When the unthinkable happened, Katie found hope
I didn't expect to make the front page of the East Anglian Daily Times, but this piece of press tells the story of how I came about to create Barley Designs (full transcript below images).
THE MAGIC OF THE MAGPIES BROUGHT ME HOPE IN THE DARKNESS
Katie Leach is mum to Bea, four, and Lily, two. Her family received a devastating diagnosis in March 2021. She tells us how she coped, and found a way to look forward…
It was back in the midst of COVID, March 2021, when I received the words that changed everything, “your partner has a brain tumour.”
In the weeks, even months before, my now-husband had been complaining of headaches, especially on waking. He’d wince while bending down to change our six-month-old’s nappy – something he did a lot. I have to admit, part of me thought it was excuses. But slowly, his symptoms worsened, and real worry set in.
One ordinary Wednesday morning, I left the house to take our baby, Bea, to a class.
Midway there, I got a call “Can you come home?” he asked.
I walked in to find him in bed, curtains drawn, barely making sense. I called his sister, a GP, then the very swiftly 999. The ambulance came and he was blue-lighted to hospital.
Remarkably, he was only in for two nights. High on steroids to reduce the swelling, he returned home while we waited for the next steps.
What followed was a blur – hospital appointments, googling, caring for a baby, and managing rising tide of fear and emotions I didn't have time to feel. Then came the diagnosis that no one is ready for; stage 4 metastatic melanoma which has spread to the brain and lung.
I scrambled for information - speaking to anyone who could help, reading survival stories, researching specialists. Our bedside tabler became a mountain of cancer books.
But then came Easter weekend - another blow. The brain tumour was growing faster than expected. We rushed my husband to hospital again. A screaming six-month-old in the backseat. And then, the goodbye at the doors - no entry allowed because of covid. I can't tell you how that feels.
He was transferred to Queen Square Neurology unit in London. A brain operation relieved the pressure. Then again, he was home – fragile, confused, and me increasingly anxious.
The treatment for advanced melanoma has come a long way recently – something I’ll always be grateful for. He began a double dose of immunotherapy (a powerful treatment, if it works, but not without risk) and radiotherapy. The weeks and months that followed brought more scans, more holding our breath.
Then, in May we received our first piece of good news, the tumours had shrunk, the treatments were making a difference.
This certainly isn’t the end. He's doing really well and hasn't needed any more treatment since November 2021 except six monthly scans. I'm incredibly grateful.