise awareness about cancer, its symptoms, and the importance of listening to your body.
“She wanted the world to be a better place for her children.”
Shortly after learning she had cancer, she began writing a column for The Sun and started the blog Bowelbabe.
She went on to co-host the popular You, Me and Big C podcast, discussing poo whenever she could, and working with The Sun to lower the NHS screening age.
The most important aspect of her life was her children. She wished to improve Hugo and Eloise’s situation. One day, she imagined, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting cancer.
This concept served as the basis for one of her biggest and newest initiatives, the Bowelbabe Fund.
She founded it in the last weeks of her life to fund cancer research and contribute to the development of new treatments for the disease.
She gave it her all because she knew her time was limited.
Yet Deborah’s impact goes far beyond the work she has done and the lives she has saved and continues to save.
Her life advice was the best gift she could give us all.
She made the most of every day and found joy in the little things, and I can see it in her children as well. Both share her enthusiasm and enthusiasm.
The weekend before she died, she advised them to live a nice life.
She said: “You never know when life will end, so enjoy every moment.” I also try to keep this motto in mind.
I tend to procrastinate and save the biggest things for “holidays and rush hour”. Deborah is going to yell at me! On the contrary, she would wear her favorite outfits without any justification.
Since she died, I’ve tried to keep that brave, optimistic mindset.
I try to enjoy every moment more, I wear makeup for no apparent reason and now I wear beautiful earrings like her. I feel more connected to her.
“I hated that I couldn’t ease her pain.
When Deborah was initially diagnosed with colon cancer, she was told she probably wouldn’t survive the next year.
It was hard for me to understand. How I could lose my child in a few months is beyond me.
But with treatment and her own inner strength, Deborah repeatedly overcame obstacles.
She endured a lot, including radiotherapy, chemotherapy, a colonectomy, and numerous combinations of powerful drugs.
She wasn’t going to give up.
Despite being really sick on our last Mother’s Day together in March 2022, Mother still planned to join me for lunch at my house.
I will remember that day forever. She always got better, so I honestly didn’t imagine this would be our last time together.
Deborah was told she only had days to live and there was nothing the doctors could do, so she left The Royal Marsden Hospital in May 2022. At that moment I had to face my greatest fear.
I felt powerless in my role as her mother.
I felt terrible for not being able to ease her suffering.
So she came to live with us. It was a great time for all of us to spend seven weeks with her.
She organized movie nights and an impromptu engagement party for her 33-year-old brother Ben and his fiancée. Prince William even stopped by for tea after Buckingham Palace made her a dame.
It was a special time, full of love, sadness and joy. I will never forget it.
Deborah and I stayed up most nights because we both had trouble falling asleep. We were both afraid he wouldn’t wake up.