Living on BORROWED TIME

Rebecca Muggleton reveals the truth about life with terminal illness

- HELEN RENSHAW

Sometimes, the course of your life can hinge on a single day. One such day in April 2023 was both my bleakest-ever moment, and the day my husband proposed. It was a Friday afternoon when the consultant called to deliver shattering news. He'd run out of options to treat Jonathan's cancer - apart from clinical trials, there was nothing more they could do. We left that call emotional wrecks, but there were no words left, and I was distracting myself by tidying our daughter's room, when Jonathan asked, 'Will you marry me?' We tied the knot weeks later - it was a beautiful day.

Jonathan and I had met over 20 years ago when he was DJing at my house party. We were living happily with our two young kids - Amelia, then eight, and Charlie, five - at our home in Hertfordshire, when in 2020 he noticed changes to a childhood mole. His GP sent him to get it checked out, but we didn't think much of it - Jonathan was fit and healthy. It was during Covid, and I couldn't go into the appointment with him, so I sat in the car, worrying about whether we'd be finished in time for the school run. I watched him walk across the car park towards me - the last precious moments before our nightmare began.

The worst news

Jonathan had been diagnosed with mucosal melanoma, a rare and aggressive cancer. The odds of living past five years were 14%. We sat in the car park and cried. He had just celebrated his 45th birthday.