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When I was pregnant with my second child, I knew that I had bowel cancer.
You know your body, you know if something is wrong, and I knew. This feeling combined with textbook symptoms and a basic knowledge of bowel cancer due to a strong family history (my mother, grandmother and great-grandfather all died from bowel cancer) left me convinced it was the only thing it could be. Even so getting a diagnosis was not as easy as it should have been.
I had been getting rectal bleeding on and off, since around 2006.
Over the years I had visited various GPs but they always said the same, that I was too young to have bowel cancer and if the bleeding went, there was nothing to worry about. The bleeding stopped so I breathed a massive sigh of relief, swiped the sweat from my brow and went on in the blissful ignorance that not thinking about things like ‘your health’ brings.