Ifit hadn’t been for a late summer hiking holiday in the Lakes, I may not have discovered that I had bowel cancer. Not the most obvious route to a cancer diagnosis. But my struggle to walk up hills without having to stop constantly to catch my breath prompted a call to my GP.
I’d noticed I was breathless going upstairs or uphill for a while but thought that, despite an active lifestyle, my age was beginning to tell. The GP ordered a blood test and called early the next morning to say I was anaemic. I made some flippant remark about eating more steak, only for him to inform me sombrely that my iron levels were so low I’d likely need an infusion.