What's actually
making a difference.

Nobody talks about it honestly. I want to. Not because it's morbid — but because being forced to look at death clearly has given me the best year and a half of my life. Here's what I've found on the other side of that conversation.

I've signed up for the Tour de 4 — Sir Chris Hoy's charity ride for people living with stage 4 cancer. The red route. 56 miles. Here's what my training week looks like and how I'm building from 25km to 80km in 12 weeks.

Shift work. Hidden sugar. Overtraining on an exhausted body. COVID. Destroyed gut health. None of these alone would do it. But all of them together, at the same time? I think that's my answer.

I lost a lot of muscle in my first year. I needed to rebuild — but carefully. So I devised my own 6 exercise routine based on 30 seconds work, 30 seconds rest. Here it is in full, in case it helps someone else who doesn't know where to start.

My treatment bleached every hair on my body white. I looked really ill — but I felt OK. There was a disconnect I couldn't live with. Getting my brows and lashes tinted sounds small. The difference it made wasn't small at all.

Nivolumab every four weeks. Blood test on Friday, phone call from the nurse, cannula in on Tuesday, 30 minutes, home and straight to bed. Here's the real version of what an immunotherapy infusion day looks like from the inside.

Nivolumab and Cabozantinib. A double headed attack on stage 4 kidney cancer. Here's what the side effects actually feel like from the inside — dry skin, sore feet, dodgy bowels and one unforgettable incident in a shop.

I had symptoms for three years before I acted on them. Embarrassment kept me from the doctor. And when I finally went, the ultrasound came back clear. The tumour was already there. It had been there all along.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day — if your name is Mr Kellogg. Here's what actually happens in your body when you skip it, why I eat in an eight hour window, and how I've lost 15kg without ever feeling like I was on a diet.

Cancer cells feed on glucose. That's not a conspiracy theory — it's established science called the Warburg effect. This doesn't mean cutting sugar cures cancer. But it does mean it's one tool worth using. Here's what I do and why.

My biggest tumour had shrunk from over 9cm to around 7cm. My five year survival rate went from 15% to 75%. The whole family was ecstatic. And then reality walked back through the door. Here's the honest version of what that all felt like.

I'm a science-backed, show-me-the-evidence kind of person. So when Gayle suggested I look into Joe Dispenza and meditation and healing, part of me raised an eyebrow. But I've learned that dismissing something out of hand might cost you more than trying it.

I was drinking up to four litres of Pepsi Max a day and thought I was being healthy. No sugar, no calories — what's the problem? The problem, it turns out, is everything they put in instead. Here's what I found when I started digging.

My friends used to call me the fish. Not because I was thirsty — because I drank. A lot. I stopped on 7th August 2024 and haven't looked back. Here's the honest story of why, and what I didn't expect to find on the other side.

Everyone has a picture in their head of what cancer treatment looks like. Immunotherapy is different — and in some ways that makes it harder to explain. Six months in, here's what it actually feels like from the inside, and what the results have shown so far.

I found Dr William Li on YouTube at midnight, falling down a rabbit hole looking for anything that might help. Here was a scientist who'd spent his career developing cancer drugs, now talking about food using the same framework. I was all ears.

Theory is one thing. What does eating to beat cancer actually look like on a normal Tuesday? From skipping breakfast to the tuna crunch that's become my signature lunch — here's a real day of eating in my world.

I used to do triathlons. Then surgery and treatment changed what my body could do. No more running — my back and feet made that very clear. But the mountain bike, the pool, and early morning sunrises have given me something just as good.

Catherine heard about a charity offering six free reflexology sessions for stage 4 cancer patients. I said yes. What followed has been one of the most unexpectedly valuable things I've done — physically and mentally.

Stage 4. Incurable. I wasn't scared for me — I've lived a good life with few regrets. What overwhelmed me was what it meant for Catherine and the girls. But sorry and broken are two very different things.