From diagnosis onwards...

When Steve was diagnosed, they weren't able to tell him how advanced the cancer was, if it had spread or if it would be treatable.

I can honestly say, 6th July 2012 was the worst day of my life, and Steve's too. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt and helplessness, I don't know how else to describe it. I was desperate to take it away from him and go through it all myself if it meant he wouldn't have to.

It took hours to get to sleep that night, and we woke up in 15 minute intervals throughout the whole night until 6am, when we decided to give up on trying to sleep. I remember waking up and praying that it was nearly morning, and it was still only 2am. Longest night ever.

Steve couldn't bring himself to tell friends and family, so I left him downstairs with Mike whilst I went to our room and made the phone calls. Everyone had the same question - is he going to be okay? And I couldn't give them an answer.

He had MRI and CT scans, lots more blood tests, and his next appointment was on the 24th July. That meant 18 days of pure agony and waiting in limbo for answers.

He kept saying "what am I going to do if they tell me I've got 6 months to live?" and "I really wanted to go to Glastonbury festival next year but I don't see much point in planning that far ahead anymore." It broke my heart to see him scared and wondering how long he had left.

I knew this was a very serious matter, but from day 1 I really did believe he was going to be okay. I told him that, but he probably thought I was just trying to comfort him. I suppose in a way I was trying to comfort both of us. He had everything on his side - young, physically fit, no previous symptoms, a strong mind and a fantastic support network. But cancer doesn't care about those things.