If you know Amy, you know she doesn’t do drama or attention. She’s happy in her own world, keeps herself to herself, and is completely content with her little circle… until she laughs.

She’s a mum to three kids and Rusty, a wife to Andy, and somehow the kind of woman who can make an entire room laugh while organising it at the same time.

2026 was supposed to be her year.

Turning 40 in December, she had plans. Celebrations. Adventures. Making memories. Just Living.

On 21st January, everything changed.

What started as suspected appendicitis became something no one was prepared for. After scans and appointments, through morphine haze and hospital corridors, Amy was told the words that stop the world spinning:

It wasn’t appendicitis.

It was cancer.

Colon cancer.

Spread to the liver.

After emergency hospital trips, fears of a perforated bowel, painful biopsies that she faced with pure grit (and probably a sarcastic comment to the nurse), the results came back. Stage 4. Terminal. Chemotherapy can give her more time. Without it, we’re talking months. With it, maybe a couple of years.

Amy knows the reality. In her own words, with that dark humour she leans on, “Well, this is what’s going to kill me then.”

But here’s what else she knows:

She is not done being a mum.

She is not done being a wife.

She is not done making memories.

Her biggest dream was to take Andy and the kids abroad for a proper family holiday. Sun. Pool. No routines. Just them. Sadly, she’s been told she’s too high risk to travel abroad.

So now the dream shifts.

UK breaks.

Trips to London to see, the sights, the chaos.

Farm trips to see animals

Nice dinners where dessert is absolutely mandatory.

Spa days where she can feel like herself again.

Theme parks. Seaside walks. Hotels breakfasts in fluffy robes.

Memory-making. All of it.

The kind of memories Andy, Layla, Archie and Daniel can hold onto forever.

Amy would never ask for this. In fact, she hates that this page even exists. But what she wants more than her pride is time well spent. Time that feels full. Time that feels special. Time that feels normal.

As a community, we’re good at coming together when it matters. And this matters.

Every single donation will go towards giving Amy, Andy & the kids the best possible time with the little time they have left. Experiences. Days out. Breaks away. Moments that turn into stories they’ll tell for the rest of their lives.

Let’s help her turn “terminal” into “make it unforgettable.”

Let’s help her squeeze every drop out of the time she has.

If you can donate, thank you.

If you can share, thank you.

If you can send love, laughter, or inappropriate jokes… she’d appreciate those too.

Let’s give Amy more than time.

Let’s give her moments.