I’m Kate, 35 year old…. but I don’t think I’m the most important to introduce here. Desmond is of course the current star of the show. Good ol’ Des.

Desmond is a 9-12 month old 12 x 7 x 4 cm Desmoid tumour (Aggressive Fibromatosis) who has claimed Squatters rites in my abdominal cavity.

He likes:

Pina Colada’s

Sharp searing pains in the abdomen

Walks in the Rain

Pressing on my bladder from the inside

Desmond needs to take his 5-10 minutes of fame as he is soon to be evicted or murdered in cold blood. Sorry Des, but you’ve got to go.

In all seriousness. I’m a newly divorced Mum of 2 who has been put through the mill, reshaped and then sent through for several more passes. (Not dissimilar to playdough when it goes a bit crusty round the edges, the colours all blur, it goes a bit brown and everyone starts to worry about bum worms)

So please, let me share a little bit about me. My health started to deteriorate after I suffered a miscarriage before my 1st born, which led to years of misdiagnosis, hospital trips and pain. We’ll talk about medical gaslighting another time but it’s a bloody real thing.

I was diagnosed in December 2022 with a bowel perforation and in January 2023 admitted again with another flare. I had a sigmoid colectomy in February 2023 when they discovered I’d been perforating my bowel repeatedly over the years and had formed a fibrotic antibioma in my pelvis. I healed, thanked the surgeon and hoped that was the end of my woes and I would never need to see his worried face again.

A few months later in May 2023 I came home from work and took a steep nosedive, developing sepsis and delirium within a couple of hours. I ended up in A&E being rushed through and I was in theatre again, marked for a stoma and cautioned about whether I’d ever want to or be able to have children again. My ovary and fallopian tube necrotic and me hanging on for good measure. I recovered (hooray) and 7 days later developed sepsis again (bugger) and was back in theatre, this time ending up on HDU and with a chest drain sticking out of my abdomen on one side and an abdominal drain on the other. I was in hospital for 6 weeks. I have since had more CT scans than I’d like to even consider, an ovarian cyst on my remaining side (because I think she felt left out) and recurrent flares of diverticulitis in my splenic flexure. I have now been induced into a medical menopause to prevent my flares which has done absolute miracles. UNTIL…

(Enter Desmond)

In the throws of divorce and dealing with some nasty neighbours, life decided to throw me a curve ball in the shape of a Desmond.

Desmond has grown in the last 9-12 months (isn’t he clever), I convinced myself he was scar tissue, from the aforementioned chest drain on my right side (named Big Betty). Until 3 weeks ago, I asked my Mum to feel my abdomen and her face dropped and she made me promise to get him checked out. I have had 2 urgent scans and have now been referred to the local specialist/tertiary centre for management.

Desmond is a rare aggressive Fibromatosis (Desmoid) Tumour. He’s an aggressive (rude) , non metastasising soft tissue tumour who felt like I perhaps didn’t have enough on as a doctor, mum of 2 and newly divorcee in the throws or medical menopause and chronic illness.

I KNOW WHAT YOU NEED…?! Let’s throw in a lifelong, incurable tumour into the mix. Fucking perfect.

As I am now solely financially responsible for my home and the home of my gorgeous feral littles and our fur babs Luna and Tali, I decided to start this in hope of taking some pressure off. If I can take an ounce of worry off my shoulders then it is worth it.

I need time, and to have time- you need pennies. To have pennies you need to work and to work you need Desmond to fuck off. But to help Desmond fuck off I need time. Does that make sense??

I’ve been here before, knowing things are outside my control but panicking that debt doesn’t stop debting and bills don’t stop needing to be paid whilst you navigate the turmoil of being human and having exceptionally bad luck.

I know the world is a horrible, tense and worrying place at the moment so thank you for reading this ramble and supporting us by being here. If you can give, give. If you can’t, please don’t.

At the moment I’m surviving on just enough hope… and plenty of swearing x