I was diagnosed with stage 3 bowel cancer at 35. I had none of the typical symptoms

Lucinda Ball was 35 when she was diagnosed with stage 3 bowel cancer. She had no symptoms that would have led her to suspect anything was wrong with her bowel. Instead, the discovery came about almost by accident, during investigations ahead of an operation she had spent years trying to get.

‘From my teens, I’d had really heavy, painful periods,’ she explains. ‘I knew I couldn’t have children, and I’d been asking for a hysterectomy for about five years. But I kept being told I was too young.’

Doctors tried different treatments, including the pill and a coil, but nothing worked. Eventually, she was referred for a hysterectomy. Before the operation, she had a scan to check the placement of stents, and something unexpected showed up on her bowel.

A bowel surgeon was brought in to investigate. Following a procedure to examine the lower bowel, Lucinda was told that doctors thought it could be cancer.

‘It was a complete shock. I didn’t have the typical symptoms people associate with bowel cancer, so it wasn’t something I’d ever considered.’

Her tumour was growing on the outside of the bowel wall and had spread to her lymph nodes. It wasn’t blocking her bowel, which meant she hadn’t experienced the warning signs she might otherwise have expected.

Lucinda was diagnosed in September 2015. Her surgeon later told her that, had they found it a few months later, it could have reached stage 4, when her treatment options would have been much more limited.

‘I was incredibly lucky that they found it when they did.’

In November 2015, Lucinda underwent a combined hysterectomy and bowel operation. When she woke up, her first question was whether she had a stoma bag.

‘I remember asking, “Do I have a bag?” Thankfully, they’d been able to remove the affected section of bowel and re-attach it.’

After surgery came six months of intensive chemotherapy, starting in January 2016. The treatment was gruelling. She experienced nausea, exhaustion and neuropathy in her hands and feet, but approached the process in a practical, almost project-management way.

‘I’ve always been quite pragmatic. I thought, “I’ve got this. What’s the next step?” I felt I was in very capable hands, and that gave me a sense of safety.’

She travelled by train from Kent to London Bridge Hospital for treatment, usually on her own. She didn’t want her family to see her in that environment, although her husband Mark sometimes accompanied her.

Even in the midst of treatment, she tried to maintain a sense of normality. The day before her cancer surgery she attended a work awards event and won an award. Only a handful of colleagues knew what she was going through.

‘I didn’t really do the “why me?” thing, or spend time thinking about what might happen. I just concentrated on getting through what was in front of me.’

She didn’t cry much at the time, either. Looking back, she wonders whether she gave herself enough space to process the fear and uncertainty of what was happening.

‘I was very focused on getting through it. I don’t think I really allowed myself to sit with the difficult feelings.’

Lucinda finished chemotherapy in June 2016. But the end of treatment didn’t bring the uncomplicated relief she might have expected.

‘When you’re having treatment, there’s a structure to it. You go to hospital, you have your chemo, you see the doctors. Then suddenly it’s finished and you’re sent back out into the big wide world. You think, “How do I know it’s definitely gone? What happens now?”’

Less than three weeks after finishing chemotherapy, Lucinda suffered another serious setback. On July 2, her husband’s birthday, she decided to try playing squash gently.

‘My husband kept telling me to stop, but I wanted to play one more game. I fell and broke my L3 vertebra.’

She needed spinal surgery, involving cement and two spinal jacks, and had to learn to walk again. She wore a back brace for eight or nine months and underwent physiotherapy.

Lucinda had osteopenia, a condition involving lower-than-normal bone density. She says she hadn’t been warned that chemotherapy could weaken her bones and believes she would have avoided racket sports had she understood the risk.

The experience has stayed with her. She avoids high heels because she worries about falling, and still finds herself triggered by seeing people fall in videos or on television.

‘I can still hear the scream in my head. It’s strange how something like that can stay with you.’

There have been positive chapters, too. In 2022, she ran the London Marathon, a remarkable achievement after everything her body had been through.

Her cancer follow-ups gradually became less frequent, moving from regular appointments to annual checks and eventually five-yearly reviews. A decade after her diagnosis, she reached a milestone she had once struggled to imagine.

A colonoscopy earlier in 2026 resulted in some polyps being removed as a precaution, but everything else was clear.

Despite reaching ten years since her diagnosis, Lucinda found the anniversary surprisingly difficult to navigate.

‘What am I supposed to do? Do I have a party? Do I celebrate it? Dinner doesn’t seem enough, but a party feels like too much.’

In the end, the milestone passed without much acknowledgement. She wasn’t necessarily looking for a big celebration or a grand gesture. She simply wanted people to remember what she had been through and recognise the significance of reaching that point.

‘It’s not about being congratulated or someone saying, “Well done.” It’s about acknowledging what happened. It’s a huge thing to go through, and sometimes you just want someone to show that they remember.’

It’s a feeling that resonates with new research from flower-delivery company Bloom & Wild, which explored how women experience important milestones in midlife. Its findings suggest that many significant moments go unrecognised, particularly when they don’t fit the traditional celebrations associated with weddings, babies and birthdays.

The research found that 71 per cent of women aged 35 and over believe midlife moments, including fertility journeys, menopause and other major life experiences, rarely receive the same recognition. An all-clear following a health issue was the moment women most wanted acknowledged, cited by 41 per cent.

Almost eight in ten women (79 per cent) said important moments don’t have to be happy to deserve recognition, while 74 per cent believed difficult experiences, such as divorce or receiving the all-clear, mattered as much as traditional milestones.

Yet going unrecognised can have a real emotional impact: 40 per cent said it had made them feel that people didn’t care, 31 per cent felt invisible and 28 per cent felt hurt.

For Lucinda, the issue is partly that people may not know what to say. Friends and family might assume that, because she looks well and has returned to everyday life, the experience is firmly in the past.

‘I think people sometimes don’t know how to talk about it. They might worry about upsetting you, or they might think that because you look fine, everything must be fine.’

She doesn’t want people to feel they have to make a fuss. A simple message or acknowledgement can be enough.

‘You don’t need to do anything elaborate. It’s just knowing that someone remembers and understands that it was a big thing in your life.’

Lucinda says there was little in the way of emotional aftercare once her treatment ended. She didn’t have talking therapy to help her process the experience, and believes that not fully addressing the medical trauma may be connected to dissociative seizures she now experiences. They first occurred after a blood test in hospital, and medical settings can still be a trigger.

She now uses counselling, meditation, Pilates, exercise, reading and rest to help manage her wellbeing.

‘When you’re going through cancer treatment, the focus is very much on the physical side, getting rid of the cancer. But you’re still a person who has experienced something traumatic, and I don’t think that always gets enough attention.’

Her advice to someone facing a diagnosis is to take things one step at a time and accept support from the medical team around them.

‘Let yourself feel what you feel. If you need to cry, cry. Give yourself time and space. I was so focused on getting through it that I didn’t always do that.’

She also encourages people to stay active within their capabilities, get outside, enjoy daylight and walk as far as they can without pushing themselves too hard.

Before her diagnosis, Lucinda had trekked to Everest Base Camp, an experience that shaped her outlook on what she could endure. Cancer reinforced her sense that life is short, and that it’s worth trying things even if they don’t turn out as expected.

She has taken singing lessons, joined a local choir and tried an art class. The latter lasted just three weeks.

‘My drawing was no better than it had been when I was six, so I stopped! But I’d tried it. I’d like to try pottery, and I’d love to write a book of poetry.’

Her approach is simple: ‘What’s the worst that can happen? I go once and I don’t like it. So what?’

A decade on, Lucinda still thinks about cancer every day. She feels fortunate that her tumour was found when it was, and that treatment worked, but she is conscious that life after cancer isn’t necessarily a straightforward return to normal.

When she meets someone else who has had cancer, she feels an immediate connection.

‘It’s like a club nobody wants to join. You understand something about each other without having to explain it.’

She wants people to recognise that an all-clear doesn’t erase what has happened. The fear, the treatment and the impact on the body can linger long after hospital appointments become less frequent.

‘You might look great on the outside, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy on the inside.’

And while reaching ten years without a recurrence is a milestone she is deeply grateful for, she wishes it had been marked in some way.

‘What I’d love someone to say is, “I know you look great, but I know it might still be tough for you. We’re here for you.” That would mean so much.’

For Lucinda, acknowledgement isn’t about dwelling on the past. It’s about recognising what someone has lived through, and making sure they don’t have to carry it entirely alone.