When doctors gave me devastating news, I feared the worst until a special someone came into my life. By Lisa Gosnay, 43
As I walked into my GP surgery with a glowing tan, my batteries were well and truly recharged after a week in Tenerife.
But I’d arrived home with an unwanted souvenir – a strange rash at the top of
my feet.
‘Have you been wearing tight shoes?’ the doctor asked, as he examined it.
‘No, I’ve been in flip-flops all week,’ I replied.
He didn’t seem concerned, but sent me for a blood test to be sure.
The next day, during work as a senior leader at a school, my phone rang.
‘I’m sorry to tell you this but you’re seriously ill,’ my doctor said. ‘You need to get to hospital right now, they’re expecting you.’
I flung some bits into a bag in a panic and rushed there.
In hospital, I underwent a bone-marrow biopsy and was diagnosed with a condition called aplastic anaemia, a rare and potentially fatal blood disorder.
A month later, I started antibody treatment and a year later, I was finally in remission.
Thrilled to be back to work, I was clocking in 50-hour weeks, but after pulling an all-nighter for an Ofsted inspection, I was exhausted.
‘I think I’ve done myself some damage,’ I told my Mum.
It turned out my instinct was right and by Christmas, I’d relapsed.
Despite blood transfusions and a new drug, doctors told me, ‘You need a stem-cell transplant.’
Tests showed my family members weren’t a match,
so I turned to the Anthony Nolan register, who match people willing to donate their stem cells or bone marrow
to people with blood cancer or blood disorders.
A match was found but the transplant failed, and then another donor fell through.
Thankfully, donor number three was due to go ahead on New Year’s Eve.
I was all ready, but the week before Christmas, I was told it was being delayed.
The only silver lining was that I could go home to Middlesbrough, North Yorkshire, for Christmas Day.
Plus, it meant I’d be reunited with my beloved dog, Raphy.
‘Are you excited to see him?’ my brother, Michael said, as he picked me up from hospital.
‘You bet,’ I replied.
'I've done myself some damage'
In the evening, I stayed with Mum and Dad, my auntie and uncle, and the cousin who’d been taking care of Raphy, arrived.
‘Hello boy,’ I said, as he zoomed towards me.
By Boxing Day, I was back in hospital but on New Year’s Eve,
I couldn’t help but feel grateful.
Everything happens for
a reason, I thought, before pulling on a pair of glittery deely boppers for the Zoom call with my family from my hospital bed.
Finally, a few weeks later, my transplant with a fourth donor went ahead.
I was hooked up to two bags of life-saving stem cells and prayed everything would go smoothly.
The transplant went well and one month later, I was discharged.
I often thought about the person who had saved my life, so on the first anniversary of my transplant, I decided to write a letter to the donor.
It was policy
for donors and recipients to remain anonymous for two years after the transplant, so Anthony Nolan would pass it on anonymously.
I took my pen and wrote, Thank you will never be enough.
Months after I’d sent it, a letter arrived in the post from my donor saying, I’d love to meet you one day.
I felt such a connection to them, that once the two years were up, I asked to find out more about my donor.
We were finally given
each other’s details and I discovered she was called Jess and lived in Merseyside.
When I scrolled through Instagram that night, a ‘follow’ request popped up.
My heart was racing as
I looked at the profile – it was her!
I accepted and read her message, I hope you don’t mind me contacting you.
I absolutely don’t, I tapped out, grinning from ear to ear.
We quickly got on like a house on fire. Jess had a young family that kept her busy, but eventually we made plans to meet up in person.
As I sat in the corner of a pub with Raphy, Jess walked through the door and I began to well up.
‘Oh no, you’ve gone already!’ Jess joked, pulling me in for a hug.
As we chatted over lunch, it felt like we’d known each other forever – I felt so comfortable around her.
Before we knew it, hours had flown by and it was time to say goodbye.
Now, we message regularly and I hope to see her again soon.
I’m still monitored with regular check-ups but I’m so grateful to be in remission once again.
I’ll never be able to thank Jess enough for what she’s done for me, but I’ve also found a friend for life.
● Lisa is donating her fee for this story to Anthony Nolan. For more information, visit anthonynolan.org