By Damian Knowles, bowel cancer survivor and marathon runner
Before I was diagnosed with bowel cancer, I didn’t really know anything about the disease. My main experience of cancer was when my Nonna went through lung cancer but I was only young at the time. My only other experience was watching my best friend deal with his dad’s journey and that was awful. He would talk about how all-encompassing the experience was, and it doesn’t matter who you are, it’s going to affect one in two of us. This number scared me. As a father of four boys, it was awful thinking three of my family were statistically likely to be affected.
I’ve always been active, and I enjoyed doing challenge events to raise money for charity. In September 2023, I took part in a nighttime walking marathon through London for a cancer charity. I dressed up in a tutu for the event and had to keep fighting the urge to run it! I kept getting told off for running, so I started dancing instead.
It was good fun, but after the event I had a strong pain in my stomach that felt like a lump. I went to A&E and was told I probably tore my stomach muscles while dancing around London with a heavy backpack (and tutu!) on.
I rested but the lump stayed there, and within a week I noticed blood in my stools. I went back to A&E but the doctor still thought this was because of a torn muscle. The doctor offered to do a physical exam but the way he asked it put me off, so I sent off a poo sample to be tested instead. I got a call to say the test didn’t work properly and I needed to do another one, but my symptoms had calmed, so I ignored it and kept going.
On Christmas Day the pain was really bad and after a couple of days I was back in A&E. I was given intravenous treatment and a CT Scan and the doctors ruled out diverticulitis, and thought it might be ulcerative colitis. I was then booked to have a colonoscopy, but had to wait eight weeks for this to take place, which revealed a huge lump they couldn’t get past. I was told then and there it was an 80% chance it was cancer. The next day, I got a call from a stoma nurse talking about my plan to take my case to the surgeons and I broke down and cried. I couldn’t stop thinking about my four boys and the fact I hadn’t had enough time with them, especially my five-year-old.
It was stage three bowel cancer. I needed an operation, but had to have tests and scans first. My employer gave me time off straight away, which I used to focus on a gut-friendly diet and workouts in the gym to make myself strong enough to cope with the journey ahead. The pain in my stomach was almost unbearable during this time and would last as long as four or five hours. I also took to meditating and journaling for two hours a day, making music – which is my passion – and spending time with my family, focusing on only allowing positive thoughts and happiness in my life in around the pain. We celebrated my son’s birthday early as I knew it would coincide with my recovery from surgery, when I wouldn’t be mobile.
By luck my operation was moved forward almost three weeks to 15th April 2024, and this date change saved my life. The cancer was eating through my colon, and it was a paper-thin bit of tissue holding it off from going through the muscle. The operation was completed by an incredible surgeon and his team using robotic surgery. I still needed chemotherapy as a precaution for three months due to some exposure to nodes. During this time, I built myself a ‘recovery university’ – I tolerated the chemotherapy so I used the time to take courses online, make music and learn how to write a book.
The recovery was tough but so many good things came from that time. My world almost ended 12 months ago, but it ignited me to focus on what I love. I’m now starting further education in business, and I have my first signed record being released the Friday before the London Marathon. I have also founded a record label with an incredible team called Floating Duck Records, which will launch in May.
One year on from my operation, I’m proud to be running the London Marathon for the charity that’s been involved in research that has helped me survive bowel cancer. After surgery, I was only able to take 26 steps. I watched the London Marathon on TV and joked that they were running a mile for every step I could take, which is why my wife Mikhaila (who is running with me) and I are calling this challenge “26 Steps to 26 Miles”.
Training hasn’t been easy – chemotherapy damaged my feet, so I was only able to start running again in January and, even now, my right foot swells up after about five minutes of running. But the donations keep me going – knowing that my training will help raise vital funds for research into bowel cancer and other bowel diseases. Please donate here.