My initial reaction when diagnosed with stage four Hodgkin Lymphoma?

Shock doesn’t even begin to describe it. I was young, active, working, planning my future, and suddenly I was being told I had stage four cancer. There was confusion, disbelief, relief, and fear all at once because I tried for so long to get diagnosed. I remember thinking, How can this be happening to me? And what does stage four actually mean? Will I make it to the end of the year?

I educated myself slowly. At first, I could barely take in information, everything sounded like a foreign language. I just wanted to start treatment. Over time, I learned to ask questions, to understand treatment options, and to advocate for myself and others. Knowledge became a way of regaining control in a situation where so much felt out of my hands.

Journey, finding out my stem cell donor odds, & raising awareness

My attitude towards battling blood cancer shifted over time. At first, it was survival mode, just get through the next scan, the next treatment, the next day. Finding out that my ethnicity significantly reduced my chances of finding a stem cell donor was devastating. It added another layer of injustice to an already overwhelming diagnosis. 

But it also lit a fire in me. I felt a responsibility, not just for myself, but for others like me who may never get the chance to ask publicly for help. I was scared to put myself out there. Asking strangers to join a register felt vulnerable, almost uncomfortable. I worried people wouldn’t care, or that it would be “too much.” But I also knew silence wouldn’t save me or anyone else, but awareness might.

Public Reaction on Social Media & Community Registration Drives

The response was overwhelming. I was shocked, genuinely. People listened. They shared. They asked questions. They signed up. I expected sympathy, but I didn’t expect action. Seeing people engage so deeply with a topic that’s often avoided gave me hope in humanity at a time when I needed it most. 

Seeing people show up in real life, seeing my employer, my friends, family, strangers, the public, was emotional in a way I still struggle to put into words. I had conversations with strangers who said things like, “I never realised how hard it is for people from ethnic minorities to find a match,” or “I didn’t know joining was this simple.” Those moments mattered. It wasn’t just about me anymore, it was about changing outcomes for people who may never get a platform, a following, or a voice.

Faith & Cancer 

My faith grounded me when everything else felt unstable. Islam is everything to me, It reminded me that my worth wasn’t tied to productivity, strength, or outcomes. On the days I felt weak, scared, or angry, faith gave me permission to surrender, to trust that even in suffering, there was meaning, and that I wasn’t alone. It didn’t remove fear, but it gave me peace alongside it. 

Life After a Stem Cell Transplant

Life after a stem cell transplant is complex. There’s gratitude, but also trauma. Relief, mixed with uncertainty. I have been in a lot of bone pain since the transplant & been trying to get my mobility back with the help of physiotherapy but I have a very long road ahead, but I am okay with that, and side effects, I would rather deal with this than go through another relapse, so I feel grateful. I don’t feel defined by cancer, but I am changed by it. I value time differently. I protect my energy. I no longer postpone joy or minimise rest. I live by day to day and enjoying each day to the fullest. Cancer stripped life back to what truly matters, health, love, purpose, and authenticity.

Hope & Advice for Others

If you’re where I once was, you are allowed to be scared. You are allowed to break. Strength doesn’t mean silence. Ask questions. Advocate for yourself. Lean on others. And remember, your life has value beyond this diagnosis. And most importantly, never give up on having hope.