My journey through AML and a stem cell transplant

Before I was diagnosed with blood cancer in 2005, I never knew what it was. If I’m honest, I’d always thought cancer was something that only happened to white people. So, it was a total shock when I got the diagnosis.

The hospital team detailed my treatment plan: four cycles of chemotherapy, potential participation in clinical trials, and a litany of side effects that painted a bleak picture. Nausea, hair loss, fatigue, and the possibility of infertility loomed over me, compounding my anxiety and fear.

I had no choice but to trust the medical professionals and God’s plan. Alongside the care and expertise of the medical team and the support of my family and friends, my faith played an important part in my recovery. I turned to the Bible many times during my treatment and drew strength from its words.

This period allowed me to travel to Nigeria, reconnect with my roots, and earn a living, though it came with its own set of challenges. Living through cancer changed me profoundly, affecting every aspect of my life, including my career and emotional well-being.

In 2013, I was fully discharged from regular monitoring and could consider myself cured. But in late 2014, while staying in Nigeria, I noticed a bruise on my wrist that started bleeding. This alarming sign, along with fatigue, headaches and tiredness, led me to get blood tests. The results confirmed my worst fears – the cancer had returned.

The doctor told me to return to the UK immediately to get a comprehensive diagnosis. Back in the UK I had an anxious wait for the results of further tests. When they came, the results confirmed the relapse. The familiar battle with AML was upon me again.

Back when I was first diagnosed in 2005, they had tested my siblings to see if they were a match to donate their stem cells. At that stage I got into remission without needing a stem cell transplant, but now it was looking like my best option. Before the transplant itself I would need chemotherapy and radiotherapy to prepare my body to receive the new cells.

My brother travelled from Nigeria to donate his stem cells. The doctors and nurses were very good, talking to him at length and explaining the process. My brother and I were always close, but this process has brought us closer. Though we have not lived together for 40 years, he lives in Nigeria whilst I moved to the UK in 1984, our relationship has always been close because we talk to each other regularly.

After my first round of chemotherapy, I was transferred to the ambulatory care service at University College London Hospitals (UCLH). Initially the term “ambulatory care” scared me, conjuring images of ambulances and emergency treatment.

In fact, ambulatory care provided a more comfortable, hotel-like setting, significantly enhancing my treatment experience. I stayed in the Cotton Rooms, a hotel for patients having treatment at UCLH, funded by the UCLH charity. I was in a comfortable hotel-like room, with 24/7 access to food and no restrictions on visiting hours. I then had a short walk to the cancer centre for daily treatment.

Despite the comfort of the surroundings, the impending stem cell transplant was looming large. The consultant’s briefing, filled with medical jargon and potential complications like sepsis, graft versus host disease and organ toxicity, played on my mind. But once again, I turned to the Bible for strength and comfort.

For the transplant itself, I moved back to the hospital ward for the final preparations. After weeks of tests, treatment and meetings, the actual infusion of stem cells felt insignificant. It was all over in less than two hours.

The next few days and weeks were fraught with uncertainty. Would my body accept the new cells? Would this be the turning point I needed? I was closely monitored, with multiple blood tests each day to check if the cells were taking hold. Each small victory, each positive sign of progress gave me hope.

My body accepted the new cells without complications. In October 2015 I was discharged from hospital, feeling both strange and apprehensive about life outside hospital. Now I had a new challenge to face: navigating life after treatment.

Adjusting to my new reality was challenging. I didn’t feel like the same person I was before cancer. Fatigue was a constant companion, and I struggled with bouts of depression, compounded by financial worries and the fear that I might relapse again.

I used to visit the Macmillan Cancer Centre at UCLH a lot during this time, just to sit down with a coffee and talk. They arranged for me to have counselling and that helped a lot. They helped me understand that what I was feeling was normal.

During my time in hospital, I noticed a tragic pattern: many patients from ethnic minority backgrounds, like me, suffered more due to a lack of awareness and the scarcity of blood or stem cell donors. This realization inspired me to raise awareness and encourage stem cell donation in these communities.

In 2020 I set up Forward Drive Health, a non-profit organisation dedicated to cancer education, awareness, and support specifically for Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic groups. We work in collaboration with other cancer charities in the UK and with the Bone Marrow Registry of Nigeria to raise awareness, provide seminars, and fundraising in UK and Nigeria. I have also authored a book of my cancer and treatment experience, called Not Unto Death, A True Life Story.

Throughout my journey, the support of family, friends, and the dedicated staff at UCLH was invaluable. They were my anchors, helping me navigate the storm of leukaemia. Their unwavering support, combined with faith and modern medical care, brought me through one of the toughest battles of my life.