The Trio & Me

8. Write a will

In 2019, after years of persistent period pain and what was meant to be a routine check, I was told I had precancerous cells growing in my uterus.

What followed for the next 2 years was uncertainty, fear, and constant medical intervention. Every three months, I underwent surgeries to have the cells removed, hoping each time that it would be enough. But with each procedure came the same outcome – more cells, they were multiplying. 

By 2021, the situation had escalated. The cells had not only multiplied through my uterus, after being removed just 3 months prior, but they had now begun moving to my cervix, and the only option left was a hysterectomy.

At just 36 It was a lot to carry. I didn’t have any frame of reference, I didn’t understand what it all meant. 

Through every surgery, every appointment, every moment of waiting, there was one thought that never really left me: What would happen to my kids if something happened to me? That question stayed with me long after the surgeries were over.

The hysterectomy went well, I quietly battled the thought I couldn’t have anymore children, but I made peace with it. 

In the years that followed, health anxiety became something I quietly battled. Every symptom felt bigger than it was, every change in my body carried weight, and my mind would often spiral to the worst-case scenario before I had time to ground myself in reality.

And always, I came back to the same thought—
I don’t have a will.

Last year, while writing my “40 things to do before 40” list, that thought became louder. It wasn’t something I could keep putting off. It sat there, heavy and unresolved, tied not just to fear – but to responsibility. I couldn’t put it off, because if something ever did happen to me, I needed to know that my children would be okay.

At the start of this year, those fears resurfaced in a very real way. I began experiencing constant headaches, along with vertigo so intense that at times it was difficult to even walk. What started as concern quickly escalated into a series of medical appointments—brain CT scans, blood tests, new medications—all within a short space of time.  I couldn’t keep up, to everything that was happening.  Even my GP was concerned, because the symptoms were real, physical, and persistent.

And in between all of that, there was the waiting.

Sitting alone in medical waiting rooms, waiting for tests, waiting for results, waiting for my name to be called, waiting for answers. Those moments felt incredibly heavy. The silence gave too much space for my thoughts to run, and I found myself spiralling deeper into fear.

It didn’t help that people around me were also facing serious health battles, and some losing them. The things I was being tested for were no longer abstract – they were real, and close, and confronting.

I would sit there, overwhelmed, thinking about my children. Worrying about their future. Wondering who would be there for them. Thinking about how they would cope—emotionally, physically, financially.

Thankfully, I came out the other side of it. I’m okay. I’m managing things with the support of medication, and I remind myself every day that I’m okay – because sometimes that reassurance is the only thing that quiets the noise in my mind.

Health anxiety is very real. It’s often misunderstood, sometimes dismissed, and too easily labelled. But until you experience how it takes hold of your thoughts, your body, and your nervous system, it’s hard to fully explain the weight of it. But in the middle of all of that, I did something important. I wrote my will.

It wasn’t as overwhelming as I had built it up to be. In fact, once it was done, it brought a sense of relief I didn’t realise I needed. It’s something I’ll continue to update as life changes and as my children’s needs evolve, but having it in place has taken away a layer of fear that had been sitting quietly in the background for years. It gave me space to breathe.

It’s one less “what if” sitting on the pile of things that feel unfinished.

And more than anything, it gave me a sense of security – knowing that I’ve done something to protect my children and their future, no matter what.

If there’s one thing I would say to anyone reading this, it’s this:

• Take the time.
• Protect your family.
• Protect what you’ve built.
• Give yourself that peace of mind

It’s easy to do – and it’s incredibly important to have in place! 

🤍 K