 |
| Picture: The Times/www.bowelbabe.org |
The Instagram post on 10 May was so typical of Dame Deborah James. For a start, it employed the very medium that exemplified her five-year battle with bowel cancer. Even when she was coping with gruelling chemotherapy sessions at London’s Royal Marsden Hospital, and later, a distended stomach, when being treated for a secondary liver condition, her posts were defiantly full of life, occasional black humour, but never self-pity. In fact, her very public battle with incurable canceer was never, once, about self-pity. For what was to be the unavoidable end of a life, James celebrated it to the end.
For the many who’ve followed her plight, James - @bowelbabe to the social media-savvy - was a source of enrichment for anyone dealing with their own health issues. Diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer in 2016 she was given just two years to live, but as she embarked on a new career in 2018 as a broadcaster, co-presenting You, Me And The Big C on BBC Radio 5 Live, the former deputy headteacher became a remarkable beacon of hope for others facing up to cancer themselves.
 |
| Picture: Instagram/BowelBabe |
As a campaigner and figurehead of the ‘No Butts’ initiative, she was a positive force of nature, encouraging people not to ignore the symptoms of bowel cancer (“Check your poo!”). Given us Brits' natural reluctance to talk about anything in the toilet department, James’ infectious personality, coupled with logic-defying TikTok videos of her dancing while hooked up to an array of intravenous drips, was nothing short of inspirational.
Her revelation in May that she had halted active treatment for the cancer and was receiving end-of-life hospice care, at her parents’ house in Woking, was, sadly inevitable. James’ near-half a million followers had grown increasingly concerned over recent months as a series of complications kept her off social media for lengthy periods, only appearing occasionally to post something atypically upbeat, but laced with peril.
“The message I never wanted to write,” the mother of two began that post. “We have tried everything, but my body simply isn’t playing ball. My active care has stopped and I am now moved to hospice at home care, with my incredible family all around me and the focus is on making sure I’m not in pain and spending time with them.”
“Nobody knows how long I’ve got left but I’m not able to walk, I’m sleeping most of the days, and most things I took for granted are pipe dreams. I know we have left no stone unturned. But even with all the innovative cancer drugs in the world or some magic new breakthrough, my body just can’t continue anymore.”
Stoically, she wrote of how she’d not expected to see Christmases, her 40th birthday or even her children going off to secondary school after her original diagnosis. She also hadn’t expected to still be able to write the word “goodbye” to her followers: “I think it’s been the rebellious hope in me,” she said, adding that she was establishing a fund to raise money and awareness for others like her going through the same experience with cancer. Within a couple of days it had reached almost £3 million - quite significantly more than the £250,000 James had initially intended to raise, fuelled, I suspect, but the sheer force of her infectious charisma as much as pity. Today it stands at over £6.8 million.
 |
| Picture: Instagram/BowelBabe |
Since that May missive James continued to live her life to the full, or as fully as end-stage cancer would allow, seemingly right up against her death, announced yesterday. She received a damehood for her work, presented in person by Prince Wiliam; on a rainy day she posted an upbeat message about going outside, determined to enjoy the moment for fear of never feeling rain on her face again; she visited the Chelsea Flower Show, in part to see a rose named after her, and even late in her end-stage, went to see the racing at Ascot. In all of these very public activities it wouldn’t have been lost on anyone following her how thin and frail she looked, her body ravaged by disease but her spirit unbroken, still projecting the infectious personality that drew so many to her.
That, then, has been the crux of these final years of James' life, lived partially in the intentional spotlight of social media, drawing attention with impossible bravery to her plight, but with humour and an absence of mawkishness. “All I ask if you ever read a column, followed my Instagram, listened to the podcast or saw me dressed as a poo for no reason,” she wrote. “Please buy me a drink to see me out [of] this world, by donating the cost to @bowelbabefund which will enable us to raise funds for further life saving research into cancer. To give more Deborahs more time!”. She signed off by saying that her whole family were around her, adding simply: “No regrets. Enjoy life X”.
Announcing her death yesterday evening, James’ family wrote: “We are deeply saddened to announce the death of Dame Deborah James; the most amazing wife, daughter, sister, mummy. Deborah passed away peacefully today, surrounded by her family. Deborah, who many of you will know as Bowelbabe, was an inspiration and we are incredibly proud of her and her work and commitment to charitable campaigning, fundraising and her endless efforts to raise awareness of cancer that touched so many lives.
“Deborah shared her experience with the world to raise awareness, break down barriers, challenge taboos and change the conversation around cancer. Even in her most challenging moments, her determination to raise money and awareness was inspiring. Thank you for playing your part in her journey, you are all incredible.”
James herself managed to have the final say, with a last message shared - as ever on Instagram: “Find a life worth enjoying; take risks; love deeply; have no regrets; and always, always have rebellious hope. And finally, check your poo – it could just save your life.”
 |
| Picture: Instagram/BowelBabe |
“It’s been hideous telling my children,” the 40-year-old told The Times in May. “We have had a string of emotional conversations that have escalated very quickly from supportive care to end-of-life care. My husband Sebastien has been incredible, he has dropped everything and is with me 24/7. My first thought was [that] I don’t want my children to see me like this. I didn’t think I would be able to speak to them without crying, but I’d love one last cuddle with them.”
Just as following her struggle with cancer has been a strangely upbeat experience, her coping with the inevitability of her death has been equally inspiring. “I have moments when I just sob uncontrollably,” she told The Times, “but I can’t spend my last few days crying, it would be such a waste. So I’m trying to compartmentalise my death, otherwise how would I function?”
It’s a lesson for us all. “I’ve had some really hard conversations during the last week,” she said in an interview with BBC Breakfast. “You think, ‘Gosh, how can anyone have those conversations?’ and then you find yourself in the middle of them. And people are very nice, but you’re talking about your own death and I’ve had five years to prepare for my death. It’s really hard. The thing that I know, because I trust my husband - he’s just the most wonderful man and so is my family and I know that my kids are going to be more than looked after and surrounded by love.
In her interview with The Times James revealed that she had already planned her funeral, largely to avoid it being a burden for her family. She’s thought through every detail: “It sounds morbid, she said, “but I want a sombre funeral in black and white because I think people look good in black and white. There’s a big church in Barnes [where the family home is] and I’ll leave Seb to decide on the reception, as long as there is tequila.” How very Deborah. “I want to die listening to my family, I just want to hear their banter and the normal buzz of life as I go.”
 |
| Picture: Instagram/BowelBabe |
“I just feel gutted, absolutely gutted, that the things I love — I love life — I won’t get to see, hear, taste or smell [any more],” she concluded. “I have so outlived my prognosis, it’s ridiculous. I want to thank everyone: the NHS, my doctors and nurses. I am now sounding like an Oscar winner except there are no medals for dying.” Maybe not, but Dame Deborah James deserves something more for the force of nature that she has demonstrated herself to be over these last five extraordinary and unexpected years.
Visit bowelbabe.org to donate
No comments:
Post a Comment