Meet Simone

In 2018, a brain scan for persistent migraines unexpectedly led to my diagnosis with the blood cancer, myeloma.

I was only in my 30s, young for this cancer, and suddenly in a world where no one looked like me. It’s true, illness takes the person you used to recognise and replaces them with a stranger. Accepting that new reality took courage I didn’t know I had.

When treatment was on the horizon, I channelled my fear into action, tidying the house, buying cushion covers, and picking cute chemo outfits. But as I'm an Afro-Caribean woman, one of my first questions was, “Will I lose my hair?”

At first, the texture changed, becoming softer and curlier. Then, after high-dose chemo before my stem cell transplant, it began falling out in handfuls. Eyebrows, eyelashes, even nostril hair vanished. I felt like an expressionless egg.

I decided not to hide from it.

Telling people about my diagnosis brought varied reactions - tears, blunt questions, or awkward silence. Humour helped. I was honest with children, letting them see me bald so it wasn’t scary. I let them touch my head, massage it, even paint it with glitter while I dressed as a unicorn. It turned something frightening into something joyful. Six months later, my hair began to grow back, and the children proudly claimed credit.

I still miss the woman I was before myeloma. My appearance matters less now, but I do struggle with body image. On hard days, I remind myself that my body carried me through treatment; that’s strength worth loving.

Cancer reshapes your relationships and your identity. You have to grieve the version of yourself you’ve lost, while finding strength in the one who’s emerged.

That takes courage, every single day.

Return to the We Know What it Takes webpage to read more stories.