A KILLER WAS LURKING

While Stacey Chetwyn, 39, battled a deadly disease, her husband received the worst news.

- WORDS: ALEXANDRA MEYER

The noise of the pub swirled around me as I pulled another pint. Then the door opened and a man I recognised appeared. Stuart, then 34, worked as a DJ. Known as Stu, he was handsome and charismatic and there had always been chemistry between us. Now it was January 2010, and Stu came to the bar and asked me out.

Of course, I said yes and he arranged our first date at Alton Towers. We had a wonderful time and I found myself falling for him fast.

Born on 29 February 1976, Stu was a leap-year baby, so I called him Peter Pan, the boy who never wanted to grow up, because he only had a 'real' birthday every four years. Fun-loving and carefree, he was just like a big kid. But he had a responsible side too, and doted on his six-month-old daughter from a previous relationship.

We got engaged, but weren't in a hurry to plan a wedding. Instead, our priority was adding to our family, and when our son Niall came along, followed by Louie, Stu and I felt happier than ever.

Stu trained as an articulated dumper truck driver and although it was hard when he was working away, I knew he was working hard for our future.

But in August 2020, I woke one morning to find I was bleeding heavily. It wasn't my period, and feeling worried when I was still bleeding the next day, I went to see my GP.

I had a smear test, and within days I was sent to the Leicester Royal Infirmary for further tests. 'I'm sure it's nothing,' I told Stu, but due to the Covid-19 pandemic, I had to go alone.

When I was called in to discuss my results, there were four people, including a specialist cancer nurse, in the room. Immediately I started hyperventilating, and when I eventually calmed down, the doctor broke the news to me. 'We've found a mass,' he said. 'We believe it's cervical cancer.'

I was distraught, unable to stop shaking, and even when I phoned Stu, my hands were still trembling.