Hi everyone,

For almost three years now, cancer has been part of my life.

In November 2023, I had my first major operation after being diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I lost my left ovary and began what I hoped would be the hardest chapter behind me. But the cancer had already spread to my liver.

Throughout 2023, 2024 and 2025, I have also undergone several rounds of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. These treatments have taken a huge physical and emotional toll — exhaustion, sickness, pain, and the mental battle that comes with living scan to scan — but I faced every single one determined to survive.

In April 2024, I underwent surgery to remove 28% of my liver. When that wasn’t enough, in August 2024 surgeons removed a further 58%. I have quite literally had most of my liver removed in order to survive. I was incredibly fortunate to trial a drug designed to reduce scar tissue on my organs, and on November 27th 2024, I was told the words we had prayed for — I was in remission.

For the first time in a long time, we allowed ourselves to plan again. To hope again. To feel normal again.

We thought we could finally breathe.

But in July 2025, after a routine scan, our world turned upside down. The cancer was back — this time as invasive squamous cell carcinoma, which has spread into my mouth and the lymph nodes in my neck.

Hearing those words again felt unbearable. After everything my body has already endured, I now face two more major operations to remove the cancer from my mouth, face and neck.

The operation I urgently need is called Mohs surgery. It is a highly specialised procedure designed to remove cancer layer by layer while preserving as much healthy tissue as possible. Because this cancer is invasive, without surgery it will continue to spread further and ultimately shorten my life. That is the reality I am facing.

This is not only life-changing surgery, but life-altering surgery.

This time, it isn’t just about survival — it’s about function, speech, eating, and how I will look afterwards. It’s about facing not only cancer again, but the emotional and physical impact that comes with surgery to my face and neck.

Because of the long NHS waiting times and the invasive nature of this cancer, I have had no choice but to go private to avoid dangerous delays. This decision hasn’t been easy, but waiting is not a risk I can take. Time is something cancer doesn’t give you.

The financial pressure has been overwhelming. I lie awake at night worrying about how I’m going to find the money while also trying to stay strong for my two beautiful young daughters, who need their mum healthy, smiling, and here with them. They are my whole world. They have already watched their mum go through so much, and I am determined that they will also see me come out the other side of this.

Cancer affects more than just the person diagnosed — it affects the whole family. It steals peace, security, and the sense of normal life. But it has not taken my fight.

I have worked incredibly hard and managed to save half of what I need. That has taken every ounce of strength and planning I have. But I still need to raise £13,866 for my final operation at Guy’s and St Thomas’ NHS Foundation Trust in London, before undergoing reconstructive plastic surgery to repair my face afterwards which is now booked for July.

Every single donation, no matter the size, brings me one step closer to surgery, recovery, and being able to focus fully on healing instead of finances. And if you can’t donate, sharing this page is just as powerful — it could reach someone who can.

Asking for help is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I have always been independent. But I have fought too hard, endured too much, and come too far to stop now.

I am not giving up.

Thank you for reading my story. Thank you for your kindness, your messages, your prayers, and for standing beside me in this fight. I am determined to beat this — not just for me, but for my girls. They deserve their mum. And I deserve the chance to keep fighting.

With love and endless gratitude,

Charli