A few weeks ago, bubbly Sunshine Coast hairdresser Michaela was thriving. Now she’s fighting a rare sinus cancer and been given weeks to live at just 32: ‘It was like a pimple’

When Michaela Grace Coy noticed a tender lump beside her nose, she assumed it was a pimple. 

Less than seven weeks later, the 32-year-old was told an aggressive cancer had spread to the front of her brain and she may have only weeks or months to live.

The Sunshine Coast hairdresser first felt unusual facial soreness and was more exhausted than normal, but neither symptom alarmed her. 

With several jobs, early gym sessions, horse riding, and a busy social life, she simply put her tiredness down to her full schedule.

‘I lived quite a full life and was doing a lot so I thought I was probably just tired,’ she told the Daily Mail.

On July 2, Michaela discovered the lump at the corner of her nose. It was tender to touch, but as it caused little pain, she dismissed it as a blemish. 

‘I touched it, and it was a little bit sore, and I thought, “Oh, I should probably go to the doctor about this”,’ she recalled.

What followed was a confusing search for answers. A CT scan revealed her nose and eye socket appeared fractured, although she hadn’t injured herself. Doctors suspected a blocked sinus, then an abscess, eventually deciding to operate on what appeared to be an infection. 

However, during surgery, nothing was found to drain. As a precaution, a tissue sample was sent for analysis. Almost two weeks later, Michaela received a phone call: the cells were cancerous. 

Within days, further scans showed the aggressive disease had already infiltrated the front of her brain. Surgery was deemed too dangerous. Michaela says she was told she might have six to 12 months left with chemotherapy, and only weeks without it. 

The journey to diagnosis 

Exhaustion and facial discomfort had become normal for Michaela. She worked four ten-hour shifts a week as a senior stylist, seeing up to 13 clients a day. 

Outside the salon, she was a registered counsellor, ran a mobile bridal hair and makeup business with a friend, volunteered at a horse shelter, served on the board of a charity, looked after children at her gym, took singing lessons and had recently studied relationship therapy. 

‘I was always doing what I wanted to do and managing my time really well,’ she said. 

The lump beside her nose was more puzzling. After an ultrasound, she was quickly referred for a CT scan, which showed fractures in her nose and eye socket – injuries she couldn’t explain.

‘They said, “What have you done to yourself? Your nose is fractured”,’ she recalled.

‘I definitely hadn’t done anything. I didn’t have a black eye or anything like that. I said, “Surely my nose isn’t broken?”‘

Although Michaela considered her active lifestyle as a possible explanation, the injuries didn’t add up. 

‘I thought it was weird because I don’t remember breaking my nose, and surely that’s something that you would remember.’

Doctors, too, were concerned by the unexplained fractures and performed welfare checks to ensure she was safe at home. 

Initially, they suspected a blocked sinus. Michaela’s ENT specialist requested an MRI and suspected a mucocele – a mucus-filled swelling. He tried to drain it, but the swelling was inaccessible due to inflammation, so urgent surgery was scheduled. 

Not just a blocked sinus

A different ENT specialist later suspected an abscess instead due to the size of the mass. Michaela was admitted to hospital, started on intravenous antibiotics, and taken to surgery the next morning to drain the abscess and address a deviated septum.

But again, there was nothing to drain. Her blood tests and scans hadn’t shown signs of cancer, and infection still seemed most likely. The surgeon sent a tissue sample for testing as a precaution. Michaela went home expecting a quick recovery, but her face soon began swelling again. 

‘I couldn’t open my eyes,’ she said. 

Initially, the swelling improved after surgery, but within days, it returned. Michaela contacted her medical team and was asked to come to hospital immediately. 

Doctors tried different medicines while awaiting biopsy results, considering an unusual fungal infection. For two days, things improved, then worsened dramatically. 

Another attempt to drain the swelling found nothing. Almost two weeks after surgery, Michaela felt increasingly unwell: she was exhausted, unsteady and the swelling persisted.

Then, at 6.30am on August 17, her surgeon called with the news: the tissue sample contained cancerous cells. 

Michaela was at the beach writing in her gratitude journal when she answered. 

‘I’d been writing gratitude about my nose, that I’m so grateful for my nose because it helps me breathe.’

Her surgeon told her to return to hospital immediately. Michaela was in shock. 

‘I was pacing because I was so… I guess I was in shock, going through the stages of grief,’ she said. 

Her surgeon, not rostered that day, came in specially to meet her. The team was surprised by the diagnosis. 

‘My tests and bloods, nothing pointed to cancer,’ Michaela said. 

‘It’s reached your brain’

In the days following her diagnosis, Michaela underwent a series of scans to determine the extent of the disease and if surgery was possible. 

After one scan, a doctor explained the findings.

‘It hasn’t spread to my brain, though, has it?’

‘No, it has, darling,’ she recalled him telling her.

The cancer had infiltrated the front of her brain, and Michaela received the news alone. 

‘I was just lying there by myself. It was quite a lot to process.’ 

The next day, her eye was so swollen she was rushed back to emergency. Her team had met that morning to decide next steps.

‘It’s too dangerous to operate. They said I won’t survive,’ she said.

Her oncologist explained the options: chemotherapy might give her six to 12 months, or only weeks without any treatment. 

Two friends were with her as she received the prognosis. 

‘No one prepares you in life for something like that to be said to you,’ she said.

A fight for time

Michaela was initially scared of chemotherapy, recalling childhood memories of her grandmother becoming very ill during treatment. 

Her oncologists explained that treatments had improved and side effects could be managed. Michaela decided it offered her the best chance of more time and a better quality of life. 

Doctors wanted to start straight away, but Michaela asked for 48 hours to organise her affairs and tell loved ones in person.

She drove to Beaudesert to see the grandparents who had largely raised her.

‘It was heartbreaking. No grandparent should ever have to say goodbye to their grandchild first.’ 

Then, wanting a touch of normality, Michaela got her nails done.  

‘I’m not having cancer and ugly nails, so I needed to get my nails done,’ she joked.

Her nail technician, a regular for four years, refused payment and instead cooked Michaela Vietnamese spring rolls with her family. Michaela also visited her horses, spent time with friends, and had a movie night with her closest mates.

Only then did she feel ready.

Surrounded by love 

Michaela began chemotherapy on August 24, bracing herself for side effects. To her surprise, the first treatment went smoothly.

‘The only symptom I got was a sore arm, and it just felt a little bit bruised,’ she said. ‘I’ve been through way worse.’

She wasn’t alone: ten people visited her during that session, bringing food and keeping her spirits up.

Support from friends, family, colleagues and clients has been one of the few unexpected gifts over the last weeks. Relatives overseas dropped everything to fly in. Michaela says around eight family members, some internationally, travelled to Queensland within days.

‘I’ve never felt more loved in my entire life, to be honest,’ she said.

For a woman used to being the helper, needing support has felt unfamiliar and at times uncomfortable. 

‘I was so used to looking after myself and doing things for myself,’ she said.

‘I was the gift giver, so it’s been really uncomfortable for me to accept so many gifts, and money, and food donations, and people dropping meals.

‘But I think that’s been a beautiful lesson in all of this. It’s okay to accept the help that you give out too.’

‘A legacy that I never knew I was leaving behind’

When Michaela shared her diagnosis online, it was simply to update those wondering why she had disappeared. She hoped a single video would spare her the emotional toll of repeated conversations. Instead, she awoke to hundreds of messages.

‘It backfired a little bit,’ she joked.

Many were from people she had not seen in years: colleagues, school friends, ex-partners and hairdressing clients who recalled small kindnesses she barely remembered. 

One former apprentice wrote that Michaela’s simple act of buying her lunch when she was too busy for a break had influenced how she now treated her own staff.

Michaela has received dozens of similar messages. 

‘I never knew that one thing I did had such a lasting impact on someone’s life,’ she said.

‘It feels like a little bit of a legacy that I never knew I was leaving behind.’

As a counsellor specialising in grief and loss, Michaela’s philosophy is that grief exists because love existed first.

‘To grieve is a gift, because it means you’ve loved so deeply,’ she said. 

Now, suddenly facing her own mortality at 32, Michaela is focused on helping others where she can. She hopes to leave money at her counselling clinic to fund therapy for those who can’t afford it.

While her life has changed beyond recognition in two months, she finds comfort in realising just how many lives she has touched.

‘It makes me feel loved,’ she said.

‘Really, really loved. And I didn’t realise I was that loved.’