WHEN mum-of-four Emma Campbell was told she had cancer, she lost all hope of a future.
The writer and speaker felt surrouned by negativity – cancer meant a painful death and a lonely, isolating journey there.
Emma Campbell said Dame Deborah James always focused on the next goal while living with cancer – and taught her to do the same
Debs’ funeral is today
But then she met Dame Deborah James, who was determined to live life to the fullest, regardless of the incurable bowel cancer diagnosis she had been given.
Deborah died at the age of 40 on June 28, 2022, after living with cancer for five years.
Here, Emma Campbell pays tribute to her friend on the day of her funeral…
I can’t believe she’s gone
“We just all felt like we knew her. I honestly thought she would never die.. I thought she would be that one miracle because she wanted to live so much.”
Just one of the many messages that flooded my Instagram inbox in the days following Deborah’s death last month.
The loss feels palpable. The ‘how can this be?’ disbelief felt by so many, despite the heartbreaking fact that we all knew this time would come.
Her story touched the nation, and the jaw dropping achievements of those last few weeks of her life had us all crying happy tears as well as sad.
But for those of us in the cancer community, Dame Deborah James was our go to girl and we simply can’t believe she’s gone.
‘I keep waiting for one of her stories to pop up…’ wrote one of her followers in a message just the other day.
‘She gave me hope,’ wrote another followed by crying and broken heart emojis.
Cancer equalled death – until I met Debs
When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010, as a newly single mum of four, I saw my future in just one way. Wiped out.
Cancer equalled death. There was nothing in between.
No light, no colour or contrast. Cancer equalled the end of life. An agonising and painful one, at that.
Online cancer forums seemed terrifying with their endless talk of tumour sizes, grades, stages and the reality of running out of treatment options.
Newspaper headlines shared only the bad news. Another well known face gone too soon.
A young mum with everything to live for…even the ads on TV, it got to the point where I’d flee the room rather than watch a thirty second commercial reminding me that lives are lost every minute of every day to cancer.
Was long term survival even a possibility? Beating the odds, outliving a poor prognosis?
Wading through the gloom made searching for the light too frightening to even try.
I finally found myself tip toeing tentatively towards social media around the time I first met Debs in 2017.
Despite being back in remission and physically doing well, mentally and emotionally I was at rock bottom.
Fear can paralyse, it can keep us stuck and small. We’ve lost faith in our bodies, the ground beneath us and aren’t sure we’ll ever feel safe again.
I soon realised that inside my phone was a whole community of people all doing their very best to deal with the hand they’d been dealt and that actually, there was as many positives stories as negative – it was a revelation.
There were just so many of us! And as tragic and depressing as that was, I have to be honest, it helped give me some kind of perspective.
The isolation diminished rapidly and a new kind of optimism took its place.
Maybe I wasn’t going to die imminently, after all? Maybe I could begin to view life in a different, less terrified way.
So, slowly but surely, I made a conscious decision to shift my focus from the worst possible scenario to a much more positive one.
Debs taught us to say ‘yes’ to life
That’s what Debs seemed to do, always focusing on the next step, the plan, the next goal or milestone.
She seized the day, looked for joy, embraced it all and taught so many of us that saying yes to life was a whole lot more beneficial and rewarding than saying no.
‘…there were people like Deborah who radiate, hope, positivity and love through their cancer. She was so generous to share that with us..’
She was incredibly generous. With her time, her knowledge and her solution focused way of approaching the obstacles that came along.
Okay, so she ran marathons (we ran one together, actually – best day ever) she danced during chemo, she was here, there and everywhere during the times when her health was stable.
She was a top speed, fast paced, go, go, go kind of girl that left many of us dizzy in her wake.
But she didn’t hide the grey days from us. The stark reality days when cancer clearly had the upper hand.
Deborah did things in a way that worked for her, right ’til the very end.
Maybe that’s another of the less obvious lessons we could take from having her in our lives.
Laugh, cry, dance, drink the champagne, press the ‘f**k it’ button… the list of Deborah-isms is endless and there are more than a few worth stealing.
Yes, check your poo. Yes, be an advocate for your own health, know your body, shout from the roof tops to make change happen but, BUT, do it all in the way that’s right for you.
The messages continue to pour in as the days tick by…
‘I met Deb once at a hospital appointment. I got to see the sparkle for myself. I didn’t think grief was possible from meeting something once.. but it is’
Stick together
Whether you’re newly diagnosed and facing the onslaught of chemotherapy or surgery, or living with cancer in the long term, connection is vital but can often seem out of reach.
In actual fact, connection doesn’t always have to mean real life meet ups or sitting in a room full of strangers where the only thing you have in common is a diagnosis.
A feeling of connection can come from simply observing others in a similar situation.
We don’t all have to bare our souls on Instagram stories as we wait for scan results or go live at 3am when the steroid high makes sleep impossible.
But Debs chose that way and, by default, we all felt the benefit.
Quite a few of us have chosen a similar path and, wow, the online cancer community really is a force to be reckoned with.
I could never have predicted how healing it would be to step into a space that had once seemed so alien and unnatural and instead find comfort, hope and virtual hand holding during the toughest of times.
It’s human nature to want to relate and recognise ourselves in others.
We hold our breaths when we see the anxiety etched on another’s face and we feel our shoulders drop with relief when the good news of stability flies in for someone we’ve never met.
When we show ourselves at our most vulnerable we give permission for others to do the same.
Deborah was never afraid to show her vulnerabilities.
And so, as the song goes, ‘There ain’t nothing like a Dame.’ And there will certainly never be another Dame Deborah.
Let’s keep going, my friends. Let’s find that Rebellious Hope. Lets dig deep on those dark days and channel our inner @bowelbabe.
Let’s stick together. We’ve got this. And weren’t we all lucky to have her?
Emma was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010 as a newly single mum of four
Emma said for the cancer community “Dame Deborah James was our go to girl and we simply can’t believe she’s gone”
